Well, I’m at work two days past retrieval, which I’m considering a win given the enormous output of my overachieving ovum. I am not necessarily feeling super awesome, but the idea of staying home in bed another day was too much to handle, so I prioritized freedom over pain pills, for now anyway.
I thought I’d set down a more complete account of the last few days, since all of my previous reports were done via phone while on some kind of medication or another. I might want a less altered view of things some day, right?
Monday and Tuesday I was starting to feel the bulk of my lady bits, but was honestly sort of shocked at how fine I felt. This changed significantly on Wednesday morning. The double lup.ron trigger (of note, I gave #2 to myself in my office and had to use my standing desk shelf to depress the plunger, since a trigger in the back upper arm is a logistical nightmare when one is doing it to oneself) was clearly doing its job. In addition to feeling full to the brim with eggs, I am notoriously cranky when I can’t eat my usual breakfast and drink a very large glass of water in the morning – neither of which I was allowed to do. La ate her breakfast in secret so I wouldn’t loose my hormones all over her, but I was a cranky, egg filled monster anyway.
Mid-morning is the quietest time at the clinic, I think. The rush of monitoring is over and its just us egg retrieval girls hanging out. La and I waited to be called back, I was given a wrist band with my own name and date of birth, as well as BFF’s (despite the fact that BFF had done his duty hours ago on the way into work) This, however, seemed to be only a heterosexist formality, since every.single.person treated La like what she is – my most special spousal boo. It was nice to feel – finally – like we are too far into this thing for the ‘fraud’ to matter. Because there is absolutely no one else I would have wanted there.
We were called back into a room, where I took off my yoga pants and sweater, and waited on a hospital bed made for someone approximately 1/4 of my size (I’m not kidding, the bed was probably a full foot shorter than me!) for the anesthesiologist to come in. He was weird, and maybe creepy, and definitely did not have good bedside manner. But he did get me out of the mini-bed and take me into the procedure room, where a gaggle of nurses stood around. They strapped me in (that bed could definitely be a thing of nightmares under the right – wrong – circumstances) and shoved a needle in my wrist (thanks to my notoriously hard-to-find veins) and waited awkwardly for the doctor, who finally arrived and commented on my orange socks.
The thing I kept thinking was how surreal it all was . . .that this was certainly not how I would have ever anticipated creating a baby. I wasn’t sad about it, just that I could never have foreseen sitting in a chair, about to go under anesthesia, as a part of the process to making a baby. I also got kind of scared about the anesthesia at that point, because surgery is no joke. But, too late Lyons. And then I was out.
I think I had an awesome dream but it was over abruptly and I was being led out of the room and into the recovery area and I felt like shit. I mean, writhing in pain, that kind of shit. Some of the nurses seemed to be a little disbelieving of my pain, and La gave them appropriately dirty looks. But then in came the best nurse ever, telling me I was champ and that of course I was in pain – did I hear how many eggs they got? 60! They got 60! And then she put some phenteno.yl in my IV line and life got a lot better pretty quickly.
The embryologist came in the clarify that actually, they got 53. And that it looked like around 30 of them were mature. In any case, “you’re making me work today!’ I couldn’t quite compute anything, but I knew that the pain I was in was legit. It was a whole-lot-of-eggs legit.
The pain meds kicked in, I regained some consciousness, and best nurse ever gave me my post op instructions. Due to the huge amount of eggs, I was prescribed ganirel.ix for the next five days, along with cabergoline to shut my system down. They also upped the ante and gave me a script for perco.set instead of the tylenol with code.ine I already had in my baby box. I was assured I would be in pain for a while, and that it would likely get better and then get worse.
Off to home where my buddy was waiting with fancy raman and gatorade and crackers. La had to go teach, so Buddy stayed with me and took care of the pups. I was mostly in a perco.set haze for the day, but did rouse myself to eat some curly fries that evening. Yesterday was about the same, with perhaps a few more hours tacked onto the conscious side of things. And, of course, there was the fabulous call letting us know that 21 of those eggs fertilized. Nurse T called as well, in part to check on me, and in part to remind me that ‘not all of them will make it’ to day 5 which, I KNOW, but it felt a little debbie downer, you know? I mean, we can only send 8 out for biopsy, so having more than that would really just be more difficult. But I’m gonna go ahead and assume my hormones were maybe getting the most of me.
Today, I woke up feeling a bit better. Its almost 4pm now and I’m feeling real done. The pain is pretty tolerable at this point, but the bloating and the pressure that comes with it is unbearable. I imagine it will be a few days before I’m in the clear. I’m excited to be able to pee without feeling like my abdomen is going to explode though. Its all relative.