Archive for September, 2010

Gimme a Break

You know it had to happen. I was heading toward a breaking point. And here we are.

Since my last post, I was diagnosed with you-could-have temopral arteritis. This from my eye doctor because I get a spot headache in my left temple. Why? Why can’t I just go to an eye doctor because my contacts don’t feel right, or go to a PT to work on my range of motion? Why do I have to come home with a litany of diagnoses?

It must be my high cholesterol. Seriously. My no-food diet consists of air and now I somehow have high cholesterol and high glucose? I did add more meat and eggs to my diet ’cause I was told a lot that I needed more protein to get pregnant. So now I have to cut that out of my diet too?

As you can see, I have a lot of questions. And so. I need a fucking break! Supposedly there’s a kiddo soul out there waiting to come through me to this world. And it’s not the kiddo’s fault that I’m catching supposed health issues in my teeth like bugs by a grinning asshole on a bicycle. But I can’t do this TTC thing one more month with all of this crap in my head (I swear it probably is just all in my head, but I’m not putting it there damn-it! and I’m not even asking for it.) So we all stand still while I barrel toward to 35 (69 days and counting).

Do you want to know what’s particularly frustrating about this business? I came to the decision to take a break over Yom Kippur. I was so very very sick with the latest bug, and I couldn’t go to synagogue. So under many blankets, I sat on the couch and read inspirational stories and articles about Yom Kippur. From all that learning and subsequent soul searching, I came to a place of acceptance. It’s okay to take a cycle or two off. I’m still young and I’m healthy. But you see, there’s the rub. It’s to the point now that I’m afraid to go to the grocery store because the cashier might tell me I have gangrene.

Whatever. My poor K is dealing with a herniated disc. How’s that for a kick in the spine? Sure, we’ll let you live through a near-death experience, but here… have a nice plate of consequence (or maybe it’s subsequence). WE’VE HAD ENOUGH!!! Hear me universe?

And anyway, by taking a couple cycles off, I can guarantee myself plenty o’ access to the lovable Xanax as I fly home for my dad’s unveiling. Gee, there really is a silver lining.

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Shock & Awe

Thus I am renaming these 10 days between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur (for you non-Jewy folk: this period is otherwise called “The Days of Awe”).

For the sake of a highly incongruous analogy, let’s say I’m Fallujah. And let’s say that the U.S. in this scenario is medical knowledge. The bombs? Well, first I got hit with an x-ray report announcing the early arrival of osteoarthritis (I’ve always been very advanced for my age). After that came the blitz of most-likely-fibromyalgia and probably-endometriosis. The latter blasted with a particularly large aftershock because of the following: 1) the only way to confirm its presence is through exploratory surgery and 2) that surgery is only done laparoscopically. So? So, a few years ago I had a laparoscopic appendectomy that left me with two infected wound sites and five weeks on my back. K had to keep the sites open and constantly change out the oozy green packing (sorry!) to the sound of my moans and whimpering. My mom even had to fly out to help. I don’t like the idea of going back in the same way. The final but less dramatic assault has come via ersatz diplomatic efforts. In order to lessen a crazy wicked pain I’ve been getting in my left temple for months, I decided to try contact lenses (imagining my glasses have been adding pressure to an inflamed area). And wouldn’t you know it? I can’t see a word I’m typing right now! (It’s a really good thing I trust my typing skills and the dotted red spell-check line.)

This brings us to today, the day before Yom Kippur begins. Fellujah has been bombed into submission. I yield to the higher power. You wanna cut me? Cut me. You want me to see a rheumatologist? Sign me up. Whatever you do, please don’t invade and occupy.

Born of Lies

My future child, that is.

Today is E2’s birthday. We picked him up for today’s insemination (we no longer accept post-biking sperm) and presented him with a little gift once we got back to our place. He was so surprised and seemed to like it. Then we were chatting, and it came up how there was one day during the previous round’s insemination when we had escorted my mom to a nearby cafe for the duration (high tea for The Womb Mum). Then I said to K, “Hey, I don’t think I even wrote about that yet!” At this point the kitchen fell silent, and K did her best to defuse my comment by saying, “Yeah, Malka likes to write to her sisters to keep them updated.” Then E2 said, “Gee, I thought you were going to say that you write a blog about all this.” And that’s when I went flush. “No, no. I’d never do that.” I slipped, and I fell into my own big, fat, stinky lie.

As we waited in our room for E2 to do his thing and bring out the goods, I tortured myself about having lied. I’m a terrible person, I said. (K just smiled and told me she loves the way I say, “terrible.”) He’s going to find out and know that I lied to him. And he’ll read all those mean things I said early on about him not calling back quick enough to keep me from freaking out. K saw my spiraling and tried her best to convince me that it was a small fib. But as she knows, I hate lying. I hate it worse that I walked myself into it.

E2 is such a great guy. So much greater than we realized when we picked him to be our donor. The more we get to know him, the more I’m sad that we’ll have to not see him for at least 18 years. I know I could go delete those old posts I wrote when I didn’t really know him and couldn’t imagine that I could trust a complete stranger so intimately. But that wouldn’t undo the lie. Have I tainted the whole thing? Will E2 learn of this blog and hate me? Will the child born of this lie grow up to be a compulsive liar or car thief?

These are the questions on which I get to ruminate while not falling asleep tonight.

(Oh, and happy new year to all my Jewey blog followers. May our lord find it in his infinite wisdom to forgive me my lie and still give me an honest baby.)


(Disclaimer: No men were harmed in the making of this blog.)

The Family

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