Warning: I'm Back in Town
And so are nearly 24,000 undergraduates at the University of Michigan. When I left town, Ann Arbor was populated by some inteprid co-eds who stayed the summer, graduate students, and townies (more or less), and now we're full up again. Driving across town takes longer. Dodging bodies on Huron and State make the day more challenging. That was one annoying thing about my return to Michigan, but hey, it's where we live... Just par for the course. I can handle a few little undergraduate bodies... Easy as pie!
The next annoying thing was that my radiator appears to be leaking. I found this out on my way to the first closing of the day at one title company. I was late anyway when the little "radiator" light went on. I pulled over to see the tell-tale signs of neon green leaking, slowly, thank God, from underneath the radiator. My engine heat was fine. The "half-full" part of me would be pleased I found this out before any damage was done, or before I resumed my Detroit-commute. But the half-full part of me died today. It's gone. Fucking Pollyanna.
I ate tuna salad from the coffee shop beneath our office that made me sick.
Then I went to pick up "the drugs" from the pharmacy. I dropped off the prescriptions before we left for vacation in order to be sure they would all be present and accounted for upon our return. Our Lupron shots, which I thought had to be scheduled for Day 18, were instead scheduled for day 17, one day after our return. (The reason for the change? The nurse was blocked out on the schedule for Day 18 and couldn't remember why. Suddenly the Very Important Calendar could change! Who knew?? Not me!)
I won't keep you on tenterhooks here: the drugs were in. But I need six estrogen patches and they would only give me two since that's all my insurance would pay for. ("I don't give a damn what they'll pay for-- give me six! I want six!" I may have stamped my pouty little Birkenstock clad foot. FYI: this does not work on pharmacists or their assistants.)
Then I looked in the bags. I was sure I was told that the Lupron needed to be in the fridge. It wasn't. There it was, all room temperature: perfect some really wonderful cheeses, but maybe not so good for the fertility meds? I started sweating, demanded to see the pharmacist. He said he'd order more and keep it in the fridge, but since it wasn't delivered cold and probably wasn't stored cold, he thought this would be a futile activity. Could I have been wrong about this? The Gonal-F, however, was brought out of the cold and placed into our hands. I started my melt-down here. ("Because you know, if it's not right, it's like our whole cycle down the drain and we've been, like, waiting awhile for this, you know?" I said to the man in the white coat. I don't know why I was transformed into a valley girl while talking to him. He just looked at me and said, "I can't even pretend to understand here." YES SIR! YOU CAN PRETEND! But you just won't play!! Give me my fucking needles and get me out of here.)
(We have one brimming bag o' needles and syringes. )
Yum.
Anyway, after Partner dropped me off at home (remember my car had putzed out on me earlier), I hightailed it to the computer and googled "Lupron storage temperature" and was reassured by several websites it didn't need to be cold. I'm still worried about this, but I am trying to be calm. "Like water" Partner tells me, "You need to be like water and flow around the obstacles. " Fucking water. She should choose a metaphor that makes sense to me, say like, be akin to Canadian Club as it flows across the ice as you pour your Manhattan. I might be able to accomplish that. Instead when she says "like water" all I can see in my head is Jim Cantore being pelted with stinging rain and the storm surge knocking out one hundred year old trees. I can be like that water. It's not exactly soothing.
[Sipping manhattan now. Ah...like Canadian Club...]
Okay, so Monday after being at the beach all week is feeling particularly crappy today, and then I listen to the messages:
"Hi Katie and Partner... It's Nurse from Dr. BusyBusyBusy's office... Um, I think you are still on vacation today; it's Thursday the 25th. A couple of things, um, well one thing has changed in the schedule for the procedure... Nothing drastic so don't panic! Dr BusyBusyBusy is going on vacation so we need to change your calendar. If you give me a call back, or I'll try your cell phone, but call back as soon as possible, we'll get that worked out."
Don't panic my eye. Hasn't everything I've read thus far tell me that scheduling things is of the utmost importance during this time? Has not the doctor's office staff and doctor himself told us the same thing? When I merely suggested that I might want to be away for a weekend before the procedure, did I not get the look of death that implied if I wasn't serious about committing I should just leave? Did I not?
And then Partner called and said she felt I really needed to think about how to calm down about this whole process, either by having massages (yes, please!) or breathing exercises (I'll take the massages) or something. She feels it's unhealthy for me. (Why yes, I would agree.) And it's going to be unhealthy for the pregnancy. And the baby or babies. So I needed to work it out. All fine and dandy for her to say-- I'm the one reading the books and getting information for us! Of course I am high-strung about all of this: I know too fucking much!! (As kvetchy as this sounds, Partner is right about me and this actually was a high point of the day since I now believe I am going to get weekly massages from a professional.)
[Okay-- and I know I've been surly or emotional lately, but some really really wonderful things have been happening too, and I promise to post something more upbeat soon. Meanwhile I'm left wondering if we get bloodwork and injections with the nasty Lupron tomorrow not. I fear that I may be entering the dysfunctional phase in my relationship with the RE's office. I hate not knowing what the freaking hell is going on! And in some ways I can't believe I am gunning so hard for a drug that I am pretty sure is going to make me feel like shit. Totally totally counter-intuitive, if you ask me.]
I'm Back in Town, alright, but no one said I was happy about it.
The next annoying thing was that my radiator appears to be leaking. I found this out on my way to the first closing of the day at one title company. I was late anyway when the little "radiator" light went on. I pulled over to see the tell-tale signs of neon green leaking, slowly, thank God, from underneath the radiator. My engine heat was fine. The "half-full" part of me would be pleased I found this out before any damage was done, or before I resumed my Detroit-commute. But the half-full part of me died today. It's gone. Fucking Pollyanna.
I ate tuna salad from the coffee shop beneath our office that made me sick.
Then I went to pick up "the drugs" from the pharmacy. I dropped off the prescriptions before we left for vacation in order to be sure they would all be present and accounted for upon our return. Our Lupron shots, which I thought had to be scheduled for Day 18, were instead scheduled for day 17, one day after our return. (The reason for the change? The nurse was blocked out on the schedule for Day 18 and couldn't remember why. Suddenly the Very Important Calendar could change! Who knew?? Not me!)
I won't keep you on tenterhooks here: the drugs were in. But I need six estrogen patches and they would only give me two since that's all my insurance would pay for. ("I don't give a damn what they'll pay for-- give me six! I want six!" I may have stamped my pouty little Birkenstock clad foot. FYI: this does not work on pharmacists or their assistants.)
Then I looked in the bags. I was sure I was told that the Lupron needed to be in the fridge. It wasn't. There it was, all room temperature: perfect some really wonderful cheeses, but maybe not so good for the fertility meds? I started sweating, demanded to see the pharmacist. He said he'd order more and keep it in the fridge, but since it wasn't delivered cold and probably wasn't stored cold, he thought this would be a futile activity. Could I have been wrong about this? The Gonal-F, however, was brought out of the cold and placed into our hands. I started my melt-down here. ("Because you know, if it's not right, it's like our whole cycle down the drain and we've been, like, waiting awhile for this, you know?" I said to the man in the white coat. I don't know why I was transformed into a valley girl while talking to him. He just looked at me and said, "I can't even pretend to understand here." YES SIR! YOU CAN PRETEND! But you just won't play!! Give me my fucking needles and get me out of here.)
(We have one brimming bag o' needles and syringes. )
Yum.
Anyway, after Partner dropped me off at home (remember my car had putzed out on me earlier), I hightailed it to the computer and googled "Lupron storage temperature" and was reassured by several websites it didn't need to be cold. I'm still worried about this, but I am trying to be calm. "Like water" Partner tells me, "You need to be like water and flow around the obstacles. " Fucking water. She should choose a metaphor that makes sense to me, say like, be akin to Canadian Club as it flows across the ice as you pour your Manhattan. I might be able to accomplish that. Instead when she says "like water" all I can see in my head is Jim Cantore being pelted with stinging rain and the storm surge knocking out one hundred year old trees. I can be like that water. It's not exactly soothing.
[Sipping manhattan now. Ah...like Canadian Club...]
Okay, so Monday after being at the beach all week is feeling particularly crappy today, and then I listen to the messages:
"Hi Katie and Partner... It's Nurse from Dr. BusyBusyBusy's office... Um, I think you are still on vacation today; it's Thursday the 25th. A couple of things, um, well one thing has changed in the schedule for the procedure... Nothing drastic so don't panic! Dr BusyBusyBusy is going on vacation so we need to change your calendar. If you give me a call back, or I'll try your cell phone, but call back as soon as possible, we'll get that worked out."
Don't panic my eye. Hasn't everything I've read thus far tell me that scheduling things is of the utmost importance during this time? Has not the doctor's office staff and doctor himself told us the same thing? When I merely suggested that I might want to be away for a weekend before the procedure, did I not get the look of death that implied if I wasn't serious about committing I should just leave? Did I not?
And then Partner called and said she felt I really needed to think about how to calm down about this whole process, either by having massages (yes, please!) or breathing exercises (I'll take the massages) or something. She feels it's unhealthy for me. (Why yes, I would agree.) And it's going to be unhealthy for the pregnancy. And the baby or babies. So I needed to work it out. All fine and dandy for her to say-- I'm the one reading the books and getting information for us! Of course I am high-strung about all of this: I know too fucking much!! (As kvetchy as this sounds, Partner is right about me and this actually was a high point of the day since I now believe I am going to get weekly massages from a professional.)
[Okay-- and I know I've been surly or emotional lately, but some really really wonderful things have been happening too, and I promise to post something more upbeat soon. Meanwhile I'm left wondering if we get bloodwork and injections with the nasty Lupron tomorrow not. I fear that I may be entering the dysfunctional phase in my relationship with the RE's office. I hate not knowing what the freaking hell is going on! And in some ways I can't believe I am gunning so hard for a drug that I am pretty sure is going to make me feel like shit. Totally totally counter-intuitive, if you ask me.]
I'm Back in Town, alright, but no one said I was happy about it.
posted by Katie at 6:58 PM
5 Comments:
Ok, Ok--not water, she didn't really mean water. She meant whiskey, as in Willie Nelson's "Whiskey River", or maybe The Doors' "Alabama Song (Whiskey Bar)".
We started school again today, too, at Cleveland State. All of a sudden the place fills up again, and yes, that's why we are there in the first place, but gee, we were just getting used to empty roads and echoing buildings.
Oh, man, I can't believe the RE's office would leave a message like that. Especially after impressing the importance of the timing on you.
That said, I'm sure it will be fine. It's so hard, but at some point we do have to actually believe that they have some minor clue about what they're doing. It will be okay!
I'm so sorry about the timing of the message. But, got your manhattan in hand?, get used to it. I swear, everytime we had to get a test result before the pregnancy, during the pregnancy, and now in this post-partum phase, it seems that the person who is supposed to call and give us the results ALWAYS calls at 4:55 on a Friday afternoon. Leaving a message that says something like, "It's very important that you return our call as soon as possible. We need to discuss your test results." and leaving us to stew in anxiety for an entire weekend thinking of all the things that could possibly be wrong. Usually there was absolutely nothing abnormal about our test results when we finally got them. So, learn to be like water, like fire water, like canadian club, like embalming fluid, whatever it takes.
Good luck with all the needles and questionably-stored meds.
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Sip, Sip, breathe....sip, sip, breathe....I am also feeling a bit overstressed lately with wedding stuff and I find the sip, sip breathe method to be quite helpful. Just peel off the CC sticker and put it somewhere you can see it, it can be your focus image when you need to chill.
Post a Comment
<< Home