Friday, March 24, 2006

Ow. That hurts.

Ok well, I was right, the grumpiness converted.

This now means we can start 'trying again'. Hmmm, it is going to be so much harder every time we do this, I expect. I don't imagine being able to relax at all this time around, not until I have a mewling newborn in my arms.

We missed our appointment with the Obstetrician on Thursady. I was doing night shift and mistakenly thought it was a Friday appointment, so I went swimming instead. But that's ok, gives me more time to compile a ridiculous list of questions to ask. Whilst I might be a doctor-type-person as my friend AliB puts it, I haven't done any obstetrics or gynae since, ohh, 1994, so my knowledge of things is a tad rusty.

My biggest concern is the low progesterone. When we were losing the last one, I suggested to my useless GP that maybe we should do some bloodwork to find out if there were any aetiology behind the miscarriage. One thing that turned up was a low progesterone. I remember the Ob looking at the result and remarking 'that's quite low' before putting it aside. And then, the other day I was flipping through my old results at work when I came across my last set of screening for my pituitary tumour. Turns out my luteal phase progesterone was low then too. From the most trusted source of information known to man (ie, the internet) I gather that the low progesterone thing is rather hard to treat. Looks like this is going to be much harder than simply doing away with contraception.

The whole thing gets me down. My thoughts run along the lines of...
1. Why me?
2. What can I do to stop it happening agin?
3. Please don't tell me to lose weight. I have tried and tried for about ten years now, with no result. I ave tried for so many reasons I just lose count. Unless you give me some sibutramine I'm just not going to be able to do it. And sibutramine is a category C or D
4. Why me?
5. Trouble getting pregnant. Uh huh.'
6. Why me?
7. I can't believe in an almighty who lets complete fuckwits and smackheads reproduce, but not the people who desire it the most.
8. Bloody catholic guilt. I'm being punished for the contraception aren't I. Well, I really get the point, God, like *really*. I'm sorry and I'll never do it again.
9. Why me?
10. How long do we try for before we have to go and explore ART or something even worse, surrogacy. Would we contemplate surrogacy? How in the hell do you go about it anyway? Is it legal in Australia?
11. I'm up to the third bottle of Folate. That makes it at least 180 days we have been trying.
12. Why me?


Friday, March 17, 2006

enough with the photos already, I want to WHINGE!

Ok, a few whinges.

1. I was reading Julie's excellent blog ( www. ) the other night at work. Recovery was empty except for the one (young, fit) patient I had brought around from uncomplicated orthopaedic surgery. As usual with Julie's blog, I was howling with laughter and alternately wiping tears rolling down my cheeks (she's a damn good writer). The recovery nurses asked what I was reading, and I explained. "I don't know why she'd bother trying to have children" sniffed one of the nurses. I felt like slapping her. She has three children, all teenagers or beyond. I bet a million bucks she never had problems conceiving or carrying her children. And what a comment! It's like she's saying that her own children really weren't worth it.

It got me to thinking again how much we take for granted, and how little we know of what could go wrong very easily. When I worked in our Tertiary ICU I used to imagine the almighty (or at least an entity of some omniscience and omnipotence) peering down from the clouds and saying, "right, whose life am I going to totally screw up today.... ahhh... how about..... HIM" and then the finger pointing down causes a bus to veer out of the traffic, or a plaque to rupture in his coronaries, or a big subarachnoid suddenly spurt... someone else's life... totally screwed. Those people who just say one day, oh yeah, let's reproduce, throw caution to the wind, conceive, carry and give birth... just like that, and have no idea of the pain of anything else different. Julie's blog has a post about pain scales that just covers this brilliantly.

2. Secondly, yesterday I was at a big department store buying a new garlic crusher they had on sale. There was a convention of sales assistants at the register who stood there gossipping about some fourth shop assistant (I know now that "she wasn't going to go after all, but then they called her and found out she hadn't booked it and then blahdy blahdy blahdy yak yak..."). Anyway, I did have all day so I just stood there, crusher in hand, waiting for the pause in conversation... It took some while. The saleswoman took the crusher off me, scanned it, and then put out her hand to me for the money... all whilst facing the other way, still talking to her colleagues. It had been on sale (x% off) so I didn't really know how much it was, so I just stood there, waiting, waiting, waiting.... after all, I did have all day. Finally she turned to me with some annoyance, looked me up and down and said "Yes?" "How much is it?"I asked. "Oh, (whatever it was)" I paid her, she continued talking to her friends, and (gnashing of teeth) put it in a plastic bag after I had told her not to bother with a bag.

What is it that when you walk into some shops if you have a handbag larger than the average tampon they will ask to see it as soon as you look like leaving (it's all the anaesthetic drugs I inhale, I must look guilty), but they think that carrying your purchases home in said bag is some sort of subversive, anti-government plot? "Quick! Get the fridge magnet! It's a terrorist!!!"

So of course I up-ended the bag so the crusher fell out onto the counter (with a nicely satisfying Ker-thunk), grabbed my receipt, and flounced out.

Now like anyone else, I love a good goss at work. But only after the sucker is slumbering (or comatose in ICU). Yah, sure I'd draw up drugs and give them whilst I'm not looking at what I'm doing...

If shop assistants (and related jobs) want to consider themselves professionals, then they have to start behaving like them.

3. Someone else is feeding Meg.

4. It's March and it's still over 30 degrees most days.

5. The sun goes down at 7pm.

6. I still haven't got my period. It's been 5 weeks since the D&C and I'm fed up. I want to get back on the job! Makes me soo cranky and irritable, and I just want to yell at everyone all the time, and even the... ohh. Right. Day or two, then...

Monday, March 06, 2006

From Balmain Thames Street Ferry wharf. I love it that boats are public transport in Sydney. Why would you drive to work if this was your ride to work? (Apart from the cost, of course...) Posted by Picasa

I also like this one. Of course it would look better if I had a better camera; but if I had a better camera it wouldn't just live in my handbag all the time, and ergo, I wouldn't get the photos I take with the phone. Sunny Sunday, heading home. Posted by Picasa

Unfortunately we were heading North because it would have been great to get the Oz flag framed in the Girders. Taken out of the window of the car as we were crossing the bridge. With the phone. How much do I love my camera phone?! Posted by Picasa

Mardi Gras, colour and action. Posted by Picasa

Sydney. Taken with the phone, of course. I am pretty proud of how good this looks for just a phone photo. Posted by Picasa

How much do I love Sydney? On a sunny day, Sydney rocks. We went to sydney this weekend just as a bit of a getaway from it all here. We both had days off together, a miracle in itself. I booked into a hotel on Saturday morning off wotif, and bugger me if we didn't get a hotel between Elizabeth and Goulburn Streets, ie right next to the parade. I had asked T if he wanted to see the parade, but he said,'nah, it's not my kind of thing', so we were going to just go to the George Street Flicks. But then I caught him with his head out the window so many times looking at the growing parade floats and said to him 'right, we're going'. He loved it. Mardi gras is FUN, and you really don't have to be GLTBO to appreciate it, either. It's a mixture of the plain funny (The Brokeback Mormons), the political (Camp X-Rated), and the personal (PFLAG). Recommend it to anyone.  Posted by Picasa

Wednesday, March 01, 2006

rainy day weather. The blue thing is my sea kayak, stuffed into our tiny back yard Posted by Picasa


la la la... I should be studying...

it's a rainy day here only 21.6 degrees out there (about 72F), perfect study weather, but I just can't get it together. Got the computer out to look up the most recent study guide posted by kind professor Geoff, and got... sidetracked...