Friday, 27 September 2013

Same road, different bend

It's been one heck of a week; I've been a crappy blogger and a crappier commenter throughout my participation in September's ICLW. I tried to keep up and I did often read, in the flash of an eye; but, one month into my new job as things really heat up with the workload and several new high-needs clients, as well as prepping for and attending what was intended to be our final pre-IVF consult, commenting got the better of me.

Yes, I did say was intended. We walked into that room yesterday with our carefully cultivated, fragile hope, ready to be told the date for our mandatory information evening, sometime in mid-October, and be given instructions on who to call with what in order to announce the start of my cycle (in late October) - the one that would finally be a realistic shot at a baby. Our IVF cycle.

Turns out, there's yet another twist in this long and winding road. In fact, it seems to wind ever onward.

It's not that any of our test results were anything other than stellar; we're still very much 'unexplained' in terms of our inability to conceive a healthy pregnancy. Our test results look great. No, it's my medical history, ancient at that, that's the snag this time.

If you've been reading this blog for a while, you might know that I'm a cancer survivor. Throughout my adolescence I was treated for a rare form of bone cancer, which recurred several times in my lungs until I was given a terminal prognosis, after which I...sort of just kept on living, really. I'm a freak of nature. A medical miracle. It's not something I dwell on a lot these days, simply because it never defined me and doesn't much effect me now. Or so I assumed.

What it does apparently mean is that my adult eggs, even all these years later, may be at a higher-than-normal risk of susceptibility the the tiniest viruses that might be present in normal laboratory conditions. There are likely only two IVF labs in the country, so we were told, that will deal with them. We're going to be referred again. Which may mean another, yet longer wait, but will certainly mean all the pre-IVF tests we've already completed will have to be redone at the new laboratory, since according to our current doctor each likes to have its own baseline. And because the labs are so specialised, there's a good chance that the wait for the procedure will be that much longer.

They've done one last slew of bloodwork yesterday, the results of which should be available in a few weeks. If these prove that my system has in fact recovered from its years of chemotherapy and invasive surgeries, there might still be a chance that we can stay at our current clinic.

Of course this begs the question (the first on our lips, leaving the office), WHY DIDN'T THEY THINK OF THIS BEFORE? Have they not actually read my charts? My cancer history is not a secret, and should be common knowledge among my care providers.

But what's done is done, the time for those questions to have any relevance is past. Yes, the road winds ever on. And so we wait. And wonder.  

Will we ever reach the end? When will it be our turn?

20 comments:

  1. Oh, my gosh. Like you said, it's not like this was a new secret that was just revealed to your clinic. Fingers crossed that this is a SHORT bend in the road.

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    1. Thank you Brianna; I certainly hope you're right, and we'll clear this bend sooner than anticipated!

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  2. Oh my Gosh.... I am so so so sorry Sadie, I just can't believe they are only telling you this now. You're right, I think they don't look at our charts until the last second.

    Your turn is coming. I just know it. I know it probably doesn't feel that way now, but you are such a fighter, I know you be blessed with a baby abd hopefully soon

    I am sending you a big hug

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    1. It seems insance sometimes the way they go about things...I don't like to think about it too much, when you consider what vitally important stuff we're putting in their hands!

      So I won't, and instead hold on to your lovely comment and the hug, which is certainly welcome right now. Thanks you friend :)

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  3. Wow. You are amazing! So strong with everything thrown your way. Your time is coming. You deserve it.

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    1. Thank you for your kind words. One day at a time; that's what I've got right now to keep me going.

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  4. Ah man, that sucks so bad :( I am so sorry. I'm really hoping that the next step, the next lab, is it.

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    1. Me too! We've had enough of this suckitude, and are ready for some good news for a change!

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  5. Wow Sadie, I am so sorry. I have been reading your blog for awhile, but I actually did not know that about you being a cancer survivor. What an incredible story! Like you, I feel baffled as to why the clinic did not tell you on day one this would be an issue and you'd need to go to a special facility. You are handling with grace, as always, but I know this must be a huge frustration. I'm glad at least that your lab reports were all good. I'll be hoping you get some good news soon!

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    1. Like I said, it's not something I talk about a lot, (though if you met me in person it might do so more naturally, just because of my physical realities). I'm quite lucky I think in that they've ruled out any relationship between my cancer history and reproductive challenges (though I'm also not sure that the medical establishment knows as much about this stuff as they should, and I think there is not much communication between various specialities).

      Your support means a lot; and I hope that good news is on its way!

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  6. That is so unbelievably frustrating. I'm so sorry. I hope that the referral happens very quickly and you don't have to wait so long.

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    1. Frustrating indeed. It just feels like one hurdle after the other, and we'll never get to our actualy IVF cycle. But thank you for your commiserations, and for hoping along with me that that *won't* be the case.

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  7. Well, crap. You guys were so close! I hope the wait isn't too much longer and that you're soon on the IVF expressway!

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    1. Yep, totally craptastic. We're at least developing quite some talents with waiting I guess...

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  8. Sadie, I'm so sorry you're facing yet another delay. I can't imagine how frustrated and impatient you are growing. Next month I'll be starting my 1st round of Clomid and I'm so scared that this is the start to a very long journey of fertility treatments.

    Also I know someone who had bone cancer during childhood. She's been told her eggs are not viable due to the years of treatment. She just assumed her whole life that she would never have children but now she's in the process of IVF (with donor eggs). It took her forever to get to this point but she did get everything figured out eventually and doctors are very optimistic.

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    1. Catherine, I'm sorry that you've finally had to start this journey of fertility treatment - I feel like us babyloss mamas deserve a free pass, and it seems SO unfair that after losing our precious children we have to face the agony of ttc for months on end. For what it's worth, I REALLY hope your treatment journey will be a short and sweet one, and the clomid does the trick for you right out of the gate.

      And thank you so much for sharing your friend's story. There aren't that many of us out there (simply because the disease is rare, and the prognosis was not very high in my generation though they're making leaps and bounds now)...But it's always so nice - and so reassuring - to hear about others with the same complicated medical history as me, and who are living their lives fully and happily. I hope your friend's IVF process is more uneventful than ours, and that the doctor's optimism is rewarded very soon!

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  9. Oh, I'm so sorry to read this. I am familiar with that feeling of hoping that we are moving forward, only to get another setback, need to wait for more tests, tests, tests. Just have to keep believing there's a light at the end of the tunnel!

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    1. It sometimes feels like one step forward...three steps back, doesn't it? I'm sorry you're familiar with that crazy-making frustration too.

      But yes: just have to keep our eyes on that pinprick of light, will it to grow bigger, and put one foot in front of the other.

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  10. That is frustrating!!!! How could they not have realized this!?!? On the other hand, I am glad they finally realized it! And will get you to a lab that has the best shot for your embryos!!!

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    1. Frustrating, but if my latest post is anything to go on, hopefully moot. Yikes.

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