Day 13: Trigger

Sunday 28th February 2016

Could things get any worse than they are as of now? Today is what you’d call a bad day. A real stinker. Everything that could go wrong, went south. I can’t even get my head around it all, and considering I am forced to deal with issues via Skype (Erroll is in Paris), my frustration level is really high.

Where to begin?

At 11:30 this morning  Dr. Munira does a final scan to see how my one lone follicle fairs: she’s grown plump Dr. M says. I am pleased…but what do I see there, right next to it? That black mass, I ask her. That’s fluid, and it may indicate that your follicle will burst prematurely. WHAT?? You mean before egg collection on Tuesday?? Yes, possibly.  She finished off with ‘we will only know if it has burst once we do a scan on Tuesday. If it has indeed burst, then that night you must have relations with your husband…’

At 5pm I wake suddenly from a nap and recognize that I am already late in administering the final Cetrotide injection, so you can imagine my frantic pace to get a still sleepy Kingsley fed, dressed and out of the house, into the metro and to the pharmacy, get the pharmacist to take my order over the scores of others who declare their own case as urgent as mine (no way!) and then finally self-administer. GRRR. And I know full well that timeliness is critical in assisted fertility.

At 9pm Erroll and I had a most difficult conversation over Skype about ‘what next’ considering the Conceive Clinic (as with all fertility centers in Dubai) require HIV and Hepatitis tests results to be obtained before IVF can proceed. My blood was drawn today, witnessed by an unfazed Kingsley. What about yours Erroll? He has not yet done the tests…

At 11:30pm I self-inject the trigger shot Ovitrelle which helps release what I pray is an egg held within that lone follicle of mine. Erroll and I Skype some more about this very precocious situation we are in: it all hinges on him getting bloods done before Tuesday 10:30am which is impossible for he is in Paris now, and arrives early hours Tuesday.

At 1:45am (this minute), I calculate to have eaten half a loaf of bread smothered in honey plus two oranges and a brown of porridge in the past two hours, all because of severe anxiety over this wild ride. My stomach is audibly disagreeing with what I stuffed it with and I have a dull ache in my right ovary area. Is the trigger doing it thing? On Tuesday we find out…

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The little man playing with his music centre

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Kingsley playing with his Noah’s Ark ( or as he calls it ‘kivotōs’ in Greek)

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