It's never simple, is it?

On Monday, yes, on William's birthday, I officially started my second round of IVF. It already feels like it was a mission to get to this point due to being on hormone balancing drugs from mid July, plus two weeks of pre stimulation injections to prep my body for what was to come. But I would never have predicted what would come. Things started as normal. The usual complex package of trying to juggle nurse visits every evening for injections, along with early morning blood tests and scans at the hospital every two days all whilst having a four year old at home, a husband at work, and no family around to cover the necessary childcare. Thankfully Sophie was able to step in and help at a moments notice. We really couldn't have done this without her. 

I'm a member of a facebook support group for people with my specific physiological/anatomical issues and looking back at my posts from that week, it is crazy:

"It’s 6.45am and I’m waiting for the lab to open for blood work. After this, I’ll go home, let my husband leave for work (late), get our son sorted, drop him at my husband’s work (opposite the hospital) then meet my doc for a scan. Whatever happens, we’ll also be fitting in a 4th birthday celebration for our boy. This IVF last sure keeps you busy!"

Then.. 

"I’m on Day 3 of stimulation with Clomid and Menopur.

Woke this morning with a stabby pain in my left side at my rib cage which was worse when trying to breathe in fully. It’s gotten worse as the day has gone on and is also worse when I lie down.

The result of wearing a bra that was too tight yesterday, or something more sinister?"

As the day went on, it wasn't getting any better so, after much googling and discussion with my online community, I managed to get an emergency appointment with my specialist. He felt it was more muscular so wasn't too concerned but decided to book me in for an x-ray the following morning to be on the safe side. He said I had to continue with the treatment as planned so I got more injections that night. I couldn't lie back on the pillows without the pain being completely unbearable so lying flat was impossible. With all this happening, I barely slept a wink all night. 

I got up to the hospital for my scan in the morning and the radiologist called me in to go through my results. He said there wasn't much going on, but he then asked if I was pregnant. When I told him I was doing IVF, he went back for a second check of things and then wrote up a report. I didn't really know what to do with it so just took it straight upstairs to Dr Dellis' office. I drove home, still feeling awful, and relieved Sophie of yet more babysitting duties. Then, about 10mins after I'd gotten home, the phone went. It was Dellis' secretary saying that he'd seen the report and that I needed to come to his office urgently, collect a referral letter then go directly to A&E. I called Sophie and she came straight back, and I called Iain who said he would meet me at the hospital. 

I bloody knew I wasn't right. Got to the hospital at about 10.30am and as soon as they read my report, they got me straight through and hooked up to all sorts of machines. My blood pressure was through the roof (177/78). Crazy. I was assigned a really lovely doctor who was young, thorough, caring and she spoke good english. She suspected a pulmonary embolism linked to the IVF drugs and the blood tests they'd done also suggested this, but I needed a CT scan to confirm things and had to wait for hours for a slot. But it did give them a chance to pump me full of morphine while I waited as I needed to be able to lie down to get in the scanner. As it was, I was lucky to be able to sit back against the pillows without experiencing excruciating pain. 

At about 5pm I finally got my scan. And it was good news! The doctor said she's never been so relived to tell someone that they have bacterial pneumonia, but that was the diagnosis - and not directly linked to the IVF drugs. She said that I'd just been mega unlucky to pick up the infection whilst going about all my lab and clinical appointments. Trust me. And the best bit was that she spoke to Dellis and they were both in agreement that I would be able to continue with my stimulations. Mental. 

I got discharged around 6.30pm and I was absolutely delighted to be getting home. I was, however, absolutely raging with the pharmacist next to our house who had a go at me for not being able to speak french, whilst being in the possession of a Carte Vitale. I was physically slumped over the her counter, with prescription from the hospital and she was having a go at me! Quite honestly, the worst customer service I've ever had. I will never go in to her pharmacy again. 

If I thought the house was like a pharmacy before, this took things to the next level. I was put on antibiotics, with a cocktail of paracetamol and tramadol for the pain as it would take a couple of days for the antibiotics to kick in. 

Without going into too much detail, this whole thing has spooked me though. 

It's always me, isn't it?!

Lorna.