Sunday, January 20, 2008

Sunday sunday - warning, long post

I'm feeling v Sunday-ish. Outside it's grey and murky. Inside, i'm surrounded by this week's drying washing and piles of cookery books.

Friday's hysterosc.opy was uneventful. We were up at (still dark) 6.15am, out the house at 6.45am and at the clinic at 6.55am. There were already 2 other couples looking a bit jet lagged in the waiting room, 1 couple quizzing a nurse in reception about FET's. Another pair arrived before the nurses had even started showing up. I got the feeling we wouldn't be on any time soon.

This clinic so winds me up! After 35ish minutes sitting waiting I went into reception to ask what was going on. The chippy antipodean receptionist gave me short shrift and said we'd be called in about 10 mins. A couple of mins later, the theatre nurse appeared and called my name but at the same time gesturing to me that it wasn't my turn. Odd. Turned out one of the other girls had the same name as me. She was in to have a cyst removed, so lucky that got sorted.

When it was my turn. We went into the reception to sign some forms and Mr G was sent off to occupy himself for a couple of hours. (I think he was quite excited about his West End breakfast).

I was taken downstairs to the nurses locker room. A really bare room with cubby holes, a few hangers and lino floor. I was told to put on the (disposable) v see through surgical gown and a Mar.ks and S.pencer man's blue towelling dressing gown. I was given blue plastic bags for my feet and a surgical hat.

I was then led into a second room in which there were 6 trolleys lined up. On the first two were the girls who'd had egg collection. One was just waking. The other was lying with an oxygen mask over her face. Clutching my handbag, I was told to sit on a chair and wait. I'd passed my name twin walking into the theatre room. After not too long, they wheeled her back in on her trolley and they came for me. I was asked my name, told to put my hat on and get on the trolley. I had a joke with the anaesthetist whilst it shoved the iv into my arm and within minutes I was gone.

Next thing, i was waking up under the mask next to my name twin. I asked to take it off and slept some more. Then sat up for a polystyrene cup of tea and 2 digestive biscuits. I had a nice chat to her (also same age as me) and to the last trolley dolly - a girl who'd travelled miles - from S Wales - to the clinic.

Now here's the thing. This clinic takes (what i suspect must be) millions of pounds and they treat women like pieces of meat. Our partners/hubbies are pushed out the door and not there to support us pre and post op and really not made to feel part of the process at all. I lay on my trolley wondering why we put up with this treatment. Answer is...we're desperate and this clinic has the best scores in the whole of the UK.

Anyway - as i could have told them, my uteRus is immaculate. No polyps, no gunk and no stagnant water in me tubes. The previous dilation is still holding so no need to stretch me and apart from my cavity being only 7cm (av is apparently 8cm) nothing much to report.

Went home and lay listlessly - sleeping and grazing for the rest of Friday. How much do i hope my FSH behaves!
A few other news items. Went to my best friend's 40th last night. It was a surprise for her and her sis-in-law arranged by their hubbies. Mr G and i were off the booze. Felt a bit self-conscious refusing champagne. No one mentioned our abstinence - not the place for a big IF discussion but it sat elephant like in the corner. It was interesting watching them all get more and more drunk. Felt pleased (and slightly smug) we'd managed to stay off the booze.

Met a girl at the party who had (aged 42) her son at the clinic we've just gone to. She's a huge fan of the Doc there and knows he's the best in town. She was v v supportive. She's been unable to do it again and has decided to give up. She had also spoken the to the same US doc we spoke to. He's obviously v good at his own publicity.
Finally - Mistresses. New tv drama with 4 late 30 something girls. Two single - one enjoying it hugely and with lots of partners, another a Dr and mistress to a man (one of her patients) who'd just died, a third widowed in 9/11 and bringing up 2 girls and the last one, in her first year of marriage and trying for a baby for a year or so.

(Not terribly believably) her hubbie's the one reading the Fertility books and only interested in sha*gging at fertile times. She- fed up with BMS has an office sh*g with a workmate. Off she and her hubbie trot for a sper.m test and (surprise, surprise) he has v few sper.m. It's ICSI for them. He shuts down and won't talk. She goes back to the workmate. What next? PG by the workmate? That would seem obvious. What i'm dreading is a first time successful round of ICSI like in Brothers and Sisters. More misleading coverage of a couple having to do ART and succeeding instantly. No representation of the extended misery repeated cycles cause. I know it's only tv and it has to be watchable but it'd be nice for the fertiles to get a window into our world.

Interestingly, my fertile friends were discussing the plot at the party last night with no irony at all for Mr G and me - the living, breathing poster IF boy and girl in their midst.

Anyway, time to plan next week's food for my healthy eater client.

BTW - nothing at all from the magazine!! How rude!! I'm not bothered about the job but becoming angry that they've just left me - and I suppose one other candidate - hanging all this time! After all that work!! Outrageous!


My Reality said...

I am glad all is clear with the ute.

Carrie said...

The clininc souhds AWFUL! I can guess which one it is due to the stats but to treat the woman like this. That surely could be avoided.
I hate the idea of a row of trolleys. Yuck, it's all bad enough with out adding lack of privacy to the list. I am glad everything is well with you though.

As for the TV, I'm with you, anything but a quick fix please. There is so much ignorance already. After my last miscarriage my midwife asked if this meant another trip to the ACU. Another trip!! And she's a midwife. Then again, the reality is so awful it won't make good tv. Who would want to watch this?

It is very rude of the magazine. No manners at all.

Betty M said...

I don't know why people put up with that clinic. Given the amount of money they take (and yes the big doc is this country's wealthiest doc) you would have thought some of it would go on a bit of privacy for patients like their own changing space, better timekeeping and space for partners to be involved.

On the tv thing if they dont just bypass the assisted conception entirely for the pg by sleazy office bloke I bet they will have very little of the reality of treatment which, even if you are like me and do get lucky first time on the nhs no less (my problems came later discounting the years of if clearly), is traumatising but very boring to watch.

I would ring the magazine for feedback and shame them into a response. Such rudeness deserves making them squirm.

Pamela Jeanne said...

It's a small consolation, I'm sure, but the clinics and hospitals here in California are not much better at how they treat infertility patients ... and no amount of high fees seems to make a difference as the demand for services always seems to be at peak.

Glad your ute checked out. I always found it ironic that I'd have to go through a weird diagnostic just to be told it's all clear. Uh. thanks, I think.

As for your night out with your fertile friends discussing the IF plot -- "no irony at all for Mr G and me - the living, breathing poster IF boy and girl in their midst." Doesn't it just blow your mind sometimes how oblivious fertile people can be.

Finally, thanks very much for your sweet comment. I'd rather hang out with you and my IF pals any day of the week!