Monday, December 22, 2008

Egg retrieval went like "cluckwork."*




(Couldn't pass up using this photo a second time!)

I not only feel like a science experiment, but in actuality, I am. Let's face it, that IS what this whole IVF thing is - an imperfect crap shoot - tapping our hopes that we are in the statistical SUCCESS category. So far so good: Dr Li harvested 23 eggs this morning and I was informed I didn't cough once. Whuhoo!

See, I was extra worried about ruining it all by coughing during the procedure b/c upon going to bed last night (after 12:00 AM... I wanted to milk my cough syrup/fluid consumption up until the last minute) in what I am now acknowledging is a mattress heavily laden with years of sloughed dead skin cells by strangers (what did I expect, renting a furnished apartment?!), the coughing spasms commenced so heavily, so gut-wrenchingly hard, I staggered my way to the bathroom sink, as I braced myself over it, I felt like my eye-balls were gonna pop out. Seriously.

Suddenly, I found myself vomiting. It was crazy. Then I did it another two times as the next waves of racking coughs overcame me - which was 2 seconds later due to its relentless-iosity. Who knew that happens? Well, apparently Dan did. Awakened, he wasn't surprised by the lovely noises I was generating as he's had a similar experience from coughing. While it was convenient I was already hovering over the sink, it was the bathroom sink that barely drains. Oh, and we had beef stew for dinner. Seriously. So I almost vomited again while I cleaned up my own vomit. But that wasn't even the really fucked up part. The really fucked up part was that I wasn't supposed to have anything to eat or drink since I had waited to go to bed after 12:00!!!

Aw, damn it to hell. I rebelled: Brushed by teeth, and took a dinky sip of water (it was only 12:30 by this point) and migrated to the living room to sleep on the leather sofa. Upon waking up all throughout the night, I'd check the time and see it was only, 2, 3, 4, etc. and instead of thinking what should be a normal thought: Great, I still have X hours of sleep - I can catch up! No, my thought was: DAMN, I need to drag my ass back to the couch and try to get more sleep - a failing proposition. Finally at around 5:00 AM, after my tactic of barely sucking, then spitting out practically fresh lozenges weren't doing the trick anymore, I took a steaming hot shower hoping to loosen up the crap in my lungs. Seemed to be the key. I went back to the couch and fell asleep sitting totally upright a la the elephant man. Woke up to the alarm (while in the midst of the best slumber I've experienced in weeks - figures) slumped over at the waist.

We scuttled off to have me harvested. While laying there on the stirrup table, playing my usual game o' testing my Chinese knowledge by "eavesdropping" on the nurses, the thing that caused me anxiety wasn't the actual procedure; I was anxious to get my anesthesia so I could finally get some good rest!

Woke up nicely without that crappy groggy feeling. So nicely, in fact, I was able to utilize some of my Chinese to speak with the nurses. Minimal brain damage: √. Dan performed his part swimmingly (ugh, pun intended) and we were good to go.

As we rode home in the taxi, Dan and I looked into each others' eyes and said, "I love you." Sooo we weren't able to conceive a baby in glowing candle light, staring connectedly into each others' eyes while Barry White was crooning in the background as the rose pedals stuck to our backs. We covered that base in the taxi ride home today. 8 years of marriage... same dif.

*Thanks for checking in on us and the line, Drew.

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