Over the past few weeks I’ve almost kind of forgetten about my infertility all together. Even remembering to take my folic acid, asprin and estrace is a lot. I can honestly say that the FET is easy. Expensive, and yes, some drugs are involved. But its easy. As far as symptoms, I really only had a few over the first few days of the Lupron. Since then nothing. Of course I started the progesterone tonight so soon the real symptoms will start. Those are the ones I want to pay close attention to, so that after the transfer I’m not wracking by brain trying to remember what my body was doing and what it was not.
According to my medication schedule, today is cycle day “0”, so I guess for a “normal” person today is ovulation day. Just 6 more days to go…
My mom is beginning to do better, though I’m not quite sure what is going on with her sometimes. I have found a lot out and because of the things I’ve found I’ve learned that I have a lot of work ahead of me. Paperwork wise. Trying to get her insured and going through the process to get my sister insured as well. Please people, don’t ever go without insurance. I know it is expensive but that is what county and state programs are for. Use them if you have to. I swear to you it is better than finding out that you have cancer with no coverage of any kind. I have been going crazy with paperwork to try and get her some sort of coverage that will retro back and cover her hospital stay. Her surgery will just have to be paid for out of pocket, but you can’t really put a price on that sort of thing.
It is what it is. It is exhausting. It is heartbreaking and it is hard. It is frustrating. It is coffee cart and hospital cafeteria and fast food. It is dirty clothes and dressing out of the dryer. It is dishes in the sink and wet towels on the floor. It is hospital beds and medication schedules and chicken broth. It is the “Cooking for Cancer” cookbook and pamphlets about radiation and chemotherapy on the coffee table. It is missing my family and wishing for a home cooked meal. It is realizing how deep my love is for my family and finding that I would do anything for them, day or night. It is the pit in my stomach as I watch my grandfather watching his second born daughter suffer. It is me looking to my little brother, whom I have always taken care of, for support. But most of all, it is fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of what will become, fear of this disease that has taken too many far too soon. It is cancer. Silently spreading. Black, corrosive, malignant cancer. I am afraid.