Well, guess who had a phone call from the consultant yesterday evening?
One of the fertility nurses phoned me at 5pm last night to say that my blood tests had come back and one of the indicators was too high. She also said that the consultant had looked at my egg scans and was not happy about the number of eggs as there were way too many.
Seems I'm a very likely candidate for OHSS (Ovarian Hyperstimulation Syndrome) and as a result I've had to lower my dose of the stimulating hormone immediately as apparently it can be fatal. (nice thought)
I'm now on 2 powders of Menopur injections per evening instead of 3. I've got to do this until I go for some more blood tests and another scan on Monday. If there's no change, this round of IVF will be abandoned as it will be too dangerous for me to continue.
This would mean that all the injections and work so far would have been for nothing.
Apparently there's lots of good sized eggs but also lots of tiny ones. If the tiny ones carry on growing then it'll be really dangerous. If they stay as they are then I'll be OK and we can continue. However, I just feel that something is very wrong as I'm so dizzy and still feeling and being really sick.
I also had the mother of all rows with Tom this morning which culminated in me throwing a book at him. He announced this morning that he really wanted to go to the football. This is after he's worked away all week, he's working all day tomorrow and is away most of next week. Today was the only real day we would get together for a while and the sod wanted to go to football. I freaked out and had a huge crying fit and hurled the first thing at him that I could find, which was a book.
However, the irony of the hurling was that I had thrown a Jeremy Kyle book at him! So, the king of domestic ranting and problem solving was spinning through the air and almost hit Tom square in the chops. I sobbed under the duvet for about half an hour, threw up again and then realised I was being a twat.
These hormones really do knock you about I can tell you.
We've since been to buy a Christmas tree each and have spent the last hour hacking at the one I chose with Dad's saw whilst Tom sat on it on a stool to try and keep it still. It looked like some sort of festive rodeo. I had somehow selected a 7 foot tree with a 9 foot wide trunk so Tom's been sweating like mad trying to whittle it down to fit in the holder. It will currently only stand up if you wedge a broom handle underneath it so I have a beautifully decorated tree with a white plastic broom handle sticking out from the base and tripping up anyone who wants a closer look. I also think we've bent Dad's saw in our Christmas tree Wild West Rodeo so he'll not be too happy either. (hell hath no fury like a dad with a bent tool...)
Tom's now nipped home to get changed for the annual Estonian Christmas meal and carol concert. We will therefore no doubt be watching the X Factor final through a fug of sauerkraut induced wind. Delightful.
Will update again on Monday to let you know if the treatment is continuing or if we have to abandon this round. I feel absolutely shattered both mentally, physically and emotionally at the moment so I just can't wait to know for certain what's going on. Trust me to produce so many bloomin eggs.
So, love in the meantime. Please keep your fingers crossed for me on Monday. I can't believe we may have got this far only to have it snatched away from us.
P.S On a lighter note... Olly to win!!!!