I am ALMOST at the end of the hormone pumping/hormone blocking pushmepullyou tug -of-war contest phase of my egg collection saga. It's been a hell of a nauseous ride that started with me learning how to use a hyperdermic needle on myself twice a day (easier than I thought) and feeling good enough to go MC a comedy gig down in Geelong, but then ended up with me back under the watchful eye of Ma and Pa Schwarcz just in case I need to head into Emergency, because I now have something called Ovarian Hyper Stimulation Syndrome (OHSS), a potentially dangerous situation. Something that apparently happens to only about 3-5% of women on this treatment trying to preserve their eggs. Yayyyyyyy!!! I feel incredibly special.
OHSS happens when you grow over 20 follicles between the 2 ovaries. Ummmmm.... I managed to squeeze really hard and come up with 32. That's a fair few. So not only did I start dealing with the opposing effects of being the equivalent of a menopausal-pregnant woman (potentially highly emotional, hormonal, sore joints, negative brain capacity), I now also have OHSS symptoms too. Yippeee!!! I feel SO incredibly special.
I can't wear jeans right now. Nope. Nuh uh. No way. I can't wear jeans because I am bloated up to my eyeballs with water retention, and my enlarged ovaries hurt. I have been exhausted, and I barely ate this week due to the nausea, but I am getting my appetite back slowly. Which is good. Because I like food. I really like food.
The nurses call me every day to monitor me, and I have to weigh myself and make sure I am peeing out all the water that my increased thirst has encouraged me to gulp.
And in half an hour I will inject the trigger medication which will trigger the eggs to release and early Tuesday morning I will be "harvested". Like I am a farm with seasonal fruit that needs picking. Which apparently I am. But lord help me if the hospital have employed backpackers to help collect the harvest. If they have, then Yaaay!! I feel incredibly special.
So it will be back to the Royal Women's surgery and back to the anaesthetist, but this time he'll see a different part of my anatomy.
And all of this is happened, because I have no idea why I am doing this. I guess it's just because.
PS. When I got picked up and taken to Mum and Dad's "just in case of emergency", I left behind a brand new box of organic fruit and vegetables. Lame.