Yeah, I went back to Dr. Dickhead. I didn't have any choice.I didn't think I was infertile. I thought I'd just go in, order a cup of sperm, and be pushin' out a young'un in 9 months. (tears of laughter)
Imagine my surprise to learn that I'd have to undergo fertility treatment. That I had something called "eggs" and that they needed to be a "certain size" in order to make a baby.
I took Clomid for a couple of months. I'd heard stories...but I might as well have been swallowing Tic-Tacs. I didn't experience any mood changes, weight swings or any side effects at all.
Unfortunately my eggs didn't change either. The surly little bastards were sitting around in my ovary watching Oprah and eating Nacho Cheese Doritos. They were like all, hey beyotch, we're 37 years old. Cut us some slack here! We're little and lazy and we like it that way. Four cycles went by and the dildo-cam revealed eggs that were flipping me the bird.
So it was onto the next step--Pergonal. (Insert the music that gets played when a nubile young teenager goes into the attic wearing nothing but scanty underwear in a horror flick)
"Seven Hundred Dollars!" I shrieked into the phone. "And I'm supposed to pay that in ADVANCE?" Yeah, I was having a conniption about $700.00. It was even covered by insurance, but I had to lay out the dough up front.
I had no idea that women could run up bills that would make $700.00 look like bubble gum money.
So I started taking Pergonal. And I started noticing that I was gaining a huge amount of weight. The jeans I'd worn for 10 years were tight. And I was starting to shriek at people. I had never experienced PMS, but now I was making up for lost time.
To be continued....
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