I was looking at my rap sheet on the forum I frequent- I don't like the story my signature tells. When I look at it, I have trouble believing that was me. I feel like I'm one of those horror stories you read about- and really, how many times am I going to keep falling into the smallest statistics, and not in a good way? I joked with my husband and told him that since I am so good at hitting the low odds, maybe we should start playing the lottery. I'd totally hit that shit- except the reality is that we've never hit the good odds, as it were. Always the unwanted ones.
- April marks three years since we began pursuing our dream of becoming parents.
- In that time I have been diagnosed with PCOS.
- I've had three first-trimester miscarriages.
- Spent two years pursuing fertility treatments.
- Been through two reproductive doctors.
- I've only ovulated six times despite all this.
- Did not respond to Clomid alone, did not respond to Metformin alone- barely responded to the combination of them. Discovered that glucocortoids could help me. We did seven rounds of Clomid after all was said and done.
- Didn't have a very good success rate with injections, even with IUI (Despite A-s super sperm.) Three tries of that.
- Discovered a very mild obscure genetic clotting disorder, which may or may not even be an issue at all.
- Had ovarian drilling to get rid of cysts.
- Discovered an unknown uterine septum, and had it removed.
Is this really my life? I'm only twenty-five. I've just spent pretty much my entire early twenties going through hell- and for what? An unrealized (possibly unrealizable) dream.
I think the combination of my recent surgery, trying again being put on further delay, sister-in-law's recent pregnancy, and the coming anniversary of the second miscarriage (days away now) have all just taken their toll on me.
My healing is progressing well enough- still sore, my uterus is still confused about what it should be doing, and I'm counting down the days till I can talk to my doctor face to face. I have some questions and concerns about the septum, it's removal, etc... just you're run of the mill compulsive analyzing going on here- I'm on a learning spree.
I'm not feeling very hopeful about things though. We're still going ahead and starting to save money for adoption- but we'll see what happens in the mean time.
Life hasn't been quite the harbinger of good news I had hoped for lately though-
My aunt passed away Sunday morning- she lost her 9 year battle with cancer. The cancer had spread pretty much everywhere by the time she was diagnosed- they had given her 5 years to live even with treatments. She signed on to a trial with an experimental drug, and it bought her more time and furthered cancer research. My mother and her joined a sister study to try and learn more about why one sister might get breast cancer and the other doesn't.
But last year they discovered a new brain tumor- this one was inoperable, and they said treatment could do nothing more. They made her as comfortable as they could. She couldn't barely walk anymore because of the bone weakness. The brain tumor was taking even more devastating tolls on her health every day. She was getting really bad- and then the massive seizure took her in the early hours of Sunday morning.
I remember when she was first diagnosed and she talked to me about how everyone was treating her different- and I let her know I get it, how you just want people to treat you like everyone else and not as if you are some kind of freak. People who weren't nice to you before, you don't want to suddenly be nice to you now because you've got a personal tragedy brewing- you don't want pity. Understanding, yes. But never pity. I was apparently one of the few who got it- and she let me know she was glad I did.
The last time I saw her, she was frail, her skin sallow, paper thin. Her muscles all weak; she looked like my paternal-grandma before she slipped into her coma after her own cancer returned. My aunt didn't really know who I was, how old I was now- she still thought I was in high school. I couldn't handle it, sitting there with her and my mother- neither of them in their right minds anymore- and I had to leave the room before I started hyperventilating.
I'm doing okay, but my poor mother is devastated over this major loss. I don't even know what to say- I personally am just thankful she's no longer suffering. My heart goes out to my aunt's children and grand-children, my aunts and uncles.
Now I have the demand of trying to figure out what to do about my mother though- she had a nervous break down over the loss of her mother, and with her mental illness and lack of coping skills... I worry how she is going to deal with the loss of her sister. I am going to have to make sure I pay even more attention to her.
Life is short- what we do with it, what time we have, passes in the blink of an eye.
And cancer? Cancer is a fucking bitch.