I am never eating museli again. I don’t know what it is, but my stomach goes into complete revolt right now when presented with what has been my usual breakfast for several weeks.
As far as I can tell, despite this gastric upset (and oh my, it involved much dry retching, just about managing to be sick, violently clearing the system in the other direction rendering prune juice totally unnecessary, some weeping, lots of pain and lasted about 2 hours), Thing 1 is ensconced in a nice thick endometrium.
I, meanwhile, have just attempted a cream cracker with some cottage cheese and while I feel decidedly delicate, do feel much more chipper than I did for the two hours after breakfast. And, this time I did not end up in A&E. Mostly cos I couldn’t figure out how to get myself there.
But I am never eating museli again. It clearly no longer agrees with me.
So. Another Monday, another scan (ovary smaller, but other liquid floating about). Two days of mild indigestion (not helped by being really slow off the mark about realising I’m actually constipated by my standards….). Yesterday I went for another scan, and got to Go Outside and Walk in the Car Park. This did immense things for my mental wellbeing, and I think helped relieved the constipation a bit this morning. Honestly. I feel so much more comfortable now (is this TMI?).
There is, after all, a limit to how long one can stay on the sofa watching Last of the Summer Wine and Doctor Who. I’m on Season 4 of Doctor Who now. Catherine Tate and David Tennant. Best Doctor and Companion ever: finally, we stop having a companion who’s mooning about being in love with The Doctor. I love Catherine Tate. I met her while she was in Much Ado About Nothing. She’s just so kind, and friendly, and down to earth and funny and normal. Bloody Love Catherine Tate.
There’s been knitting. There’s going to be some cross stitch. I have started my tax return. I have written all my Christmas Cards, bought and wrapped most of the presents (other than N’s stocking, which I think is going to have a Running theme this year). I have worn my onesie over my PJs. I have rested as much as I am capable of, mindful that the RCOG says, with OHSS, to move about so that you don’t get a DVT. Today I intend to walk to the letterbox (200 yards).
I have learned the hard way that, while I am on progesterone, I eat Little and Often. Because a full roast dinner with a sluggish digestion is really uncomfortable and results in a night of really not sleeping (Hello 3am! And 4am! And 5am! And 6am! But not 7am! And then it was time to get up). And this doesn’t help N if he’s got an Early Morning Run for Tokyo Training.
All the slowness in resolving the OHSS is apparently a Good Sign. I am cautiously optimistic, not entirely sure how I’m going to get through to tomorrow morning, terrified of actually testing, and totally on tenterhooks.
I’m going to have my lunch very early. Actually, it’s the remnants of last night’s supper which I didn’t finish because I was too full owing to aforementioned backing up of the digestive system.
It’s much harder to drink 2 litres of water while actually working from home instead of lolling about on the sofa.
I am not keen on this waiting bit. And I really am not looking forward to the bit where I take a pregnancy test next week. Too many negative ones. Too many that were positive then negative. It’s a lot easier not knowing. And talking to Thing1. I rather enjoy that.
Progesterone is great. I had to send N to acquire the next cup-size up bra for me. On the downside, it’s going to be such a long slog getting my fitness back if this doesn’t work…. all this lolling. All this boobage to try and squash into a sports bra…
I may still have Ovarian Hyperstimulation Syndrome, but rest and water have started doing their thing. Today’s scan said my left ovary has shrunk down a bit. Still got a bit too much liquid sloshing about the place (although less than before), so I get to go for another scan on Friday. I am allowed to WFH tomorrow which will keep me occupied. I am not allowed to walk for more than five minutes at a time. I am glad I do not need to go into the office, frankly, the amount of energy it took to get in and out of Woking to the clinic had me slightly surprised.
The lovely thing about the extra scans is that I got my endometrium measured as part of the process. It is nice and thick and just what Thing1 wants at this point. I am a memory foam mattress. So, fingers crossed, even with all this upset, Thing1 is settling in cosily.
This made up for feeling rough as anything after the scan. She was ever so lovely, but boy was she Thorough.
A new, and exciting, development. My left ovary is 9cm across, and sloshing about in about 200ml of liquid. Bizarrely, I still fit into my jeans (must be the cut) but I have been put onto sofa rest and have to have another scan on Wednesday.
It seems there’s not much you can do to prevent Ovarian Hyperstimulation Syndrome. Treatment is rest and liquid. Complications involve DVT and fluid on the lungs (but hey! Don’t exercise!). At worst they’ll send me to hospital and hook me up to a drip. But it does seem that all you can do is wait it out. Apparently, it will resolve faster if I’m not pregnant. What a thought.
I haven’t slept enough. My health insurance doesn’t cover complications of IVF (but my consultant is also a consultant at the local hospital, so I am sure I can skip the private hospital if I am well enough to argue the toss…and I have savings for this sort of eventuality). I am a Bit Worried about it all. I have been signed off work, but I could wfh I reckon. Will see what the result of the next scan is. It seems disingenuous to not work when my brain is mostly functional. On the other hand, the Christmas Cards are getting done. And they didn’t ask if I could wfh. Just that I stop working and self-certify. Aye me. So complicated. Such an ethical conundrum. The thing is: other than this build up of fluid, I feel fairly symptom-free. Very little pain. Some slightly darker pee (so I have something to drink: but I’m a runner. I am obsessed with the shade of my pee anyhow and I suspect my tolerance level of pee colour is lower than most peoples’). Some bloating, but no worse than I’ve had pre-menstrually.
This is an incoherent brain dump.
Stick, Thing1, stick!
We also have one in the freezer. This is more or less as good as it could be. I have spent the afternoon being rather lazy on the sofa watching silly films, based on a study done in an Israeli clinic where they sent in a clown to entertain women after IVF and got better results.
Well. Why not giggle?
Of course, I’m not actually pregnant until a proper HCG test, and anything could happen in the next 2 weeks until that happens.
It’s been slow, ponderous, emotionally strained, anxious and sleepy.
On the plus side, no-one has phoned to say Thing1 & Thing2 have given up the ghost, so I guess we are all go for tomorrow.
This is faintly terrifying, as well as being exciting. I’m going to go knit. We need to be on the 7:46 train tomorrow, and the only time I’ve made it out of bed before 7:46 this week was Monday.