Why didn't anyone tell me how much it was going to hurt?
By the time I got to the doctor's office yesterday for my egg retrieval, my ovaries were so large and putting so much pressure on my abdomen that I couldn't sit comfortably. When I went back for a pre-retrieval ultrasound, they were so large they wouldn't fit onto the screen. The Slavic tech (my doc hires the weirdest folks) said "I veel very sorry for the vone who had to measure all you vollicles." Yeah, but no one's feeling sorry for me for carrying them around!
They took me back to an area of the office I hadn't been to before, and it suddenly hit me (as I saw everyone walking around in those paper suits you usually only see in movies) SHIT! I'm getting surgery! They shoved me into a room, told me to take off all my clothes except my bra and my socks (sheesh) and put little blue booties on my feet and a puffy marshmallow hat to cover my hair, and a large paper dress to put on (kudos to them for actually having one large enough to cover my big old body).
There was much ado about rooms, so they sat me down in one with a blanket and told me to wait. I tried to pray, to ask for peace, but I was scared to death and found it hard to find any sort of spiritual presence in that place. It was blue and cold, and I felt very alone. Off in the distance, I heard a male voice say "We got 14!" and a woman exclaiming in delight.
Eventually, someone came in to put in an IV, but she was totally incompetent and just succeeded in hurting me repeatedly. She finally gave up in disgust and said the anesthesiologist would have to do it. My hand hurt for a long time after she left, and it distracted me for a bit.
Finally, they took me into the right room, and the anesthesiologist was there (she'd called me the night before and told me not to eat or drink anything after midnight--not even chewing gum! I was like, who eats chewing gum after midnight?). She got the IV in and soon enough the cool fluid crept into my veins. There was much fussing about positioning me, and they strapped my legs down, and laid me back and I was gone.
After wild dreams I can't remember, a voice told me to wake up. I remember sliding off the seat, strong arms guiding me, and they led me to a bed next door. I then heard someone say, "How many did we get? 35" and I said, "Did they say 35?" I drifted for a minute or two until I became aware of the stabbing pain in my abdomen.
I told the nurse and she came back with a script for Tylenol 3. Normally, as a recovering person, I would have turned it down, but the pain was so excruciating I didn't. A little while later, they told me to change, and that they'd call my husband back to get me. I got dressed and waited.
My husband was so stressed that my best friend came out to be with him while I was in surgery. Thank god she was there, because I couldn't comfort him in his worry. All I could do was try to swallow my own fear. Apparently, hunger got the best of them and they were just returning from eating when I got out. For a few minutes, I sat in the lobby, feeling very sorry for myself. They showed up before it could get too bad.
The drive home was awful. We live about 40 minutes from the clinic, and every bump in the road was agony. Once home, my husband filled the script and after taking a pill I managed to fall asleep for a few hours--after vomiting, or attempting to, several times.
By the late afternoon, I was able to get downstairs. I took the Tylenol 3 throughout the day, watched TV and drifted. By 11, I was able to go up to bed.
This morning, I woke up feeling much better. The pressure is less, although I still feel it, and the pain and cramping much better. I will hopefully be able to get the Tylenol 3 out of the house by tomorrow (but I'm reluctant to let it go yet today).
I feel ok, now, about not doing the embryo transfer later this week. Truthfully, I am not a welcoming home to an embryo right now. I am full of pain and uncomfortable. I'm also still on the verge of OHSS, and OHSS gets worse if you're pregnant. I will have a chance to heal, relax, and by my next cycle create a safe and loving home for my little embryos.
And I have a lot of them. 35 eggs were collected (holy fucking shit), 27 were good, and 17 fertilized. I'm hoping, some time soon, to feel like this was worth it. Because in all honesty, right now, I can't imagine doing it again. My hat is off to those women who've gone through multiple IVF attempts. You are all stronger than I am.
