Yeah, that’s me. Overreacting, as usual. I’m just going to keep up the traditon and blame the Lupron. Or maybe I’m not overreacting and you guys have WICKED powers of persuasion over my body. If that’s the case, can I convince you all to hope like hell that this whole IVF thing works?
Suffice it to say, the cyst(s) actually turned out to be non-functional, and were I not in another city, I would have had it aspirated today, and continued on with this cycle starting Monday or so. However, we are here, and the aspirator is there, and my doctor prefers to do procedures herself if possible, and she is only in the office Wednesday to Friday (though this is a vast improvement over just Thursday and Friday…), which means that next Wednesday, I get to get all doped up and take another visit to the RE to have a needle inserted into thé Effin’ Cyst and have it drained. And then I will likely start stims on Friday-ish. So “just” a one week delay. Not so bad after all.
I think the thing is, I saw CYST and heard CYST and thought CYST and continued on down that path towards, “Good goshalmightly, but my body does love making cysts, doesn’t it?” and from there to “oh, NO. I will never, ever, EVER be able to complete an IVF cycle because my body is such a freak for the whole cyst thing.” And of course, from there, to the whole “WAAAAAAH. My life SUCKS! I will NEVER be a parent because ohGOD THE CYSTS THE CYSTS THE CYSTS.”
Yeah. Logical, I know.
While the reaction was decidedly above and beyond what it needed to be given the facts, the thing is that I’m really touchy about the whole “cyst” topic. I had severe cystic acne as an early teen. My shoulders bear the lumpy, watery-skinned scars of someone who had bleeding, scabby acne (so bad that I only began to wear white shirts again in my twenties). And I spent the decades between 13 and 30 having monthly large ovarian cysts that ruptured*, and bled, and hurt so badly. And I just (I mean *JUST*) had a cyst that turned into a solid lump removed from the back of my neck (in case you missed Thursday’s post). And while at the dermatologist, he diagnosed a whole new kind of painful cyst that I have embedded in the tendon by my left elbow, one that will require actual sedated surgery if I ever want to remove it. I have cystic acne on my jaw line. I still get the occasional cyst on my back/shoulders. I have cysts on my ovaries, on my legs, in my breasts, on my neck and on my arms. So when I was told that the ovarian cysts were back, after being beaten into submission by the Metformin, it hit me pretty damn hard.
But it has turned out to be a virtual non-issue. I am, of course, not thrilled to put things off, even if it is only by a week. And I am not thrilled that my body thinks this is an appropriate time to dick around creating random cysts for no reason. But, for the time being, it looks like this will be a relatively easy thing to negotiate. Given all possible outcomes, this is a fair-to-middling result. I’ll take it.
*yeah. Nurse That’s-Not-A-Side-Effect informed me that ovarian cysts NEVER rupture. They just collapse in on themselves. That if they ruptured, that would cause inconceivable pain.
Ahem. Really? Because I would consider crawling under your desk, and curling up in a ball (despite the confused looks from your cube-farm neigbors and your boss) and praying for death, oh, please, please let me die, anything is better than this pain, my GOD the pain, doping yourself with vicod.in and still thinking that the whole “dying” thing is the best option to be about as close as you could come to “inconceivable” pain, in case you were wondering.