My dad says I am weird. (And for my dad to say that makes it a little scary.) He thinks it is weird that I enjoy having surgery. Seeing how he has never had surgery himself I am not quite sure how he would know if he would like it or not, he’s just assuming. But me? I’ve been there. Many times. Not that I mean surgery like “cutting into my foot” or “drilling holes in my brain”. I am pretty sure neither of those would be fun, though of course, like my dad, I’ve never had either of those things happen. But egg retrievals? Oh yeah… been there, done that.

First of all, the “starting to feel it” has evolved into “definitely feeling it.” The ovaries are starting to ache just a little bit. It’s not pain, just bloating. Pressure. A little tenderness. I am not fond of pants right now. Standing up is a-okay…. sitting down causes the waistline to cut in right there and it rather feels like someone gently squeezing a bruise. I am feeling the right more than the left, which makes sense when you consider that the right is the side that was operated on, pieces removed and all. I don’t want to be all whiny, because honestly it’s not that bad. Actually in a way it makes me slightly giddy. Things are rolling right along, and that makes me happy. But anyways, I feel them, it’s getting a little worse each day, and I’m really looking forward to having all those eggs sucked out so that things can get back to normal in there. And so I can wear my jeans again.

Back to the giddy. The giddy is definitely part of the reason I like this surgery. I want to know how many is really in there, I want to find out what fertilizes. I’m always anxious when waking up from retrieval, but I like getting info. I like waking up knowing that now they can finally give me some concrete numbers. I’m all about the numbers.

But for me retrieval has another aspect to it. They go out of their way to make you feel well taken care of. I like getting tucked into bed and covered with heated blankets. People ask me if they can get me anything, and I get wheeled around in a bed. Getting the IV put in sucks, but the medication is pretty awesome, off to dream as the world fades away, like nothing is of any importance at all. I’m lucky, waking up from retrieval doesn’t involve pain or sickness, just a heavy sleepiness. And then of course I get to go home and sleep for the rest of the day.

All of that combined equals Hell yeah, retrieval, woo woo! I happily skip-hop along through the back room at work, knowing that retrieval is tuesday…. or wednesday. Either way it’s soon.

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I have done two of my stims injections myself. Just wanted to say that, so I have record of it. Den has been working hellish 14-hour days at work the past few nights, so I sucked it up and jabbed myself. Which I have never done before – not the full needle of stims, 1cc of fluid. And you know… it pretty much felt the same. It stung. It always stings. But I just breathe through it and it’s over.

The only one he cannot miss is trigger. We’re doing it intramuscular again. This time at least I’m not worried about it, since I survived it once just fine. I’m figuring out that most things in life sound a lot worse in your head than they really are in real life.

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Appointment in the morning. Holding my breath.

Then I go to work, and from there go to my acupuncture and massage appointments. I have permission to sack out and do nothing the rest of the afternoon…. just be limp noodly. Sounds perfect to me.