She Wore a Pearl Necklace

On her ovaries. At least, that's what the sonogram picture looked like. Sparkly and round shiny cysts. That'll bring anyone down from a high. I thought that maybe I had ovulated or would ovulate or was maybe in the same neighborhood of ovulation. No, not even close. The sonogram yesterday was a heartbreaker, and yet, it may have provided some hope. A baseline has been established where there previously was none. I go back next week for a cycle day 20 sonogram. Gotta see how the follicles are moving along, if at all. They want to start me on Clomid. I was warned that most girls with PCOS do not respond to 50mg of Clomid at all. Then they up the dose to 100mg, then 150mg. After that I don't know what they do. I may turn into Attila the Hun, according to a friend of mine. Who knows. We'll see. I've a feeling I'm in for a lot of heartache before the final payoff gets here. I'm bracing for it as best I can while trying to remain optimistic about the whole ordeal. Tim and I are starting out on a very long and arduous, not to mention expensive, journey. Thoughts and prayers from anyone reading this will be appreciated more than you will ever know.
The HSG dye test is a must for me because of some idiotic malpractice of a surgeon years ago. There is scarring, and I have no idea if it's inside the tube or not. I'm praying it isn't. I can't run the risk of an ectopic pregnancy, nor does my doctor want to run that risk either. It's a very sticky and precarious situation I'm in, and one that sometimes fills me with despair. I am struggling to bring myself out of that pit and have faith and courage through all of this. 

Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star...

How I wonder what you are. Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky...

It's been a while since I updated. Been busy, or apathetic, you choose. I don't care which. In the time since I last wrote in this thingy, I've been to a wedding (yay!), taken midterms (un-yay), and written a biology lap report (also, un-yay). I've been trucking along on my weight-loss journey, getting even more frustrated. PCOS is not an easy disease to deal with, physically and emotionally. It slows down weight loss horrendously. In the 7-8 weeks I've been on Weight Watchers, I've lost a grand total of 3 pounds. On average (don't you love that phrase? I don't), most people who stick to the program have lost at least 3 times that amount, if not more. I can't fault WW for that; they're helping--in tiny increments. Which is still a minor victory, even though it feels like I'm wading through quicksand. Sometimes, I get hopeful. My friend joined WW this weekend, and I went to a Saturday meeting with her to get her started. She's the type who won't go by herself, bless her heart. So, I went, and she's all happy I'm going with her. I don't think she realizes how happy I am I'm going with someone. Someone who can help me and I can help, someone who (hopefully) will poke me and prod me into doing what it is I need to do. Currently, we walk three times per week together with another lady. So, at least I'm up and moving. I'm trying to think what I can do in the meantime, on the days we don't walk. It's not like I don't have enough to do with school work, but schoolwork is not very active. I'm thinking. I'm really hoping my friend sticks with this, not only to help her, but to help me, too. I'm a little bit selfish.

School for next semester promises to be very busy. 15 hours I'm scheduled for at this point. I may try to rearrange some of that in the next few days. I'm classified now as a junior, which is wonderful, because I thought I was still in the freshman/sophomore camp. After this semester, I will have ~50 hours left to complete a degree. Then, with much luck, I will be on to graduate school! Whee! I shall be scholarly and smart and stuff. Maybe not articulate, but at least it will be written on paper that I'm "smart".

I'm both anxious and eager about next week. I go to the doctor for a much anticipated appointment. She told me to go off my birth control pills in June, which I did. I have not had a period since then. She wanted to see what my body would do on its own, with no aid, for at least three months before my appointment. Well, I have a list. A big list. A list that we shall discuss in depth. I'm paying out-of-pocket for these expensive visits, so I'm definitely going to get my money's worth. She's also the type of doctor who cares what you have to say, listens to what you tell her, then makes educated decisions based on her knowledge and what you have told her. She's pretty awesome. I know that she's given hope, and even babies, to many many women with issues like PCOS and endometriosis (I have, coincidentally, been diagnosed with both pains-in-the-ass. A rarity). I have dangerous hope that she can help me.

I'm killing time before I take my Akbash Dog, Tetris, to obedience class at Petsmart. She needs it, as she is the most stubborn dog I have ever had the privilege to own. 'Tis their breed. Currently all my goobers are snoring and cuddled up in various places in this room. Rydia's on her bed. Cu Sidhe's on my bed with her daddy, and Tetris is at my feet, lying on  top of them. Spoiled rotten creatures. If nothing else, I have my furbabies, as lovable and frustrating as they can be. I wouldn't have them any other way, except maybe a little more well-behaved. We're working on that. They're still spoiled though, despite the fact they tell everyone that I starve them and beat them. They're starting to have enough rolls to look like their mama.

Time to kill about 45 more minutes until it's time for Tetris and me to get the heck out of Dodge. Leave some comment love so that I feel validated in my rants and whines and declarations. I know, it's all psychological. But, psychological validation is important, right? Right.