Yesterday I got an EOB from my insurance company where they'd denied a claim from my RE's office. Now, I know that my insurance doesn't cover any infertility procedures, operations, etc., so I know that some of the things I'm doing aren't covered. But this was for a fucking office visit! An office visit to an in-network doctor, straight out of the little directory of approved providers.
But here's the rub: apparently my previous office visits--which were covered, by the way-- weren't specifically coded with the big "IF". This office visit was. So now, even though I went to a covered doctor, this visit isn't covered since it was an INFERTILITY office visit.
I can't even begin to describe how incredibly livid I am right now. I mean, what does C*gna think that people go to reproductive endocrinologists for, anyway? To get ingrown toenails treated? So, that's that; I'm done with my RE. The office visits are prohibitively expensive to pay out of pocket (remember, this is a SWANK practice!), especially on top of the non-covered services I'm already paying for.
I have three refills of my drugs, and after that no more. I'll probably stick to my original plan of trying insems (that will now be unmedicated) through the end of this year-- my personal cutoff point for TTC-- but I'm really starting to realize that there will be no baby at the the end of this journey.
Can I just say how much it sucks to be at work right now? All I really want to do is go and drink about 2 bottles of wine and cry for a while. Thank God no one else is in the office today, because if someone were to just look at me the wrong way, I think I might lose my shit.
Friday, May 18, 2007
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
I slept through most of Mother's Day
My family isn't as close-knit as it used to be, but we do make an effort to get together on the major --and minor-- holidays. Since the main branches of the family are all here in the same town, it's rather easy. This year's Mother Day dinner was being held at cousin "Lisa's" house.
I was feeling like warmed-over ass that day, nauseous and tired from my trigger shot, so my mom volunteered to play chauffeur. It's only about a 15 minute drive to Lisa's house, and I fell deeply asleep in the car. We arrived, my mom poked me to rouse me, and I staggered just barely awake into the house and started on the greeting rounds. All of the women were in the kitchen (as usual), while all the men were either watching golf/football/whatever sport is on TV or shooting pool (as usual). Everything was normal and okay for all of about 10 minutes... then Lisa's sister, my cousin "Helen" spoke up.
Helen, who was busy putting roasted chickens on a serving platter, informed me laughingly that I should be helping with the food. I was completely taken by surprise, since all my offers to help over the years have been politely, but firmly, turned down. "Uhhh," I said intelligently, "I always offer, but end up watching golf. But sure, I can help."
"Well, today is Mother's Day, so all of the non-mothers are going to get everything together and serve the mothers," Helen chirped gaily.
I'd been fine all day, I swear. I hadn't had a single moment of self-pity or angst, nada. And one little sentence, one remark, blew through my cool. I walked over to the sink to wash my hands, and muttered to the third sister (my favorite), "It's not my fault that I'm not a mother, it's my uncooperative reproductive organs. And if everyone else is supposed to serve the mothers, then why aren't any of the men in here helping?"
Sister #3, Stella, quickly agreed with me and called on the testosterone posse to come help, so I felt slightly vindicated. I mean, getting the men in my family to help with dinner is an accomplishment as worthy as discovering penicillin. But as great as that felt, it didn't make up for the moment of anger and pain when it was implied that I was nothing more than Cinderella (pre-Bibbity Boppity Boo) because I don't have children.
The anger didn't last too long, though, because after I ate, I promptly found a love seat and passed out for about 3 hours until it was time to go home. The spiteful part of me hopes that they all thought I was really ill, and that they might get sick because I was handling food.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Today I am about 5 dpo. I have no idea if my trigger is out of my urine yet; I tested positive with a hpt 2 days past trigger (four days ago) but haven't tested since. Nothing to report other than cramps and broccoli-induced gas. I'm honestly not holding out much hope for this cycle, as my one follicle was on my "possibly partially blocked tube" side, the left side.
Of course, I'd be a liar if I said that that wasn't a worry factor. What if the egg fertilizes, and then gets stuck in my tube? Yep, I'm not so much stressing out over the TWW, as I am the possibility of a tubal pregnancy. Hey, I gotta have something to obsess about!
I was feeling like warmed-over ass that day, nauseous and tired from my trigger shot, so my mom volunteered to play chauffeur. It's only about a 15 minute drive to Lisa's house, and I fell deeply asleep in the car. We arrived, my mom poked me to rouse me, and I staggered just barely awake into the house and started on the greeting rounds. All of the women were in the kitchen (as usual), while all the men were either watching golf/football/whatever sport is on TV or shooting pool (as usual). Everything was normal and okay for all of about 10 minutes... then Lisa's sister, my cousin "Helen" spoke up.
Helen, who was busy putting roasted chickens on a serving platter, informed me laughingly that I should be helping with the food. I was completely taken by surprise, since all my offers to help over the years have been politely, but firmly, turned down. "Uhhh," I said intelligently, "I always offer, but end up watching golf. But sure, I can help."
"Well, today is Mother's Day, so all of the non-mothers are going to get everything together and serve the mothers," Helen chirped gaily.
I'd been fine all day, I swear. I hadn't had a single moment of self-pity or angst, nada. And one little sentence, one remark, blew through my cool. I walked over to the sink to wash my hands, and muttered to the third sister (my favorite), "It's not my fault that I'm not a mother, it's my uncooperative reproductive organs. And if everyone else is supposed to serve the mothers, then why aren't any of the men in here helping?"
Sister #3, Stella, quickly agreed with me and called on the testosterone posse to come help, so I felt slightly vindicated. I mean, getting the men in my family to help with dinner is an accomplishment as worthy as discovering penicillin. But as great as that felt, it didn't make up for the moment of anger and pain when it was implied that I was nothing more than Cinderella (pre-Bibbity Boppity Boo) because I don't have children.
The anger didn't last too long, though, because after I ate, I promptly found a love seat and passed out for about 3 hours until it was time to go home. The spiteful part of me hopes that they all thought I was really ill, and that they might get sick because I was handling food.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Today I am about 5 dpo. I have no idea if my trigger is out of my urine yet; I tested positive with a hpt 2 days past trigger (four days ago) but haven't tested since. Nothing to report other than cramps and broccoli-induced gas. I'm honestly not holding out much hope for this cycle, as my one follicle was on my "possibly partially blocked tube" side, the left side.
Of course, I'd be a liar if I said that that wasn't a worry factor. What if the egg fertilizes, and then gets stuck in my tube? Yep, I'm not so much stressing out over the TWW, as I am the possibility of a tubal pregnancy. Hey, I gotta have something to obsess about!
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Random thoughts
I've had a lot of weird thoughts popping into my head lately. Here are a few of them:
1) I've been having lots of dreams that I'm pregnant. Several times I was pregnant with twins. Since I grew up with a Southern granny who insisted that dreams of pregnancy/birth were a sign of an impending death, I'm just waiting to see who croaks. Okay, sure, I'm obsessed with getting knocked up which is why I'm dreaming about it; but still, I can't just overcome years of dream-meaning training in one go.
2) Guilty secret: Ever since I was a kid, I've loved the Laura Ingalls Wilder books, the "Little House" series. Even though I'm in my 30's, I still pull them out and read them at least once every year or two.
For some reason this morning, an incident popped into my head from one of the later books, where Laura and Almanzo have gotten married and had a child, their daughter Rose. An older couple, family friends (the Boasts), actually offered to buy baby Rose, as they had never been able to have children. Mr. Boast tried to make the deal, saying that they were so young that they'd have more children, but that he and his wife desperately wanted a child and could never have one. All the while, Mrs. Boast sat outside in the wagon, waiting to find out what happened.
As a youngster, I just thought it was kinda sad and very weird that someone would offer to buy a baby. Now, as an adult who knows how heartbreaking infertility can be, I can truly feel for the Boasts.
3) I think it's funny, yet sad, that IFs will try just about anything if there's a chance it could help them conceive. For all that we're supposed so much more advanced than our forefathers, I can't help but think that we're not so much more advanced after all. I mean, what's the difference between Pliny's advice to barren women to eat a hyena's eye with food, licorice and dill to ensure conception, and the current fertility-fad to swallow mouthfuls of "Chinese fertility herbs" from a guy named Biff who claims to have been trained in eastern medicine? I'm tempted to start a rumour that eating three chocolate bars a day will improve your uterine lining, just to see how many women start doing it. They might not get pregnant, but their thighs will spread, and at least then I won't be alone in my gigantic thigh-ness.
4) I hate some of the cutesy abbreviations in the IF world. "Preggo" or "prego" for pregnant women is probably the one I hate the most. If I am lucky/blessed/etc. enough to get pregnant, I will bitch-slap the first person who refers to me as a jar of spaghetti sauce. I don't mind good old-fashioned, and somewhat derogatory, terms like "knocked up"; I'm weird enough to find that somewhat charming. But I am not chunky, garlic & mushroom, or traditionally flavored, thank you.
5) Sometimes I have far too much free time at work. Did you know that a lot of networks have full episodes of TV shows & TV movies online? For free? And of course there's Yo*T*be, with all kinds of video silliness. This week, I've watched Heroes (which I originally mistyped as Herpes), The Partridge Family, Richard Pryor stand-up, and Scrubs. I really shouldn't be left alone in the office so much.
1) I've been having lots of dreams that I'm pregnant. Several times I was pregnant with twins. Since I grew up with a Southern granny who insisted that dreams of pregnancy/birth were a sign of an impending death, I'm just waiting to see who croaks. Okay, sure, I'm obsessed with getting knocked up which is why I'm dreaming about it; but still, I can't just overcome years of dream-meaning training in one go.
2) Guilty secret: Ever since I was a kid, I've loved the Laura Ingalls Wilder books, the "Little House" series. Even though I'm in my 30's, I still pull them out and read them at least once every year or two.
For some reason this morning, an incident popped into my head from one of the later books, where Laura and Almanzo have gotten married and had a child, their daughter Rose. An older couple, family friends (the Boasts), actually offered to buy baby Rose, as they had never been able to have children. Mr. Boast tried to make the deal, saying that they were so young that they'd have more children, but that he and his wife desperately wanted a child and could never have one. All the while, Mrs. Boast sat outside in the wagon, waiting to find out what happened.
As a youngster, I just thought it was kinda sad and very weird that someone would offer to buy a baby. Now, as an adult who knows how heartbreaking infertility can be, I can truly feel for the Boasts.
3) I think it's funny, yet sad, that IFs will try just about anything if there's a chance it could help them conceive. For all that we're supposed so much more advanced than our forefathers, I can't help but think that we're not so much more advanced after all. I mean, what's the difference between Pliny's advice to barren women to eat a hyena's eye with food, licorice and dill to ensure conception, and the current fertility-fad to swallow mouthfuls of "Chinese fertility herbs" from a guy named Biff who claims to have been trained in eastern medicine? I'm tempted to start a rumour that eating three chocolate bars a day will improve your uterine lining, just to see how many women start doing it. They might not get pregnant, but their thighs will spread, and at least then I won't be alone in my gigantic thigh-ness.
4) I hate some of the cutesy abbreviations in the IF world. "Preggo" or "prego" for pregnant women is probably the one I hate the most. If I am lucky/blessed/etc. enough to get pregnant, I will bitch-slap the first person who refers to me as a jar of spaghetti sauce. I don't mind good old-fashioned, and somewhat derogatory, terms like "knocked up"; I'm weird enough to find that somewhat charming. But I am not chunky, garlic & mushroom, or traditionally flavored, thank you.
5) Sometimes I have far too much free time at work. Did you know that a lot of networks have full episodes of TV shows & TV movies online? For free? And of course there's Yo*T*be, with all kinds of video silliness. This week, I've watched Heroes (which I originally mistyped as Herpes), The Partridge Family, Richard Pryor stand-up, and Scrubs. I really shouldn't be left alone in the office so much.
CD 16: hcg trigger day!
Just 48 hours after my last u/s, my 16mm follicle has grown to a nice, plump 20mm. So I was told to trigger, and systems are go!
Despite the fact that I love watching the techs when they draw my blood, and that I have several body piercings, I have to admit that I was nervous about the trigger shot. Not because I'm afraid of needles--obviously I'm not!-- but because I had to give it to myself. There's something about sticking a needle into your stomach that just gives you the willies, at least the first time.
I worked myself into a tizzy over it, and it turned out to be as easy as pie. I didn't even feel it, the needle was so fine, and the medicine didn't burn or anything. So now it's on to insems, and then the NEXT wait: the dreaded two-week wait.
Despite the fact that I love watching the techs when they draw my blood, and that I have several body piercings, I have to admit that I was nervous about the trigger shot. Not because I'm afraid of needles--obviously I'm not!-- but because I had to give it to myself. There's something about sticking a needle into your stomach that just gives you the willies, at least the first time.
I worked myself into a tizzy over it, and it turned out to be as easy as pie. I didn't even feel it, the needle was so fine, and the medicine didn't burn or anything. So now it's on to insems, and then the NEXT wait: the dreaded two-week wait.
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
CD 14 and counting
I feel like I've walked over an invisible line in the sand, like something has changed forever. I've gone from "trying for a long time, but somehow still managing to fool myself that things aren't so bad", straight to "Nothing short of a star in the east is going to get me pregnant."
Yep, last Thursday my skinny little FedEx guy came into my office and handed me a package that contained my hcg trigger shot. There was something about actually holding that ovidrel syringe that made something click in my head, and I'm not completely sure what it is was, honestly.
I'm cd14 and I had an u/s this morning to check my follicles. As I would expect, as a PCOSer, I had about 16 small follicles, but I didn't care about those. I wanted to see something fat and grand, a nice big, black blot on that screen to assure me that something was going on this cycle. And there it was, on my left ovary: one 16mm follicle.
I'd thought my doctor was crazy, wanting me to wait until cd14-15 to have a follicle check. But I have to admit, rather sheepishly, that yes Virginia, the reproductive endocrinologist knows more than I do! Since I'm typically a later O-er, around cd17-19, I'm really well on track with my body's natural rhythm. I guess I was just hoping that the meds might speed things along. But my doc knew better, and scheduled this first u/s just right.
Dr. McHottie wants my follicle to grow some more, so I go back in two days to check it again. By then, it should be large enough for me to trigger. I'm doing opks at home to make sure I don't surge before then.
And once I trigger, then I'll get to pee on a stick, and see what a positive pregnancy test looks like. Yes, I'm really that pathetic. I know it'll just be the trigger making it positive, but I've never had one, and I wanna see it, damn it.
Yep, last Thursday my skinny little FedEx guy came into my office and handed me a package that contained my hcg trigger shot. There was something about actually holding that ovidrel syringe that made something click in my head, and I'm not completely sure what it is was, honestly.
I'm cd14 and I had an u/s this morning to check my follicles. As I would expect, as a PCOSer, I had about 16 small follicles, but I didn't care about those. I wanted to see something fat and grand, a nice big, black blot on that screen to assure me that something was going on this cycle. And there it was, on my left ovary: one 16mm follicle.
I'd thought my doctor was crazy, wanting me to wait until cd14-15 to have a follicle check. But I have to admit, rather sheepishly, that yes Virginia, the reproductive endocrinologist knows more than I do! Since I'm typically a later O-er, around cd17-19, I'm really well on track with my body's natural rhythm. I guess I was just hoping that the meds might speed things along. But my doc knew better, and scheduled this first u/s just right.
Dr. McHottie wants my follicle to grow some more, so I go back in two days to check it again. By then, it should be large enough for me to trigger. I'm doing opks at home to make sure I don't surge before then.
And once I trigger, then I'll get to pee on a stick, and see what a positive pregnancy test looks like. Yes, I'm really that pathetic. I know it'll just be the trigger making it positive, but I've never had one, and I wanna see it, damn it.
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