Since I'm a complete novice when it comes to the new treatment & monitoring that I'll be doing next cycle, I decided to check on the prices of ultrasounds for follicular checks. I'd much prefer to know upfront exactly how much my pocket is going to suffer; when it comes to fertility treatment, surprises over your bill are NOT a good thing!
I was shocked at the disparity between the three places I checked. You wouldn't think that there would be much of a price difference, in the same city, for the same procedure, but man! At all of them, I asked for the cost based on the assumption that I would be paying 100%, without any insurance coverage.
First I called Dr. McHottie's office (my RE). They charge $250 for the first u/s. If you have to have additional u/s in the same cycle, the charge goes down to $150 per u/s. The prices reset with the next cycle.
Then I checked with my ob-gyn's office. Everyone I spoke to there seemed completely confused; I finally got to someone who knew what the hell I was talking about. I was told that yes, they do follicular u/s; but, they were unable to give me a firm price. I was quoted the range of $150-$300 dollars.
I decided to check with a radiology group here in town. They're a free-standing facility with an excellent reputation, and I've been there before for other u/s. They told me that the u/s would normally be priced at $300, but if I were going to pay it out of pocket-- and at the time of service instead of being billed and/or going through insurance, it's only half that, at $150 a pop.
So, a range of $150-$300 for the same u/s. That's just insane to me. I swear, I think that the medical profession is a subset of a Mafia syndicate. They're all a part of the same family, they send business to one another, and it's like there's a silent agreement that they don't step on each other's toes. I chose the wrong profession. I should have either gone into medicine, or into a skilled labor profession. Either way, I'd make a hell of a lot more money than I do now!
The biggest shocker of the whole thing was my mom. I keep her informed about my treatment and everything. Out of the blue, she offered to cover the costs of my next "stepped up" cycle. I was completely thrown for a loop! I always get the impression that she's not entirely in approval of what I'm doing, despite her soul-deep hunger for a grandchild. And since I'm an only child, I'm the only chance she has of getting any! But she never judges me or makes any negative remarks, and I appreciate that. So for her to volunteer to foot the bill really meant a lot to me. Maybe I'm reading too much into it, being pre-menstrual and all, but I couldn't help but feel like it meant that she was showing her support of me. That, although she might have her reservations about my actions, she respects my choices and is backing me in a way that is comfortable for her.
See, my mom is the most non-female female I know. She isn't physically demonstrative, and she doesn't like talking about feelings. I'm honestly not sure she's ever actually said she was proud of me, even though I know it without a doubt. Repression and stoicism are her friends. So I didn't/don't expect her to come right out and say, "You go for it! You try to get knocked up!" But by offering to pay for my cycle, I think she said it in the only way she knew how. Go mom!
Friday, April 20, 2007
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
I threw away a perfectly good egg (even though starving children in Africa would be grateful to have it)
Today I am 10dpo, and it means absolutely nothing, as I am on a break cycle. I knew that I would be very close to ovulation when I got back from vacation, so I decided to sit this cycle out instead of worrying through my entire trip: “Will I ovulate early and miss it? Or will the stress of travel delay my ovulation? Will I have time to get boy juice for insem? Should I take meds this cycle or not, in case all of the previous things happen?” So, I decided beforehand to screw it all, and just have a good time.
Of course, it didn’t really turn out that simple. I ended up ovulating on Easter Sunday; how’s that for irony? The ultimate Judeo-Christian day of renewal and hope, and that’s when I ovulated. On a break cycle. With no hope at all of being pregnant. So for about four days, all I did was beat myself up for not trying this cycle… even though it would have been practically impossible. I couldn’t help but think that an Easter Sunday ovulation was a SIGN, and I had missed my chance.
Isn’t it amazing how pathetic infertility can make you? I mean, I might be all Pollyanna bright when it comes to dealing with other people’s pregnancies, but believe me, when it comes to my own failures and treatments, I am the most depressing and pessimistic Debbie Downer ever.
“Sure, a superstitious (or desperate!) person could think that ovulation on Easter might be a good sign for conception to occur, but with my luck, I probably would have gotten a semen sample contaminated with a flesh-eating virus that would have destroyed my entire reproductive tract.”
MWWHAAAA-WHAAAAA!
I have my next RE consult next Wednesday, where we’ll discuss lovely things such as cervical mucous, ultrasounds, and hcg trigger shots. Honestly, though, I’m just about at a point in my treatment that I’m seriously thinking about seeing if my ob-gyn can do these things. Financially, this is about as “high tech” as I can go, and for those in the know, this ain’t nuthin’. But I absolutely, positively cannot move on to IVF, so I’m going to give this route a try for a while: minimal stim during follicular phase with femara, u/s to track follicular growth, then hcg trigger before insem.
Thing is, many ob-gyns can handle this level of treatment. And I’m about 95% sure that the costs would be less through an ob-gyn than through an RE. It seems like each and everything that goes through an RE’s office gets stamped “Infertility”, which is an automatic denial by most insurance companies, including my own. But ob-gyns tend to code things based on your underlying problems, which in my case is “PCOS”, which is more likely to be at least partially covered by insurance.
I just don’t know. Some days I just want to throw in the towel and say fuck it, I’m done. Then that insidious whisper always starts. “Don’t give up yet, this next cycle might be the one. C’mon, you know you wanna try again.” I swear, being infertile is like doing drugs: you start off just wanting a quick “fix”. But that one fix isn’t enough, and things get more complicated and expensive. Then one day, you discover that you’re addicted, and can’t figure out how to stop.
Maybe I’ll end up on a street corner somewhere, waving at passing cars and yelling out, “I’ll give you head for IVF money!”
Of course, it didn’t really turn out that simple. I ended up ovulating on Easter Sunday; how’s that for irony? The ultimate Judeo-Christian day of renewal and hope, and that’s when I ovulated. On a break cycle. With no hope at all of being pregnant. So for about four days, all I did was beat myself up for not trying this cycle… even though it would have been practically impossible. I couldn’t help but think that an Easter Sunday ovulation was a SIGN, and I had missed my chance.
Isn’t it amazing how pathetic infertility can make you? I mean, I might be all Pollyanna bright when it comes to dealing with other people’s pregnancies, but believe me, when it comes to my own failures and treatments, I am the most depressing and pessimistic Debbie Downer ever.
“Sure, a superstitious (or desperate!) person could think that ovulation on Easter might be a good sign for conception to occur, but with my luck, I probably would have gotten a semen sample contaminated with a flesh-eating virus that would have destroyed my entire reproductive tract.”
MWWHAAAA-WHAAAAA!
I have my next RE consult next Wednesday, where we’ll discuss lovely things such as cervical mucous, ultrasounds, and hcg trigger shots. Honestly, though, I’m just about at a point in my treatment that I’m seriously thinking about seeing if my ob-gyn can do these things. Financially, this is about as “high tech” as I can go, and for those in the know, this ain’t nuthin’. But I absolutely, positively cannot move on to IVF, so I’m going to give this route a try for a while: minimal stim during follicular phase with femara, u/s to track follicular growth, then hcg trigger before insem.
Thing is, many ob-gyns can handle this level of treatment. And I’m about 95% sure that the costs would be less through an ob-gyn than through an RE. It seems like each and everything that goes through an RE’s office gets stamped “Infertility”, which is an automatic denial by most insurance companies, including my own. But ob-gyns tend to code things based on your underlying problems, which in my case is “PCOS”, which is more likely to be at least partially covered by insurance.
I just don’t know. Some days I just want to throw in the towel and say fuck it, I’m done. Then that insidious whisper always starts. “Don’t give up yet, this next cycle might be the one. C’mon, you know you wanna try again.” I swear, being infertile is like doing drugs: you start off just wanting a quick “fix”. But that one fix isn’t enough, and things get more complicated and expensive. Then one day, you discover that you’re addicted, and can’t figure out how to stop.
Maybe I’ll end up on a street corner somewhere, waving at passing cars and yelling out, “I’ll give you head for IVF money!”
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Have I mentioned that I'm a nerd?
I saw this, and almost spewed coffee through my nose at work this morning. And believe me, feeling hot coffee tickling at your sinus passages is nothing to sneeze at! Anyway, here's what really happened after the Death Star blew up.
Monday, April 16, 2007
People can be really stupid
I've been back from my vacation for a couple of weeks now, and I'm finally rested up enough to start venting online again. Umm, I mean, writing. I promise I'll do the whole boring, "and this is a picture of Sir Wally Peniston's castle" thing soon, but I haven't finished cataloging my photos yet.
Anyway, I was catching up on Dos Mamas blog, and a comment by one of her readers reminded me of an incident from about 8-9 months ago. My female friends, most of whom have children, all get together on a semi-regular basis for what we call "Girls' Night In". One person is the hostess, and we all hang out at their place once the kiddies are in bed.
As usually happens, someone mentioned that an acquaintance was pregnant. It reminded me that earlier that day, one of my online gal-pals had just discovered she was pregnant with triplets. So, feeling all happy for my online friend, I told my real-life friends about her struggle with infertility, and how she'd done IVF with donor sperm, and was now going to be the mama of three little ones.
Most of my girlfriends had positive reactions. One, however, said one of the most stupid things I've ever heard. She actually said, "Eww, donor sperm! I just couldn't do that. I mean, I'd rather go pick up a guy at a bar; at least then I'd know he was really cute, you know?"
I stared at her in disbelief. How could an educated woman in her 30s actually think that trolling for a random stranger was a better reproductive choice than using donor sperm? Once I could actually speak again, I retorted, "Yeah, pick up a guy at a bar and have unprotected sex with him to try to get pregnant. I don't think so. I'd rather use donor sperm, which has been tested for STDs, quarantined for 6 months, then tested again. That's just a little safer, don't you think?"
Maybe my memory is faulty, but I'm pretty sure there was an uncomfortable silence for a moment. But I remember the evening as being fun, so somebody probably broke the tension by doing something sophisticated, like burping or farting.
Anyway, I was catching up on Dos Mamas blog, and a comment by one of her readers reminded me of an incident from about 8-9 months ago. My female friends, most of whom have children, all get together on a semi-regular basis for what we call "Girls' Night In". One person is the hostess, and we all hang out at their place once the kiddies are in bed.
As usually happens, someone mentioned that an acquaintance was pregnant. It reminded me that earlier that day, one of my online gal-pals had just discovered she was pregnant with triplets. So, feeling all happy for my online friend, I told my real-life friends about her struggle with infertility, and how she'd done IVF with donor sperm, and was now going to be the mama of three little ones.
Most of my girlfriends had positive reactions. One, however, said one of the most stupid things I've ever heard. She actually said, "Eww, donor sperm! I just couldn't do that. I mean, I'd rather go pick up a guy at a bar; at least then I'd know he was really cute, you know?"
I stared at her in disbelief. How could an educated woman in her 30s actually think that trolling for a random stranger was a better reproductive choice than using donor sperm? Once I could actually speak again, I retorted, "Yeah, pick up a guy at a bar and have unprotected sex with him to try to get pregnant. I don't think so. I'd rather use donor sperm, which has been tested for STDs, quarantined for 6 months, then tested again. That's just a little safer, don't you think?"
Maybe my memory is faulty, but I'm pretty sure there was an uncomfortable silence for a moment. But I remember the evening as being fun, so somebody probably broke the tension by doing something sophisticated, like burping or farting.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Instantaneous conception, anyone?
I have a not-so-guilty, not-so-secret pleasure, which is reading romance novels. No matter what else I'm reading, whether it's sci-fi, fantasy, history, or medical, there's always a romance novel in the "reading in progress" stack, too.
I've been hooked on them since I was a pre-teen; back then, much of my time was spent either in the hospital or at home, waiting to see if the latest operation work and if I would be able to walk again. So there was a LOT of spare time to fill. After watching hours of TV and seeing just about every Frankie/Annette & Elvis movie ever made (not a bad thing, mind you, but still... I occasionally have the theme song to "Beach Blanket Bingo" rolling through my head), I started looking for other things to do. My mom read romances, and they were always around, so one day I picked one up and started reading it... and that was that.
By the way, although I don't remember the author or title, I still vividly remember other details about my first romance novel. The cover art had a woman and man sensuously lounging on a white fur rug. The male lead was a Viking warrior, and the female lead was his captured Briton/Christian slave. Yeah, I can't remember my new license plate number, but I can remember that. Oh, and I still remember the prologue to "The Canterbury Tales", and in Middle English to boot!
Where was I? Oh yeah, romances. These days I really like the supernatural/paranormal romance genre: time travel, magic, werewolves, vampires, psi-abilities, etc. It's like I get to have a fantasy novel AND a romance, all wrapped up in one neat package! But there's one thing that always makes me roll my eyes about them. In the ones where one of the characters have some sort of super/hyper senses, there's one tragic love-scene faux pas that almost every author makes:
Heaving, moaning, groaning, sweating, thrusting, etc. Moment of climax, which of course happens simultaneously (hah!). The couple rests, happy in the afterglow. Then five minutes later, either he or she (whichever one is "enhanced") says something to the effect of, "We've just made a baby. I can sense the spark of new life in you/me," or something goofy like that.
Apparently werewolf/vampire/sorceror sperm are so great, that they can go from ejaculate to full fertilization in 5 minutes. All I want to know is, where I can find some super-sperm like that?!?
I've been hooked on them since I was a pre-teen; back then, much of my time was spent either in the hospital or at home, waiting to see if the latest operation work and if I would be able to walk again. So there was a LOT of spare time to fill. After watching hours of TV and seeing just about every Frankie/Annette & Elvis movie ever made (not a bad thing, mind you, but still... I occasionally have the theme song to "Beach Blanket Bingo" rolling through my head), I started looking for other things to do. My mom read romances, and they were always around, so one day I picked one up and started reading it... and that was that.
By the way, although I don't remember the author or title, I still vividly remember other details about my first romance novel. The cover art had a woman and man sensuously lounging on a white fur rug. The male lead was a Viking warrior, and the female lead was his captured Briton/Christian slave. Yeah, I can't remember my new license plate number, but I can remember that. Oh, and I still remember the prologue to "The Canterbury Tales", and in Middle English to boot!
Where was I? Oh yeah, romances. These days I really like the supernatural/paranormal romance genre: time travel, magic, werewolves, vampires, psi-abilities, etc. It's like I get to have a fantasy novel AND a romance, all wrapped up in one neat package! But there's one thing that always makes me roll my eyes about them. In the ones where one of the characters have some sort of super/hyper senses, there's one tragic love-scene faux pas that almost every author makes:
Heaving, moaning, groaning, sweating, thrusting, etc. Moment of climax, which of course happens simultaneously (hah!). The couple rests, happy in the afterglow. Then five minutes later, either he or she (whichever one is "enhanced") says something to the effect of, "We've just made a baby. I can sense the spark of new life in you/me," or something goofy like that.
Apparently werewolf/vampire/sorceror sperm are so great, that they can go from ejaculate to full fertilization in 5 minutes. All I want to know is, where I can find some super-sperm like that?!?
Monday, March 12, 2007
Bitter Bettys Abound!
A couple of days ago, two anonymous persons left comments on one of my previous blogs regarding TTC. The comments were extremely negative, and obviously the result of them not actually reading my post. To summarize my post:
1) I'm just not as bitter as some others TTC.
2) You can be bitter, and I'll just respectfully ignore it when that happens from now on.
3) Don't bitch at me because I'm not bitter.
4) I loved "Spamalot".
Okay, so "Spamalot" wasn't referenced in the comments, but it WAS a part of the post. Anyway, I fail to see how anything in my post came across as me:
1) Thinking that being positive will get me pregnant--> No, I'm fully aware that it takes sperm and egg, thank you. A good RE doesn't hurt, either.
2) Being unsupportive--> With the exception of the one post about a month ago where I stated my opinion, I dare anyone to point to a post where I belitted anyone on those BBs.
3) Not having any pain associated with IF--> I refuse to play the "Pain Game". I have had pain, have pain, and will have pain, over my IF issues. But it is my pain, and I choose not to wear it on my sleeve.
And to close out my thoughtful, mature, and non-vulgar post, I would like to add that if you have something to say to me, but don't have the courage to sign your name or to engage in discourse rather than just flaming me, then fuck you.
1) I'm just not as bitter as some others TTC.
2) You can be bitter, and I'll just respectfully ignore it when that happens from now on.
3) Don't bitch at me because I'm not bitter.
4) I loved "Spamalot".
Okay, so "Spamalot" wasn't referenced in the comments, but it WAS a part of the post. Anyway, I fail to see how anything in my post came across as me:
1) Thinking that being positive will get me pregnant--> No, I'm fully aware that it takes sperm and egg, thank you. A good RE doesn't hurt, either.
2) Being unsupportive--> With the exception of the one post about a month ago where I stated my opinion, I dare anyone to point to a post where I belitted anyone on those BBs.
3) Not having any pain associated with IF--> I refuse to play the "Pain Game". I have had pain, have pain, and will have pain, over my IF issues. But it is my pain, and I choose not to wear it on my sleeve.
And to close out my thoughtful, mature, and non-vulgar post, I would like to add that if you have something to say to me, but don't have the courage to sign your name or to engage in discourse rather than just flaming me, then fuck you.
Thursday, March 08, 2007
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