My plan went somewhat…awry.

The flight in was bumpy, but we managed to see a few of the family (and some of the animals) before going to bed. On Friday, we got to see even more family and had a merry old time.

By Friday Night, I was taken to the ER. My kind sister, knowing me well as she does, offered to take a picture of me for the blog. So, here we have documentary evidence that I can get really sick and still remain a bit silly.

Please note that I am apparently too metal for the Emergency Room. I was brought in carrying a pink basin like the one you can see in the image (but I think that it had been traded out by then) and yet my sister still didn’t hit me for repeatedly saying “I Has a Bucket.” (Yes. I explained the whole LOLrus thing to my cousin, but then she already knew I was weird.)

Finally, I was taken home at about dawn and I ended up sleeping the entire rest of Saturday. Like, nearly 24 hours, waking up every time someone opened the door…’cause I’m just that light a sleeper. By the time I’d left, there were seven of us that had fallen ill.

Seven. Seven women, no less. Including my poor sister and my Nana. Don’t worry. Everyone was fine in the end (or so I hear) and the last two may not have even had the same thing. Still, I felt a bit like Patient Zero, even though I didn’t get sick until after I arrived. It sort of put paid to our vacation plans, though. It’s fun and all to call it the Vacation from Hell. I mean, if I was going to be ill, I could just as easily have stayed home. Worse yet, there is precedence for this. When I was quite young I brought the measles with me to Georgia. That was, in a word, bad.

But…I’ve had some time to think about the whole thing in the last week, and some things have occurred to me:

1) If I’m going to be quite that ill, the best place to do it is somewhere with a massive support network. (I have a lot of family, bless them.)
2) I am industrial strength. More so than I thought, even. My stomach muscles are amazing. …Though, Hello! they still hurt. Ow.
3) My Aunt is even more industrial strength than I am. I now aspire to be her.
4) I got to see my family and meet many of their animals.
5) The Georgia Aquarium has many places to sit. This helps if you are going to visit it right after being ill.
6) I still love Hee Haw and so does my uncle.
7) I took a bunch of pictures!

So, while the vacation was a bit of a nightmare, and not what I was looking forward too, it was still a vacation. My parents and siblings live two hours away from me, but I got to spend several days with them. I saw most of my cousins and their kids. All in all…not terrible. I guess I’ll just have to try again soon.

Well, okay. Not really. But I’m certainly taking a break in fertility land.

So, I’m pretty sure that I haven’t updated you all on this topic in a while, so for those few of you who are new to my blog (if any) my husband and I have been trying to have kids for coming up on six and a half years now. This has left me a) exhausted mentally, physically, and emotionally b) puffy c)lacking in creativity and d) really rather annoyed. In short, no fun to be around.

The most recent fertility drug I’ve been on involved twice daily belly injections as of this last round. The amount of drug/amount of injections has varied over the time I’ve used it. And, at last check, the belly injections have not been more effective than the last oral drug I took. So, the prevailing theory is to go back to it next. Femara, not the evil Clomid of “I Have All Side Effects on the List.”

Also? The Nurse Practitioners keep telling me I should really “see someone” about my depression problems relating to this issue. Sigh.

Honestly? I’m tired of being constantly exhausted/not feeling like myself/being even more ready to cry than usual (which is saying something, folks)/not exercising as much as I’d like to due to paranoia/etc. I want to get back in shape and stop putting off my life for a theoretical possibility. Now, this whole infertility thing itself is depressing, but I think at this point I need to see about finding some joy for myself. I’ll get back on the horse once I feel a bit more on an even keel.

In the next month I’m: going to Reno to see a car museum and a clothing museum; taking in a concert played by Kansas, Styx, AND Foreigner; heading down to Disneyland and a party at the Stinking Rose; and flying out to Atlanta with my sister to go to my Nana’s 95th birthday party. I’ll probably spend the following month recovering. Egad. This should also give me something much less depressing to think about.

Hello again all.

I’ve had my new job for two weeks at this point, and I must say I am loving it. I’m not so big on having to deal with a learning curve situation, as I much prefer to know what I’m doing inside and out. (I have a whole perfectionist/hate making mistakes thing…’cause, I’m all perfect and stuff, y’know. Sigh.) Once I’ve finished putting away my stuff, I’ll take some photos of the place for you all. I have four bookcases! Four! (Maniacal laughter)

Oh! And my hair is red now. Every Spring, some alarm seems to go off in my head, and I decide that my hair is booooring. That is a photo of me at the top, taken with a program on my new computer.

In other, more TMI news…

My cycle started again, so after taking January off due to the three ovarian cysts and February off due to bad timing (I went to L.A. for Gallifrey One, remember?) I headed back in to get my innards checked out. The good news: I no longer have three cysts. The bad news: I have one sizable one. or at least, it looked pretty big to me. So, no drugs again, but we’re probably going to try the ovulation kit and and an IUI.

And, I have to say, I’m getting tired of all of this. It’s terribly depressing. Six years of this is a bit…hard to deal with. I’m getting afraid that I’ll be too set in my ways to deal with the chaotic whirlwind that is a child. Will I lose the ability to play airplanes in the park or understand that playing in the mud is fun, not just messy. I don’t know. And I’m tired of not being able to exercise as much as I want to for fear that I’ll lift something heavy without thinking or something along those lines. I’m not really built to be that careful. I used to do all sorts of stomach crunches, darn it! Also? I want to lose twenty pounds. I’m getting fat. And I don’t feel like I have enough time left to take a break and deal with getting in shape or make some life changes that might help.

Yeah. Frustrated. Flabby. And still not pregnant. No idea why, either. And all that the drugs seem to do is give me more cysts.

At least my new job is fun.

Pros:
1. I can help wake you up.
2. It can help with a sore throat.
3. The heat can help with a stuffed up head.
4. It helps with asthma problems.
5. It’s a tasty beverage, that goes particularly well with sweets.
6. It can help with mental focus.
7. A hot cup of coffee in a mug is two weapons in one. (I’ve mentioned my favorite weapon here before, yes?)

Cons:
1. It can keep you awake when you would rather sleep.
2. It can make your hands very unsteady.
3. It can give you an acid belly/disagree with your system.
4. It can take a normal stress reaction and make it go through the roof. Hello panic attack.
5. It can help you focus *way too much*. Must…Finish…Project!

and the one I’d totally forgotten about until Saturday:
6. It makes me paranoid.

Yep. Did you know that everyone was ignoring me on Saturday? No? How about the fact that my co-workers are all going to be angry with me for calling in sick on Saturday and I’ll ‘get in trouble’ for doing so? Sigh. I called in sick because of the whole coughing/sneezing/runny nose/having trouble breathing problem that I drank the coffee for in the first place.

Note to self: One cup is okay. Two cups is pushing it these days. Three cups is right out. You haven’t worked graveyard shift in thirteen years, and you are getting more sensitive as you get older. Don’t be a paranoid dork. Yes. Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they aren’t out to get you, but seriously…

So drink tea instead!

(So, my friends have a shoulder cat. That’s me that she’s resting on.)

So, remember my hope that 2010 would be better than 2009?

Yeah. Not so much.

On New Year’s Eve we had to take my Mother-in-Law to the ER. Catslyn and Eideann were coming over to spend the holiday with us, so they came along to hang out in the waiting room with us. (Have I mentioned that I have some of the best friends in the world? Well…I do.) It turned out that she was feeling crappy because her colon had blown up like a balloon. Something was blocking it. So, they admitted her and we went home. (She told us later that they came over the intercom at midnight to wish everyone a Happy New Year.)

The next day she went in for surgery, and the four of us hung out in the surgery waiting room playing Apples to Apples and Blockus. (Both really fun games.) It turned out that her ovary, now the size of a softball, had been blocking her colon. But that wasn’t the worst part. No. My Mother-in-Law has colon cancer. They’re saying stage four. (So, yeah. It’s been there a while.) It spread to her ovaries, but not her liver or anything she can’t live without (or so it looks right now.) The current plan in healing up from the ick removal surgery, then some chemo. And then…we’ll see.

So, things are a bit stressful around here right now. Which isn’t fab, as I had my IUI on Monday. I looks like the reason I had been feeling ill the previous week was either a) a reaction to one of the new meds, one of which has a fake sugar in it or b)a mysterious ailment which doesn’t include a fever. Either way, on Saturday it looked already like I was doomed to have some ovarian hyperstimulation. My ovaries were a bit…unhappy. Actually, the NP on Saturday made it sound like I already had a mild case. *shrug* I started to feel a bit ill when I got home this evening, so I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.

Enough with the bad stuff, here are a couple good things to counteract the bad:

1) The 2010 Mustang has heated front seats. Catslyn drives one. Shiny thing.

2) The Vig and his wife will be in town this weekend. We plan to have dinner together.

And now, I’m going to pass out…after a few game of solitaire on my shiny new ipod touch.

Welcome to my roller coaster.

Tuesday last week, after having returned home from Kauai late the night before, I went to get my pregnancy test for this go around. Then…I did stuff around the house.

Wednesday morning I called in for my results. There was a long pause and then the nurse informed me that my test had come back positive.

Me: “Are you sure?”
Her: “Yes. Your HcG level is 23. *starts to list off a bunch of don’ts that basically bounce off of my brain*”
And then I was told to get another blood test the next day. At this point I was very cautiously optimistic, but trying not to get my hopes up. Yes. This was my first positive pregnancy test in nearly six years of trying.

Thursday brought with it another blood test. This time they were testing both for HcG and Progesterone (though how they could gauge that second one when they have me taking Progesterone, I’m not sure. Whatever.)

Friday morning I called in for my new results, and was informed that my HcG level had only gone up three to 26, and it’s supposed to have at least doubled by that point. Obviously, another test was in order. My arms were not pleased with this news.

Friday night I went to see New Moon. This improved my mood considerably.

Saturday morning I went in for the next blood test, and boy howdy that was painful. Then I went to spend the weekend with friends watching Supernatural (I’m finally in Season 5!) and organizing their DVD collection. That last part should give you an idea of the state of my nerves. They were totally shot. But now Catslyn and Eideann have their movies in alphabetical order.

Monday morning, bright and early, I called in to get the results of the third test. I was told to call back at noon as the results were not in yet. So, I did what anyone else in my situation would have done. I went back to sleep. At noon (which is when I leave for work, by the way) I called in once more for the results, only to discover that my HcG levels were now going down. The nurse stated that she would talk to the doctor and get back to me. When we finally connected (after I’d spent an hour working on the Info desk and not bursting into tears) it was determined that I get to to yet another blood test when I get back from Thanksgiving vacation. They want to make sure that the levels go back to normal, apparently.

So, there you are. My week-long roller coaster. At this point I’m low on actual data, but I gather that I was pregnant for a very short time. I guess this means that It’s actually possible. The Shingles probably didn’t help things. It hasn’t completely gone away yet, by the way. At least it doesn’t hurt anymore.

Okay. Enough with the sadness. Check out this 1967 Mustang that I found.

Tuesday, I took the day off. I got an IUI and discovered that I can nap in my car quite effectively. Except for the whole “dreaming that you’re driving” problem. (I dreamed that I was trying to get a stray dog to get into my car. The street was a busy one,m but he just wanted to frisk about. Weird.) It turned out to be very good that I took Tuesday off. Let’s just say that I was in a certain amount of pain and leave it at that.

Wednesday found me wondering what might possibly be giving me hives.

Thursday found me wondering why my rash was hurting and calling the advice nursed.

And today (Friday) I find that I do not have hives…

I have Shingles.

Shingles, for Heaven’s sake. When I can’t take much in the way of painkiller. (Though the Doc I saw tried to offer me some Vicodin. Ew. Can’t take that for two reasons…)

And my vacation starts on Wednesday.

Grumble.

I’m going to give up and go to sleep now. Night all.

Another reason to want to win the lottery: A 1967 Mercury Cougar.

Howdy folks. Remember the time that I set the kitchen on fire?

Yeah?

Well, I’d think that said Kitchen was out for revenge if I didn’t know that I am totally accident prone. You see, on Saturday I made pizza. (I know. I cooked. Don’t be too shocked.) And as I was taking the pizza out of the oven a couple of things happened at once. I burned my left arm on the oven door and my oven mitt stopped being oven-y enough. Ouch! No harm no foul, don’t worry.

Okay. Maybe a bit of harm, but nothing big. Just a red mark on my arm, which went really nicely with the bruise I got walking into a sticky-out bit of moulding that they have on the columns at work the other day. Don’t say that I can’t accessorize. (Also? What is with that design feature? Anyone?)

And that was it until Sunday evening, at which point I ventured into the kitchen to get a bottle of water to go with my tasty french toast. (Yes. Two days of cooking. A record?) Now, we keep our not-yet-refrigerated water in the space between the fridge and the start of the cabinets. I leaned over to grab a bottle from its spot, and in standing up managed to slam the top of my head into the pointy bit on the corner of the kitchen counter. Really hard. I must have made some really terrible noise, ’cause the next thing I knew, Koshvader was standing next to me demanding to know what was wrong. Then, of course, the phone started ringing, but we ignored it. I think I might have been too busy swearing. Not sure. Wow that hurt. But I think my low blood pressure finally came in handy for something, as I barely bled at all. And upon closer inspection, the *very* sharp corner of the counter is now slightly chipped. Ha! Skull: 1, Counter: 0. Downside? Now that it is a couple of days later, my head itches right where the cut is. Ah well. At least that means it’s healing, right?

For the record: So far this week I’ve managed to bang my knee a couple of times and had a cat leap into my lap, with claws extended. I’m going with the accident-prone thing rather than the Revenge of My Kitchen. Votes?

Hot Dogs are Not food! They are a food-like substance….that smells bad.

There. I’m glad to finally get that off of my chest.

Now to lighten the mood I offer you: Back to the Future 2: Electric Boogaloo . (Obviously, this is the heart-warming story of time travel…and break dancing.)

To round off this post I offer you all some actual news: I still have teeth. The only dental work I need, as it turns out, is to fix one of my pre-existing fillings. *whew* Also? I got a new toothbrush. This is actually the metric that I use to determine if a new dentist is a “real” dentist. My new dentist has passed the test. The gold star next to the check mark on their chart is due to the dental hygienist who gave me all sorts of tooth-related information while she worked. It was like being in the middle of a documentary, and I love a good documentary.

Analysis: I’m keeping them.

The good news: He’s not worried by my cyst, so we’re going to just move on to the next thing next month.

The Bad (but also good) news: The next thing is those shots in the belly. Eek!

In other news, the Universe seems to be telling me to wear skirts more often. I am having no luck with the hunting for new pants thing. I’ve been wanting to buy some girl jeans (normally I just wear 501s. Hey. They fit.) but I just can’t seem to find a pair that please me. On the other hand, I saw all kinds of pretty skirts (like this one and this one) during my shopping trip. For the record, this skirt obsession is not a new thing. And yes. I wore a skirt to work today.

Oh! And if you wish to look at more pics of Koshvader’s jewelry, go here.