(Start with "Monday" if you can. I just had a root canal. If I can stand that pain surely you can deal with a few days of my blogs. True, I'm Vicodin-ed up.) So, what were we talking about? Oh right. Things I'm clueless about and the lady with four boys who hates all of us poor unfortunate infertiles because we're not in the mood to throw her baby showers and personally christen her kids.
A moment ago, I mentioned Vicodin. Truth be told, speaking of "clueless", I am the most clueless druggie you'll ever meet. I know nothing about drugs. I don't even know if "druggie" is the accepted spelling among addicts. Is there a more politically correct term: "Snorting consultants" or "High fuel injection experts"? For myself, I prefer "IVF Drug User."
I do unfortunately, know more than I ever wanted to about Follistim, Lupron, HCG, Gonal-F--and you probably could get a lot of cash for them on the street. Can you picture driving into a dark, seedy neighborhood and rolling down your window for some sleeze?: "Hey lady, I got some good sh-t guaranteed to rock your ovaries." I bet he doesn't take my insurance either.
My entire street-drug education has taken place in my livingroom watching "Cops" marathons. I may have mentioned it before, but I actually wrote an article years ago about my drug cluelessness called: "Or... It Could Be The Cocaine."
There'd I'd be, working at some job or other for a few months and I'd have this coworker who always struck me as boisterous, high-strung, hyper, or high-spirited.
So, somewhere around that three month mark, I would inevitably comment to a fellow co-worker "Yeah, Rick/Steve/Mike/Annette sure has a boisterous/high-strung/hyper/high-spirited personality" to which they would inevitably reply: "Or... it could be the cocaine." Clueless.
So what do our well-meaning fertile friends and family say to us that proves they're just as clueless?
Well, I had a doctor tell me: "Take a vacation. That's how I got pregnant." (Maybe I needed to get a second opinion since she's a veterinarian.)
So first I'm thinking: Okay, she went on vacation and came back pregnant. Was this spring break? I bet a lot of girls get pregnant that way. Then the following winter, every male co-ed who was playing drunken beach blanket bingo in Cancun is on "Maury" taking a DNA test.
And what part of the vacation is actually responsible for this burst of fertility? Can I create a short cut and just sleep with a travel agent?
Do my husband and I actually have to have sex during this vacation or is the act of being on this miracle vacation good enough?
Does my body know where we're going? Do my ovaries prefer a certain climate? Will they know a luxury hotel from a Motel 6?
Should we go to a Bed and Breakfast? Does my body know if we can only afford the bed and skip the breakfast?
Or should we only do the breakfast and sleep in the car? Will my eggs know if we're getting cozy in our old clunker car at a new location? Or do we have to do it in a rental?
There are two main flaws I find with the "Just Go On Vacation and You'll Get Pregnant" advice:
1) I'm going to the doctor for blood tests every other day. If the procedures work, I'll be pregnant. If they don't work, I'll have to start all over a few days later. I'm an old person. I'm not like the Rolling Stones: I don't have time on my side. (Frankly, neither do they at this point.) So when is this vacation happening?
2) Is the person doling out advice also doling out airline tickets? If not, at $15,000 an IVF pop, our vacation would have to revolve heavily around a drive-thru. Our "concierge" would know how to say "May I take your order?" in three languages.
Listen, I gotta go I'm kinda liking this Vicodin. I think I'll go back to the dentist and see what else he can drill.
I'll talk with ya again tomorrow.