I had my first surgery yesterday as part of my IVF. Friday night I had a little big picture freak out session, but yesterday actually went really well. I was only out for about a half hour, they got way more than they thought they would, and I woke up and wasn’t freaked out (my previous experiences with anesthesia left me pretty freaked out when I awoke). The most recent time was getting my wisdom teeth out and I woke up during the surgery, not excellent.
So I woke up and they told me how over achievingly successful my ovaries are (Ivy Leaguers…) and I started to cry from relief. It actually felt really good to cry about something that was good news instead of all the sad/scared/overwhelmed crying I’ve been doing. It’s also apparently really normal to cry after coming out of anesthesia, but whatever. So I sat there and cried about how great it was that this worked out really well and that we’ll have popsicle babies on layaway and how fortunate we are to have been able to do this. Also, guess who doesn’t have to give herself shots in the stomach anymore? yeah boy!
Today we got the call that they were hoping that they’d have 60% success rate out of what they extracted and they ended up with 90% which is pretty much unheard of and amazing. So if anyone needs some baby help I probably have some I could sell you, assuming that you don’t mind that their mom had cancer at 30. It’s a huge relief that makes me a little sad though because based on the rate of success I can’t help but think that we’d have been able to have kids pretty easily. It’s not as hard to think about as when I first got diagnosed, but it’s still a sore spot for me. Cancer < Babies
Tomorrow I go in for surgery number two in the early afternoon. They’re taking some nodes (insert Pitch Perfect reference here) and doing something to my abdomen to prep for the tram flap. It’s the start of my spiral of being down and out for a while unfortunately. Still sucks that I’m so uncomfortable right now that I’m not getting some time to appreciate my healthy/paint free body. My Mom is coming with us, because otherwise who knows what she’d do to our room this time while stressing out back at the house.
On a completely unrelated/funny note, Myles, aka the Poop aka Bathmat, fell out of our second story window (he’s fine). He is so fat that he popped the screen out by leaning against it (although to be fair it wasn’t in the greatest shape due to the former occupant of my room). My Mom thought he was dead when she found the screen and was freaking out about having to tell me, but then Myles came walking out from the backyard and was totally fine. This is his second incident with falling out of a window, so the plus side is that I win the argument with A. about whether or not he is stupid enough to fall out of a window. It’s the little things.
And Rena and Vivian are here all week which is also excellent.