After much thought about cost and logistics, we finally decided to have the IVF and other extra meds ordered in the U.S. and sent here. Surprisingly, we actually saved money doing it this way, even after the actual meds and shipping were paid for.
I would burst into tears and quite possibly tantrum right here if I had to relive the process, but it’s almost over, I think. After what seems like a bazillion hours on the phone with a particular company in the U.S., the meds were delivered to my mom’s house on Saturday. Angel and hopeful grandparent that she is, she cared for the meds over the weekend. Checking the order, refrigerating them at the right temp, repackaging five boxes into one, freezing gel packs, you get the idea.
First thing Monday morning she packaged everything up and drove three hours to the DHL office near Minneapolis airport. Fortunately, DHL was extremely helpful and made the process as smooth as possible. My mom can’t say enough great things about their customer service (they will be receiving a lovely letter from us).
Enter the DHL tracking number. My husband has started calling me "Escobar" since I’m constantly on the computer, “tracking drugs.” Nice. Everything was going along swimmingly Minneapolis to Cleveland, Cleveland to East Midlands, UK, East Midlands, UK to Dublin, Ireland. BAM!
9/30/2009 11:05 am Clearance Delay Dublin, Ireland, Republic Of
10:15 am Processing for clearance Dublin, Ireland, Republic Of
6:52 am Arrived at DHL facility. Dublin, Ireland, Republic Of
CLEARANCE DELAY????? One panicked phone call to my husband later, I think we have it figured out. This is one of the times that having diplomatic status comes in handy, very handy. Even though the package is addressed to a certain place in which it should NOT have been held up in customs, it is. Therefore yet another angel has become involved in this process; he has secured a “dip note” and will be personally driving to the airport to fetch my package of drugs. “K” we owe you, BIG time!
Fingers crossed that within a few hours, 11K of meds will be safely residing in my cabinets and fridge, then I will take my first breath since Friday.
::bites nails:::
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
stamps hired on husband’s forehead
A little background: I’d rather not go into details in order to protect peoples’ privacy, but let’s just say that for my first IVF neither my husband nor I did any of my injections. We had help, wonderful, fabulous helpers that I miss dearly. ::dries tears::
Moving along....
I worked in health care, specifically anesthesia, so I am more than comfortable with medication, needles, and all things regularly seen in the OR, but let’s face it, drawing up meds to inject into yourself is a lot more stressful than doing it at work. Particularly when it’s been several years. I still remember how to do it and would probably have no problem doing the subcutaneous injects, but the IMs, because of location, would be a little tricky. Anyway, my husband has offered to learn and deliver all of my meds. Eep
This morning we had appointments at the same time for flu shots. I guess doing it that way meant the nurse has to run through the consent and aftercare spiel one less time. While the nurse and I were waiting for my husband to arrive, we were discussing the status of the IVF meds and I mentioned that my husband would be doing the injections. She thought today would be the perfect time for him to have his first lesson. Armed with some alcohol swabs, an ampule and vial of practice meds, a syringe, and a tangerine, we were ready for him when he walked into the health unit.
Under our watchful eyes and instruction, he practiced both the SC and IM injections on a defenseless piece of fruit and passed with flying colours. Then the nurse said he was welcome to give me my flu shot. He carefully drew up the med, wiped my arm, and bump, in went the needle. I can honestly say that had I not been watching him do it, I wouldn’t have believed it. He was so gentle; I didn’t feel a thing, not a thing.
Dear, you are hired!
Moving along....
I worked in health care, specifically anesthesia, so I am more than comfortable with medication, needles, and all things regularly seen in the OR, but let’s face it, drawing up meds to inject into yourself is a lot more stressful than doing it at work. Particularly when it’s been several years. I still remember how to do it and would probably have no problem doing the subcutaneous injects, but the IMs, because of location, would be a little tricky. Anyway, my husband has offered to learn and deliver all of my meds. Eep
This morning we had appointments at the same time for flu shots. I guess doing it that way meant the nurse has to run through the consent and aftercare spiel one less time. While the nurse and I were waiting for my husband to arrive, we were discussing the status of the IVF meds and I mentioned that my husband would be doing the injections. She thought today would be the perfect time for him to have his first lesson. Armed with some alcohol swabs, an ampule and vial of practice meds, a syringe, and a tangerine, we were ready for him when he walked into the health unit.
Under our watchful eyes and instruction, he practiced both the SC and IM injections on a defenseless piece of fruit and passed with flying colours. Then the nurse said he was welcome to give me my flu shot. He carefully drew up the med, wiped my arm, and bump, in went the needle. I can honestly say that had I not been watching him do it, I wouldn’t have believed it. He was so gentle; I didn’t feel a thing, not a thing.
Dear, you are hired!
update on the dishwasher
The repairman returned with the parts, worked for an hour, then left again to fetch more parts. Upon his final return, he “fixed” the dishwasher. He said he changed all of the hoses and clamps. When I asked if he had located the leak (the one he claimed didn’t exist earlier in the day), he responded that yes, the dish soap had “softened the hose and caused a leak.” As he was gathering up his tools, he pointed to the dishwasher and said, “well, it is from your country.” (it’s a Whirlpool). The final remark was something about not putting “washing up” soap in the dishwasher again. I was angry, though not nearly as angry as my husband was upon hearing the story over dinner. He just kept saying, “I can’t believe he spoke to you that way” and “it’s a good thing I wasn’t here”. Both true statements.
The dishwasher is now 30 minutes into a cycle. ::fingers crossed::
As for the phones, DEAD. The electrician will be back later today or tomorrow. ::sigh:: it’s ALWAYS something with this house.
The dishwasher is now 30 minutes into a cycle. ::fingers crossed::
As for the phones, DEAD. The electrician will be back later today or tomorrow. ::sigh:: it’s ALWAYS something with this house.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
house issues, edition 284 (I’m only half joking)
A little background, I detest our house, detest. From the moment we moved in we started having housing issues. The short list of what’s been replaced- refrigerator, freezer, dishwasher, microwave, dryer, washing machine, add in the numerous electrical and plumbing problems.
Last Friday, I started the dishwasher then came into the living room to check email and update my iPod. About 20 minutes later I noticed that the power cord on my laptop was out. Sure enough every electronic item in the house off. Somebody from Washington DC was in town to inspect the electricity in all government owned and leased housing, so I assumed he had arrived and somehow turned off the electricity before coming inside. Between the wording on the email I received and the timing, it seemed plausible. What do I know?
Hour after hour went by, no electrical expert knocked on the door. Several phone calls later, the powers that be were at the house and found the problem. The dishwasher was leaking and somehow water came into contact with something electrical in the dishwasher which then shorted out the circuit breaker for the outlets. Fair enough. The remedy: don’t use the dishwasher, we’ll contact the landlord and somebody will be out next week to fix the dishwasher.
Fast forward to today. Forty-five minutes late, the appliance repairman, whom I’ve dealt with several times before (see above list) arrived. He looked in the dishwasher, looked under the dishwasher, then said he knew what the problem was. He accused me of using regular dish soap in the dishwasher. Um, NO. I showed him the dishwasher pellets I use. Response, “well somebody used dish soap in there.” There are two people in the house and I honestly can’t think of a time my husband has ever used the dishwasher. He’s great about loading and unloading it, but given the task to actually start it, I don’t think he’d even know how (there are several buttons and it has to be done in a certain order). Mr. repairman continued to insist that I put dish soap in the dishwasher. Becoming increasingly angry over the accusation, I showed him my Williams Sonoma dish soap and told him in no uncertain terms that there is no way I would waste, I mean use that soap in the dishwasher. Ever. He said that he’d looked for leaks and didn’t see any. My instructions were to run the dishwasher without soap for a full cycle. With that, he left.
Twenty minutes later, another repairman arrived, this time for the phones. Don’t ask. While speaking with him about the wiring, phone and alarm issues, a lovely woman from the housing department called to check on the dishwasher repairman. I explained the “diagnosis” and let’s just say, she was less than thrilled that I’d been accused of putting dish soap in the machine. She also asked me to check for additional water since it was currently running. As soon as I walked into the kitchen, bam, the clock on the coffee maker went out, microwave went out. Hmm, it was like Friday all over again. The wonderful electrician who was at the house pulled the machine out, sure enough, water. He even had a few suggestions as to what was wrong and why it was short-circuiting the electricity.
A few phone calls and two hours later, the appliance repairman returned, even less thrilled to be here than the first time. The electrician tried to exchange pleasantries with him and was ignored. The appliance repairman was visibly upset when the electrician made a suggestion as to what might be wrong with the dishwasher. The repairman then said he had to go get supplies and would return in an hour. So, here I sit. tick tock tick tock
Fortunately the electrician was wonderful, phones are fixed, and I now have his number should we have a problem in the future. He also got bonus points in my book because he was really sweet to the cats.
Last Friday, I started the dishwasher then came into the living room to check email and update my iPod. About 20 minutes later I noticed that the power cord on my laptop was out. Sure enough every electronic item in the house off. Somebody from Washington DC was in town to inspect the electricity in all government owned and leased housing, so I assumed he had arrived and somehow turned off the electricity before coming inside. Between the wording on the email I received and the timing, it seemed plausible. What do I know?
Hour after hour went by, no electrical expert knocked on the door. Several phone calls later, the powers that be were at the house and found the problem. The dishwasher was leaking and somehow water came into contact with something electrical in the dishwasher which then shorted out the circuit breaker for the outlets. Fair enough. The remedy: don’t use the dishwasher, we’ll contact the landlord and somebody will be out next week to fix the dishwasher.
Fast forward to today. Forty-five minutes late, the appliance repairman, whom I’ve dealt with several times before (see above list) arrived. He looked in the dishwasher, looked under the dishwasher, then said he knew what the problem was. He accused me of using regular dish soap in the dishwasher. Um, NO. I showed him the dishwasher pellets I use. Response, “well somebody used dish soap in there.” There are two people in the house and I honestly can’t think of a time my husband has ever used the dishwasher. He’s great about loading and unloading it, but given the task to actually start it, I don’t think he’d even know how (there are several buttons and it has to be done in a certain order). Mr. repairman continued to insist that I put dish soap in the dishwasher. Becoming increasingly angry over the accusation, I showed him my Williams Sonoma dish soap and told him in no uncertain terms that there is no way I would waste, I mean use that soap in the dishwasher. Ever. He said that he’d looked for leaks and didn’t see any. My instructions were to run the dishwasher without soap for a full cycle. With that, he left.
Twenty minutes later, another repairman arrived, this time for the phones. Don’t ask. While speaking with him about the wiring, phone and alarm issues, a lovely woman from the housing department called to check on the dishwasher repairman. I explained the “diagnosis” and let’s just say, she was less than thrilled that I’d been accused of putting dish soap in the machine. She also asked me to check for additional water since it was currently running. As soon as I walked into the kitchen, bam, the clock on the coffee maker went out, microwave went out. Hmm, it was like Friday all over again. The wonderful electrician who was at the house pulled the machine out, sure enough, water. He even had a few suggestions as to what was wrong and why it was short-circuiting the electricity.
A few phone calls and two hours later, the appliance repairman returned, even less thrilled to be here than the first time. The electrician tried to exchange pleasantries with him and was ignored. The appliance repairman was visibly upset when the electrician made a suggestion as to what might be wrong with the dishwasher. The repairman then said he had to go get supplies and would return in an hour. So, here I sit. tick tock tick tock
Fortunately the electrician was wonderful, phones are fixed, and I now have his number should we have a problem in the future. He also got bonus points in my book because he was really sweet to the cats.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Creating a Family
This morning I was checking in on one of my favorite infertility and adoption websites, "Creating A Family". In addition to her fabulous website full of resources for both infertility and adoption, Dawn Davenport also has links to her weekly podcats, which I subscribe to on iTunes. I decided to go back in the archives to see if there were any podcasts I had perhaps missed. I started at the beginning of those listed, 2007. As I read through the list, I realized that I had already heard all of the podcasts from 2007, 2008, and 2009. It’s hard to believe that we have been dealing with infertility for this long.
If you are looking for a fabulous resource for both adoption and infertility, please check out the Creating a Family website. Also sign up for the free, information packed, weekly podcasts on iTunes.
If you are looking for a fabulous resource for both adoption and infertility, please check out the Creating a Family website. Also sign up for the free, information packed, weekly podcasts on iTunes.
bcps, I hate you
During our 4 ½ year marriage, I have never taken bcps. I also didn’t have to take them for the first IVF. Apparently it’s standard protocol for this clinic, so here I am, on bcps.
They are HORRIBLE! My face is broken out, I feel like I’m about to crawl out of my skin, and the hunger, oh the hunger. I can’t stop eating. I try to trick myself with big glasses of water, hot tea, broth-based soups, anything to feel full. Nothing works, I just need to eat. Fortunately we don’t keep junk food in the house and I don't have a sweet tooth, so I’m only eating healthy food, but still, way too much food. I’m terrified to step on the scale. I know I’ve gained weight. The thought of throwing prednisone into the mix in a few weeks is terrifying. Follow that up with IVF meds. Eek!
Fortunately with the compromised immune system I’ll be on house quarantine, so yoga pants and t-shirts are acceptable attire, but considering that I never lost the 20 pounds from the first IVF cycle, I’m not looking forward to the additional weight gain.
::whimper::
They are HORRIBLE! My face is broken out, I feel like I’m about to crawl out of my skin, and the hunger, oh the hunger. I can’t stop eating. I try to trick myself with big glasses of water, hot tea, broth-based soups, anything to feel full. Nothing works, I just need to eat. Fortunately we don’t keep junk food in the house and I don't have a sweet tooth, so I’m only eating healthy food, but still, way too much food. I’m terrified to step on the scale. I know I’ve gained weight. The thought of throwing prednisone into the mix in a few weeks is terrifying. Follow that up with IVF meds. Eek!
Fortunately with the compromised immune system I’ll be on house quarantine, so yoga pants and t-shirts are acceptable attire, but considering that I never lost the 20 pounds from the first IVF cycle, I’m not looking forward to the additional weight gain.
::whimper::
Millers Pizza Kitchen, worth another mention
My husband had a birthday this week and when asked where he wanted to go to dinner, he chose Millers Pizza Kitchen. It’s within walking distance of our house and we’ve had consistently good food and service there, so off we went.
Normally I get the chicken Caesar salad, but the night we were there they offered a starter and main dish for €14.95, so I chose a Caesar salad to start, and the Hawaiian pizza for the main. The salad was huge! Fortunately my husband ate about half of it. I also ended up bringing most of the pizza home. As I said in my first review, Millers Pizza Kitchen should not be missed if you are in Dublin. Yum!
Millers Pizza Kitchen
50 Upper Baggot Street, Ballsbridge
Caesar salad
Crisp cos lettuce tossed with garlic crutons, shaved Parmesan, smoked bacon, Caesar dressing and finished with toasted pine nuts, basil and cracked black pepper
Hawaiian pizza
Ham, sweetcorn, mozzarella and pineapple, finished with fresh chives and basil
Carribean jerk pizza
Marinated roast fillet of chicken with roasted red peppers, fresh green chillis, coconut milk, Jamaican jerk sauce, fresh coriander, pimento, lime and finished with pineapple, coconut and jalapeno salad
Normally I get the chicken Caesar salad, but the night we were there they offered a starter and main dish for €14.95, so I chose a Caesar salad to start, and the Hawaiian pizza for the main. The salad was huge! Fortunately my husband ate about half of it. I also ended up bringing most of the pizza home. As I said in my first review, Millers Pizza Kitchen should not be missed if you are in Dublin. Yum!
Millers Pizza Kitchen
50 Upper Baggot Street, Ballsbridge
Caesar salad
Crisp cos lettuce tossed with garlic crutons, shaved Parmesan, smoked bacon, Caesar dressing and finished with toasted pine nuts, basil and cracked black pepper
Hawaiian pizza
Ham, sweetcorn, mozzarella and pineapple, finished with fresh chives and basil
Carribean jerk pizza
Marinated roast fillet of chicken with roasted red peppers, fresh green chillis, coconut milk, Jamaican jerk sauce, fresh coriander, pimento, lime and finished with pineapple, coconut and jalapeno salad
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