Leaving on a jet plane

Pardon all typos and errors. I'm on my phone, sitting in the terminal, getting ready to head off and have some girl time with my momma before IVF part deux.  J will be in Europe and we will be stuck not being able to talk for two days. This will be the first time we end up not talking in a 24 hour period since we met. It makes me a bit nauseous! Here's to keepin' the wine flowing! Stay cool, friends! It's hot out there!

Does Target Have A Birthing Center?

I swear, every woman in Target is either about to give birth, or carrying an infant fresh from the womb. 

Maybe it's between the toy and infant aisles.  I don't go around there so I wouldn't know if there were a birthing center hidden there.  Target does have everything, after all.

Why I Almost Cried In The Bathroom At Office Max

Today, while the hubmeister and I were shopping for his new home office, I got a little teary.  Was Office Max full of infants?  No.  Did I have a moment of sadness because the new office is going in a potential nursery?  No.  I cried because I got my period... and these were tears of joy.

I wasn't happy because CD 1 means we can get IVF #2 going.  I was teary because I just stumbled upon my period.  It wasn't heralded by a very real need for a Vicodin to avoid a day in the fetal position.  I didn't have four days of spotting to let me know it was coming.  I just went to the bathroom and there it was.  Friends, I have had zero pain.  ZERO.  I'm shocked, amazed, and thankful.  I was able to work on the new room and shop all day and I was so happy to be doing so.

I had no idea that it was supposed to be like this.  It's not even an issue.  It's like... well... it's like what the nuns told us it was going to be like back in 5th grade.  So here's my PSA:  If you think that "womanly flow" is akin to more of a Mount Vesuvius and molten lava event than a stream, you should mention it to your doctor.  If the start of your period means you fear a #2 because you know it's going to hurt like a mother, you should mention it to your doctor.  If the first person to give you prescription pain meds for your period was your pediatrician, you should mention it to your doctor.

The surgery was completely worth the lack of pain I'm now feeling.  Even if it doesn't help my fertility, I'm so glad I did it.  So glad.

Hooray Hooray For Q&A

We had a really good visit with the RE today.  I actually feel like he answered all of our (current) questions... because I actually bucked up and asked them!  Go figure.

He told us that the endo was the worst on my bladder, surprisingly.  That was that only thing I didn't have symptoms for!  Now that it's removed, I'm hoping that I can have some time sans constant peeing... at least until I get pregnant, right?  One can only hope!  Anyways, he thinks the pain I'm still experiencing will go away with my next period and he's "anxious to see how it goes."  Well isn't that just nifty.  I guess we're all awaiting AF with baited breath.  He guessed that we have a window of about a year before it starts to come back, and that fertility treatment might speed that up a bit.

Gratuitous puppy pile just so I can say, "Look!  A plethora!"
Image Credit

As usual, he gave us the treatment option smorgasbord.  I realize I need to give him a pseudonym.  I think I shall call him, Dr. Plethora because of all of the options he is constantly throwing at us.  There - he's named. We talked about doing a few months with Depot Lupron.  He told us there was some evidence that it could help with an IVF cycle and we could do it if we wanted.  I cornered him on this one.  I was concerned about the symptoms and he said that we could do add-back to avoid some of that.  So I asked if he thought it would really help in our situation.  He FINALLY gave us his actual opinion.  In our situation, it isn't worth the time.  That if I had stage 4 endo he would push for it, but with stage 2, he thinks the help would be marginal.  So we're skipping it and I might revisit it as a pain treatment when we're done with the baby making.  We'll see.

I also asked him about all the endometriosis diet stuff I see, because no fatty wants to limit her eating that much unless the doctor tells her to.  He said that there are things all over our environment that our bodies treat as estrogen (soaps, shampoos, plastics, stuff in the water, all kinds o'crap) and that just limiting certain foods would have such a very minor impact, that it isn't worth it.  There's no way you could avoid things in the world enough to change the estrogenic response in the body.  I was happy to hear that.  What the hell would I eat?  And no wine for the rest of my life?  Shoot me now!

He was very kind and sympathetic and really wanted to make sure we were doing okay emotionally.  He said, "This is not fun stuff to go through by any means and you guys have been through a lot."  It was nice, but I couldn't stop thinking that there are a lot worse things we could have faced at this point.  While never being remotely pregnant makes me sad, I do realize how grateful I am that I haven't suffered a loss.  I see how strong the women in our community are when they experiences losses and I just don't think I could be as strong.  They are the true warriors if you ask me.  Anyway, we're feeling really hopeful right now.  It's good.

As soon as AF rears her head, I'll start BCPs again for IVF #2 - this time WITH ICSI.  We will do another antagonist cycle since I made plenty of mature eggs on it.  He's hopeful that the ICSI will give us more embryos and that cleaning out the endo will give us better quality embryos.  Sounds like a plan to me! And if you're here from ICLW... What up?

A Weighty Issue

There have been a lot of posts in the blog-o-sphere lately about weight.  All of us undergoing infertility treatment know how much of a struggle this is.  Whether it's from stress eating or hormones, it blows, and most of us have experienced this.  So I'm going to take this opportunity to out myself.  I'm outing myself as a fattie. Actually, I'm worse than a fatty.  I'm a yo-yoer.  I'm going to include some pictures here for illustration, but in an effort to remain pseudo-anonymous, I will put swell purple sunglasses on myself.

Dancer Me

Back in the day, I was a dancer.  People stare at me incredulously when I say this now, but I really was.  I was damned good at it too.  I studied ballet, tap, jazz, modern... the whole nine.  I performed in a professional show or two.  I got a college scholarship for ballet.  I was bad ass.  When college came around, it dawned on me that this whole dancer thing couldn't last very long at 4'11," and I gave up studying ballet.  I danced on the dance team like a big cheese ball while I was in school, but the damage was done.  My body was used to ballerina starvation and 15 hours a week of class.  Gone were the days when I would fret if the needle on the scale got too close to 100. That seems so silly now.

Super Sized Me

I fought my weight in college, but then grad school hit and all bets were off! I was in a challenging academic program, working two jobs, living with a douche-canoe of a boyfriend, and watching my family crumble around me with my father's craziness coming to light.  Food became my comfort and I got fat.  Really fat.  I was well into the obese category before I could even blink.  I was having so many aches and pains and trying to chase a diagnosis for my weight gain and ailments.  A visit to a rheumatologist actually set me on the right track.  He asked me to bend over and touch my toes and I couldn't. When I burst into tears, he point blank asked me the real reason I was fat.  After I spewed out all of my life struggles, he told me that needed to lose weight and that I would feel better.  This kind man, who was no skinny-mini himself, talked to me about finding alternatives to food when I needed comfort.

When the douche-canoe moved out, I moved back home with my mom while I finished grad school.  In no time at all, I had dropped a good chunk of the weight before moving up north for a few years.  I finally got myself out of the obese category and have managed to stay out of it for 10 years now.  Giving up red meat has helped a lot, because it keeps me out of the drive-through.  If you aren't going to get a burger, it's a pretty crappy place to be. 

Bride Me

When I met J, I was psyched when I learned that he used to be a fatty too.  Having a guy who "got it" was really appealing.  He does "get it," which is great, but there is a real down side to having a fellow fat fighter as a husband.  We have recently learned that we rock at enabling each other.  "I had a rough day, Babe.  Know what sounds good?  Chocolate," quickly translates into a Ben and Jerry's run.  Throw progesterone supplements into the mix, and I put on weight during this infertility journey faster than you can say "artificial reproductive technology."

There are about 20 pounds that I fight, and right now, every single one of them is on me.  I'm comfortable 10 pounds lighter than where I am, and thrilled when I'm 20 pounds lighter than where I am.  If I gain 12 pounds, my BMI would register as obese.  If I lose 10, I can be considered "normal" again.

You name the diet, I've done it.  But the most effective plan for me has been the one recommended by a nutritionist I saw a few years ago.  The problem is that it sucks... a lot.  At my height and with my history of bouncing around, I should only eat 1000 calories a day. Do you know how hard it is to eat that little calories and still get the nutrients you need?  Do you know how boring it is?  Do you know how terrifying it is to eat so few calories when you're trying to make a dang baby?  So I've let myself slide a bit, and I'm not happy about it.

Current Me

You name the exercise, I've done that too.  Running and I do not get a long.  I gave it a good college try.  I really did.  I even ran a 10 miler and finished in my goal time, but runners trots do not a happy Lisa make.  Besides, it didn't help much in the weight department and why torture myself with something I hate if it doesn't help?  Yoga, Pilates, P90X, dance classes, Zumba, elliptical, cycling...  The only thing that I can really stick to is walking.  I walk fast and for a long time.  I really need to add some weight training in again.

So here I am, getting ready for another IVF cycle at a weight I'm really not happy with.  I got 5 of the IVF pounds off, only to magically gain 4 of them back with my lap.  You'd think a few days with very little food after having someone dig around in your gut would help with weight loss, but not for me!  My body hates me.

Can I make it though a cycle with little to no gain? Anyone else out there struggling with weight and want to help keep each other accountable?  Who's in this with me? 

Prometheus

If you didn't see this movie yet and you actually want to for some ungodly reason, you probably don't want to read this post.  Or maybe you do so that you can get a heads up.  Not only did the storyline defy logical human behavior on several occasions... we're on to the spoiler now... you've been warned...

...but what the hell was up with the infertility line thrown in there?  Did she really have to be infertile? The story could have worked without that crap.  Unless the screenwriters were a group of THOSE people.  You know the ones.  The people who think that infertile people are infertile for a reason and shouldn't try to procreate. 

After all, if the situation presents itself, an infertile woman could, in all probability, become impregnated with an alien baby.

So Do I Stick This On My Car or Not? A Poll.

My husband, being the darling thoughtful man that he is, bought me a present.  He has been so excited about this present and when it arrived in the mail today, he about peed himself.

Photo credit

I think it's funny, but I'm kind of worried about being rammed by some crazy soccer mom.  Do I stick it on my car or not?

The Anxiety Game

Welcome to the Infertility Anxiety Game!  Here's your host, Random Information!

My RE happened to call today to talk about my biopsy results and said I don't have to come in for the post op since I'm doing fine.  I'm back to exercising - it just still freakin hurts when I pee!  Anyway, the biopsy showed some plasma cells.  Not a lot, just a few.  So it could be that I have chronic endometritis or it could be that I don't.  He wants to treat it anyway because it's not going to hurt anything.  So a month of Doxy it is.  Whoopie!  That's the only thing he had a definitive opinion on.  Seriously, I just wish a doctor would tell me what to do!

So he said we can do whatever we want at this point.  We can try on our own for a bit, we can do an ovulation induction cycle, we can do an FET with our lonely embryo, or we can so a fresh cycle.  I was dumbfounded.  I asked why we would want to try on our own and he said that some people want to do that after a lap just in case it worked well enough to allow for a natural pregnancy and that was fine.  It made me a little nauseous to think about being back at the beginning.  I feel like we had to fail and fail and fail before we had an option to do something that had a chance at actually working.  My FSH is 11.6, I'm 34 years old, we had shitty fertilization, I know the lap gives us a certain time window... why would I want to start at square one?  He said that we shouldn't count out IUIs or natural pregnancy based on the fert rate.  I didn't really understand his rationale.  Something about there being lots of reasons why that could have happened?  Children were screaming in the hallway and I was overwhelmed at the moment so I didn't really wrap my head around it.

I said, "We were prepared to do another fresh cycle, and we have insurance coverage for it."  He said, "Well, your best chance is always going to be IVF and it's hard to argue against it when you have coverage."  So that's what we're doing.  But he wants to sit down with us next week to talk about possibly doing a few months with Depot Lupron.  Oh, and since I haven't had a prolonged temp rise and I gave up on OPKs, if my period doesn't start by Wed I'm supposed to call for Provera.  So here's the anxiety list as it stands.

• My poop chute after a month on Doxy.
• Will insurance still cover ART since I've had a lap?
• Why haven't they finished processing the claim for the lap and hysteroscopy anyway?  That's way more money than I have.
• Will insurance cover ICSI since I'm not going to not do that this time?
• Would Lupron really help or is it just wasting time, sanity, and clean armpits in my clothes?
• Why does peeing still hurt if the culture was clear?
• Will this weight ever come off?
• How soon until the endo comes back?
• What if my period starts before my appointment?  Do I call and see if I'm supposed to start BCPs?
• What if I need Provera?  How long until my period starts?
• How bad is this period going to suck?
• Am I being melodramatic?  Should I just wait and see right now?  Am I pushing things by going straight back into IVF?
• Will I ever have a freakin' baby?

Oh darlings. Some input from my bloggy sisters would be awesome!

FOOD Glorious FOOD!

I would be remiss if I didn't talk about the biggest bonus of being in a relationship with someone of another culture.
THE FOOD!

When I moved in, J only had one thing in his utensil drawer that was nice.  Chopsticks.  We have the nicest darn chopsticks.  I'd like to think that my use of them has become better with time, but J disagrees.  I can eat a whole meal, rice and all, with them, but J still makes fun of me.  Did you know they made training chopsticks?  They do.  He threatens to buy them for me.


Who knew Thomas was so into Asian food?

I had only had Korean food once before I met J.  I liked it, but I didn't develop my current addiction until I had a MIL who could make the shit old school.  The woman is nuts... thank God.  She climbs a freakin mountain in California to get just the right mushrooms.  She will actually fly here, 2500 miles away, with a carry-on full of vegetables and pre-made yummies.  She will attempt to teach me how to make it, and when seeing how pathetic I am at the whole thing, she will fill our freezer with a crap-ton of goodies so her son doesn't starve.  For this, I am grateful.  Here's what I've taken home from my MIL on Korean cooking... "more salt."  She repeats that a lot.  Since I suck at cooking it, we thankfully have a nearby restaurant that we frequent.


Banchan

In Korean dining, they bring you a bunch of little dishes called banchan at the beginning of the meal.  They are a bunch of side dishes that the whole table can share.  Whenever we go out, we get a variety of things to try and the only one I haven't liked was octopus.  Yucko.



Kimchi Jeon

My favorite Korean food is kimchi jeon, aka "those pancake thingies."  It's a light pancake made of mung beans and kimchi.  If you don't know what kimchi is, it's fermented cabbage.  Totally yummy and spicy.  My MIL makes us little personal ones, but when we go out, we get a giant one that we slice up like a pizza and fight over who gets the last slice.   
J loves bulgogi.  It's a marinated meat that's usually grilled.  Sometimes you can get it at Korean BBQ restaurants.  The tables will have a grill in the middle and you cook it right there.  I don't eat red meat, so all I can tell you is that it smells delicious.

Bibimbap

Another yummy that my BIL and I like is bibimbap.  I get the dolsot version, which is a steaming hot stone bowl filled with rice, veggies, and a meat of some sort, with a fried egg on top.  I like to let the rice get all crystallized to the side of the bowl and then I pour on the sriracha sauce and stir it all up.  Mmmm.  There are so many more delicious dishes... jjigae, chapchae, mandoo. 

I'm totally about to drool all over my keyboard.

Sadly, Korean food is lacking in the dessert department.  They're all healthy and stuff.  Fruit for dessert?  Pshaw!  Thankfully, as an Italian, I can make up for that in spades.  See how great interracial marriage is!

Happy Loving Day!!!!

June 12th marks the anniversary of the US Supreme Court Decision of Loving vs Virginia.  "Why do I care about Loving vs Virginia?" you may ask.  Well, let me tell you.  Mildred and Richard Loving met, fell in love, and got married in 1958.  They were just a regular old couple, except that Mildred was Native American and African American, while Richard was white.  Interracial marriage was illegal in Virginia, as it was in most states at the time.  They pled guilty and avoided jail time by moving out of VA.  They moved to Washington DC and decided to start legal action.  The case ultimately ended in the Supreme Court in 1967.  The ruling made it illegal for states to ban interracial marriages.  Up until then, J and I would not have been able to be married in either our home state, or the states we we grew up in.  In many states, there were laws on the books that forbade people of different races from marrying each other.  Seems silly, right? 

If you haven't seen the documentary on HBO, I highly recommend it.  It's awesome.  You can also learn more about Loving Day here.  The Lovings were true heroes.  Their story offers lessons on how each of us can make a difference for generations if we continue to fight for what is right.
In honor of Loving Day, I'm going to center my posts this week on the ups and downs of a marriage between two people of different races and cultures.  Most of the time, we forget that I'm white and he's Asian.  It's usually a non issue.  Sometimes, it offers us a real opportunity for learning.  Other times, it's a unique challenge.

The Loving Family.  Mildred, Richard, and their three children Peggy, Donald, and Sidney

Tie A Yellow Ribbon...

A mom conversation:

Me: I've been reading up on Endometriosis and it's really frustrating.
Mom: Why's that?
Me:  Well, nobody knows anything!  They don't really know what causes it so the evidence behind the treatments is kind of random.
Mom:  Yeah, I read that Lupron thing is really for prostate cancer.  You guys need your own drugs.  There just isn't enough money to go around for all the causes anymore.  Especially resarch.  You know this.
Me:  Yeah, but it's still frustrating.  I feel like I need to get involved somehow and I don't know how.
Mom:  You need a thing.
Me:  A thing?
Mom:  Yeah.  To raise awareness.  Like the breast cancer people.  But no one wants to talk about menstruation.
Me:  There are groups, mom.  There's even a ribbon.
Mom:  A ribbon?
Me:  Yeah.  It's yellow.
Mom:  Isn't something else a yellow ribbon?
Me:  Yup.  Missing people, soldiers who have been deployed...
Mom:  Oh yeah.  "Tie a yellow ribbon" and all that.  That's dumb.  You need a different color.  It shouldn't even be a ribbon.
Me: Why not?  Missing people and autism have ribbons.
Mom:  Yeah, but you guys should be more like the red dress people.  You know how women's heart disease has the red dress campaign?
Me:  So we should have a yellow dress?
Mom:  Or a yellow tampon.
Me:  MOM!
Mom: You could even tie the string into a bow.

Gotta love the momma person.

The Worst Way to be Popular

I've never considered myself to be popular.

People don't dislike me and when they get to know me they like me just fine, but I'm generally a quiet person.  I'm the girl no one really thinks much about, but if they were to be asked, "Do you know Lisa?" they'd say, "Sure.  She's nice."

My clinic is a busy place.  I don't think I've ever seen the same patient in the waiting room twice.  I've noticed over time that staff has become more comfortable with me.   There are more smiles, more "good lucks" and well wishes after one treatment or another.  When the phone rings, the message just says "Hi Lisa!  It's M."  I no longer hear, "Hello Lisa.  This is M.  I'm one of the nurses at Blah Blah Blah Fertility Clinic."  That much is nice, but now things are... unsettling.

At my lap, there were a billion people there, I swear.  I am in surgeries as part of my job a couple of times a week.  There is a scrub nurse, a circulating nurse, the surgeon, a resident, a me, and a nurse anesthetist or anesthesiologist.  Every once in awhile a med student or another resident will be there, but those are the usual players.  When I went in to the OR, I remember being overwhelmed at the number of people in there.  There was my RE, one of the fellows I always see, a resident I'd never met before, an anesthesiologist (MD count of 4 now), a nurse anesthetist, and about 3 or 4 more random people.  I'm assuming they were nurses and/or residents or med students.  I really wasn't planning on adding that many people to the cooter view count at the time, but so be it. 

When I went to the clinic for a culture yesterday, I walked right in and the receptionist (There are 3.  They are that busy.) didn't even need my name.  She actually just buzzed me right on back and told me to go ahead to the bathroom and put my sample on the counter in the lab.  I could just wander around the clinic with a jar of pee.  When I came out, I heard a nurse talking with the PA.

"Lisa's here.  Were you going to do a UA?"
"Oh yeah.  I'll still send it out, but let me do a dip really quickly."

At the same time, another nurse walked by me from the other hallway and said, "Hey Lisa!  How are you?  Hanging in?  Healing up okay?"

I like that there's a nice comfort level there and I feel like I'm in good hands when they know me so well.  But at the same time... I must be spending way too much time there.

I make it a point to get to know my patients well from day one, but I also know that I need to get that 6 month old to trust me so that I can help him or her the best way possible and that I will likely be spending the next 21 years working with this family (We have a good pension plan, what can I say.). 

When I first started at the fertility clinic, I was just another patient.  One that they thought was a young chippie who would be in and out, getting pregnant with just a little help.  I had to give my name and DOB all the time.  People introduced themselves J, forgetting that they already had... twice.  Now I feel like I'm a vet.  An old timer.  Someone they see on a regular basis and can't help but get to know.  But now that they know me, they have to feel invested, right?  I have to be one of the people they are trying to get the hell out of their office.  I have to be.

Owie

I am very good at getting UTIs.  So when I tried to go before bed last night and it burned and not much came out, I was a tad bit worried.  When it happened again this morning, I called the clinic.  They had me come in for a urinalysis.  Thankfully, it was negative.  Just a little blood in there.  They're sending it for culture, just in case, but it's just part of healing, it seems.  I kind of felt like a hypochondriac, but better safe than sorry, right?  And since I was near J's office, we got to have lunch.  I'm now totally wiped.  I'm still going to try to go to work tomorrow because I am bored out of my gourd.

Aside from being tired, things aren't so bad.   I'm a little sore, it hurts when I first get up, still bleeding some, I'm still bloaty and... round, but overall the belly area is on the mend.  The bad part... I've got a canker sore the size of Texas right next to my uvula.  It hurts to swallow, it hurts to talk, sometimes breathing hurts.  This thing is a bitch.  I'm good at getting canker sores too, so I'm assuming that the anesthesiologist nicked me when he was intubating me, I got an owie and now it' s a canker sore.  Ugh!  I hate mouth owies.

The Lap Story

The day before surgery, I got a call from the anesthesiologist.  Apparently they just do a phone screen for the young and healthy.  He was really nice and answered all of my questions.  He said that my blood work was all negative, and "unfortunately so was the pregnancy test."  I kind of chuckled and said that the last test was only a week-and-a-half ago, so I couldn't say I was surprised.  He said, "Well, it always hurts to hear it.  I don't tell many people this, but my wife and I were there at the same clinic and we now have two children.  So you're in good hands."  I thought that was so nice of him.

Surgery was scheduled for 8:45 and we were required to be there at 7:15.  We checked in and they took me back to the prep area.  After I changed into my beautiful gown, they took my vitals, got my IV started, and brought J back to sit with me.  My RE came back and gave us his post op instructions and what he expected would happen in surgery.  Then they gave me some Versed and back we went.  I was a little loopy, but managed to get myself situated on the table, which seemed to have some sort of butt cut out on it?  I don't know.  I just know I was trying to put my but near, but not in a hole.  They put my arms by my sides in some styrofoamy things, and that's all I remember.

Next thing I remember was hearing a nurse call out to the nurse's station "where's Mylastname?"  and I chirped, "right here."  Then my husband's shiny face was there in my recovery hole.  He told me what the RE told him.  That there was a lot of endo.  It was on my ovaries, bladder, rectum, and pelvic wall.  They lasered some and excised others.  He staged it at 2 since most of it was superficial, but that there was a lot and it would account for my pain.  The hysteroscopy looked good.  They took a biopsy, but there were no polyps, adhesions, or fibroids.  Surgery took about 2 and-a-half hours.

I wasn't in much pain in the recovery room, but I was a bit nauseous.  She gave me something and POOF it was gone.  I was so tired, but apparently they really want you out of there.  What was weird on the way out what that the nurse was wheeling me to the car in a wheel chair and chatting and someone came hurrying up behind her, put her hand on my shoulder and said, "Bye Dr. Mylastname!  Take care!"  I just said "thanks," but couldn't see who it was.  The nurse pushing me said,  "You're a doctor?"  I skipped my whole, "I'm not a physician.  It's a clinical degree.  Kind of like an optometrist." spiel and just said "yeah."  She said, "I should have known from your shoes."  I had my clogs on.  But I don't know who came up behind me and it kind of freaked me out.  I know there was nothing "doctoresque" on my intake paperwork.  I was in a hospital that we kind of "compete" with and I didn't want to fall on anyone's radar.

I slept most of yesterday.  The first pee hurt like nobody's business.  I've been in quite a bit of pain, especially my throat.  I wasn't allowed to eat solid food yesterday and I still haven't pooped.  That freaks me out.  Once I'm in a position, I feel fine, but sitting up, lying down, basically moving into a position hurts.  I have not had any of that shoulder pain, thankfully.  Really really thankful for that.  My husband has been a saint.  I feel like such a schmo asking him to do so much for me.  I had to wake him repeatedly so that I could get help getting up to pee.  Whenever I stand I feel like my innards are just hanging there.  Like there's nothing to support them.  It's weird.  And they are super pissed that there were lasers thrown at them.

I'm glad we have a diagnosis, I'm glad I'm not a hypochondriac, and I'm glad it was mostly superficial.  I hate that there is anything wrong with me, but I'm glad to finally have some sort of confirmation.  Post op is in two weeks and we'll see where to go next.

I hope that colase kicks in soon!  There really is no such thing as TMI in an IF blog, is there?

Surgery OVER!

I'm home and had a chance to sleep a bunch. They want me flat so the laptop isn't really feasible. Blogging from my phone, so this will be short and riddled with errors.
I have stage 2 endometriosis.  It was all over in there, including rectum, bladder, and ovaries. He staged it as 2 because although there was a lot, it was NOT deep. Hooray! He did lasering and excision of lesions. Tubes are still open, no fibroids or polyps. Just the endo. I have post op in 2 weeks to talk about what to do. He fully expects it to come back. One of the fellows I see a lot was there and he promised to take before and after pics. I hope he did! Yay gore!
The IV meds are starting to wear off and holy mother! 30 min and I can take something. I'll write the whole story tomorrow. My husband is awesome. He rented The Vow.
Thanks for all of the kind and supportive comments!