Turning 48

My birthday is Sunday. I will be 48. 

Everyone who has struggled with fertility knows that birthdays and ages weigh heavily when it seems like the end of possibility runs concurrent with the number of candles on your (possibly metaphorical) cake.

There is something freeing about age just being a number, an inching towards AARP, signaling my 30-year high school reunion (which I am attending in May), and...nothing else. 

I personally cannot wait until I am old enough that the x-ray technicians don't ask if I could be pregnant. 

What's 48? It's not quite 50. It's got me supposedly in perimenopause. Thanks to the gift of an exorcism/hysterectomy 6 years ago, I know this not because of irregular periods (ha, that's MY WHOLE LIFE with a dysfunctional uterus and ovaries), but because of the joy of hot flashes, night sweats, migraines, anxiety, mood swings... So many fun markers. Lots of people see this as an end of an era, of the door finally shutting on fertility. HA! That door slammed shut years ago, so there's no emotional tie-in for me. 

I did have to warn Bryce that the unpleasantness of Lupron was just a preview of menopause. He was oddly not excited about that. 

I am excited though, at the freedom of growing older without strings attached. I feel like because I know what it is like to dread a birthday, it is a glorious contrast to be like, "bring it on, birthday!" I can't wait to blow out some candles on my slice of gluten-free cake. 

I Think We Are the Couple from Up

Oh, Up. A movie that is lovely and funny but starts with the world's most traumatic montage (even just hearing the music can make me cry). What the hell, Pixar? Is it necessary to weave involuntary childlessness and moving forward from unspeakable grief only to lose your person in the end into the first 10 minutes of a KID'S MOVIE? 

Anyway. If ever I need to cry, I just watch that montage. I know the first time I saw the movie, I sobbed uncontrollably. 

But, we always joked about how we are like that couple, in a good way. They have such a beautiful relationship and just get each other. They read in chairs next to each other and hold hands. And then, when the horrible thing happens and they aren't going to be able to have children, that depiction of grief, of sitting in the chair just numb, wow. I feel that. Carl trying to help his wife heal while hurting himself? Oooof, yes. But then, they plan to go on adventures!  They have a travel book to fill! They have a savings jar! So! Much! Hope! 

It's funny, because my first birthday after we had decided we weren't going to continue with adoption and we were going to be childless forever, Bryce gave me a whole bunch of travel-related things. A how to pack, a how to travel, Atlas Obscura, and a travel journal. And we made plans, seven years ago (almost exactly!) in 2017. 

Instead of waterfalls in Venezuela, we planned to go to Scotland, to Ireland, to Iceland, to all the misty, rocky, cold places where puffins live. First we took our extravagant California trip, and that was amazing. Two weeks of California coast, of ocean and woods and food and wine. 

Then I had a hysterectomy. 

Bryce got deep in his PhD. 

We started planning an itinerary for Scotland, in late 2019. As we worked to solidify our plans into actual trip details, a freaking pandemic hit. No puffins for us. 

Traveling during high COVID times was not going to happen. 

And then my knee decided to go real bad. All of the -lands of the puffins have, um, rocks. And hills. All things it's really helpful to have functioning knees in order to do. 

I had a knee replacement. I recovered from my knee replacement, which turns 11 months in two days. 

AND THEN, QUITE RECENTLY, MY RIGHT KNEE STARTED ACTING LIKE IT WANTED IN ON THE TITANIUM. 

So I went to the surgeon, who took multi-view x-rays of my "good" knee. 

Guess what? Not so good anymore. Significant weathering on the right side of my patella, and considerable arthritis below. I got a cortisone shot, and was told, "You know the drill. You can schedule a replacement any time you're ready." 

MOTHER EFFER

Not doing it this summer, because I wanted a nice summer where I got to enjoy my new knee (which is now a questionable endeavor given Right Knee's behavior), but it is happening within the year, because I do NOT want to wait until I can't walk it hurts so bad to replace it. Which means next summer will be recovery, in some shape or form. Which means, hopefully we will be able to plan our international travel for... 2026? 

Our metaphorical jar keeps getting smashed. 

We are lucky. We have good health insurance, and I can do the knee replacement and then have TWO bionic knees. Take that, hills of Scotland and Ireland! Take that, volcanic geyserville of Iceland! I just have to be willing to wait. Again. 

I am really, really tired of all the waiting. But, at the end of it, hopefully there is a glorious puffin trip in places with fun accents. Because I would like the similarities to Ellie and Carl to stop, please. They are a lovely couple, but it doesn't exactly work out as planned and the trip with each other never happens. And it gets real sad and explains why Carl is such a curmudgeon.

So, right knee, get yourself all shiny and new, you diva. And then do your job so we can see those puffins together and go frolicking through the heather on the hill. 

ADHD and Clutter

I haven't really written much about the whole ADHD thing lately, but yup -- it's a thing. I am taking a medication that does seem to help, but really seems to help more with seasonal depression and general mood leveling, so the jury's still out on that one. Still not a stimulant medication. 

I have been focusing on skills, though, and I cannot recommend the YouTube channel "How to ADHD" enough. It is SO HELPFUL. And, the creator, Jessica McCabe, has a BOOK by the same name now! 


I have not gotten super far into the book, but I am looking forward to it. Particularly the chapter called, "How to See Time." Holy Moses do I need that one. 

Anyway, I was feeling overwhelmed in my office, which had become rather...crowded. Piles of books on the floor. Piles of paper on my desk. And the floor. And "hiding" under the chaise longue. I love my cozy office, but it wasn't an area I enjoyed being in anymore. It had turned against me. Ha, rewind that. I had turned against it, and it was so overwhelming that I just couldn't get a handle on it, and for me... when I feel overwhelmed, I just sort of selectively unsee messes. Because if I see it, it causes me stress and I want to fix it but I know from experience that it will likely just return to its original state. It feels hopeless. 

Well, I had some extra time over break and was able to get started on organizing and throwing crap out and making a space that I can feel good about. 

What helped? This video: 


She has a whole series of videos on wrangling clutter and reframing the idea that you are just a messy, disorganized person. WARNING: She also has a lot of videos on ADHD and pregnancy because she just had a baby, but you don't have to watch those if they don't apply (I certainly don't). This one was cool because it has an actual resource in the comments -- a worksheet by an organizational design team that is ADHD friendly. SO HELPFUL. 

I will say, I am glad that I had pretty much a full day to dedicate to Operation Office, because if I hadn't had enough time to go start to finish, it would have been a disaster. I could see me lying on the floor, surrounded by crap, in tears and frustrated. But woohoo! Break meant I could do it. (I really have a hard time doing things in stages, it's like an all-or-nothing thing with me, and if I get into a bigger project than I was ready for, there. will. be. tears.) 

Looking for "before" photos was hilarious. Oddly, I don't tend to take pictures of my hideous messes. But here are some sneaky blurry background shots of my giant piles 'o books: 

So this doesn't look too horribly terrible, but it's all TBR and I had it all "organized" pretty by color.


The dark underbelly... if you look behind my shoulder you can see that there is a stack of books on the floor next to the stack on top of the bookcase. And what you can't see is that there are actually four stacks of books on the floor. FOUR. So, from outside the door, you just saw stacks, which was icky, but I couldn't actually see what I had there. It just...lived on the floor.


Oh. My. Gosh. Is that a clear surface I see on top? So, it pained me to do this, but I stacked the books vertically and 2 stacks deep because it is a pretty deep little bookcase and I could fit everything on it this way. The stacks are by genre now, and staggered so I can see everything, and if I can't totally see it, I just slide a stack. And look! Floor! 

Now, my desk. I do not have a picture of it messy, but I can show how it's been organized THRICE in the past year or so, because I can make it pretty but it's so hard to make it sustainably functional. Imagine GIANT piles of papers, mail, and books on either side of my laptop for before shots. 

First Iteration: 
You can kind of see the pile I'm trying to hide on the left, and also pieces I've cut out of my pretty Katie Daisy desk calendar because I was TOTALLY going to use them for something. 

Second Iteration: 

I bought this desk organizer shelf thing after reading a BuzzFeed list (I am a sucker for that stuff) and I actually love it, but you can see how there is crap on the other organizer to the right, and on the desk to the right, and behind my laptop, and there's a pile you can't see to the left of my laptop, and there's some junk hidden behind the sleeping cat. Lucky, you're so cute! I'm trying, but not quite there yet. 

Third Iteration: 
AHHHH! I actually threw out stuff! I rearranged things so that it's useful, but also pleasing, and LOOK AT ALL THAT WORK SPACE! The blue laptop desk pad is another BuzzFeed find, and look how pretty my planbook is. I bought a really organized fancy planbook in the hopes that I'd actually be motivated to use it more often and keep up. I am actually mentally very organized, but paper and things are my enemy. (Also, full disclosure, there is ONE small pile of papers and notebooks on the floor behind my chair that you can't see, but I feel like it's disingenuous not to confess.)

It is wonderful to see empty space. I am hoping it is motivating to try to keep it that way for longer this time. How much time did it take to tackle this? Oh, probably about 7 hours. But it was worth it, and I kept myself off the floor so that I didn't feel tempted to just shut the door and walk away and pretend I don't have an office anymore. 

One last thing -- I did actually get rid of some books. It pained me, because I hate culling books, but in organizing my TBR pile there were a few that I knew I wasn't going to read (either because I'd picked them up and put them right back down, or they were "should" books), and there were a few on my Read shelves that I felt I could let go of. I took a page from Lori Lavender Luz, who had the brilliant idea of driving around to find Free Little Libraries and depositing books like little treasures about town. So we did that, and found four different Little Libraries, including one that was Harry Potter themed (painted gold with the Marauder's Map and "I Solemnly Swear I Am Up To No Good").  It felt really great to be a secret twilight book fairy. 

We are trying to reduce our "stuff" bit by bit, because there's really no one who is going to help us when we're old, no kids/grandkids to take any of our treasures. It stresses me out so much when we have to tackle a room. It feels unsurmountable and overwhelming. But, with the tips from the How to ADHD team and knowing that I did it once and could do it again, I think it's less so. As long as we do one space at a time, and I have absolutely nothing else going on that day. 

It is lovely to have a pretty, functional space, and to know that although I made it a disaster, I also made it something that works for me and makes me happy, not stressed. 

Adoption Unfiltered Podcast: Bucking Societal Pressure and NOT Adopting

I am so excited to share that I had the honor and privilege of being a special guest on Adoption Unfiltered, the podcast (and YouTube channel)! The episode dropped yesterday. You can watch it here (linked to the YouTube channel): 


You can also listen anywhere you get your podcasts, or at the Adoption Unfiltered podcast page. 

It was an amazing conversation with Sara Easterly, Kelsey Vander Vliet Ranyard, and Lori Holden (aka Lori Lavender Luz and my friend!), an adoptee, birth mother, and adoptive parent, respectively. I was on to talk about the pressure of pronatalism, the difficulty when you try to "just adopt" (insert heavy sarcasm here) and find yourself facing a zillion ethical questions and unresolved grief. 

I have always struggled with the idea that maybe I "didn't want a baby bad enough" to stay in the game. But I think this conversation speaks to the push-pull of desperately wanting to be a parent, but discovering that there are intangible costs that we didn't initially realize and couldn't overlook. 

I am not better than anyone else. I didn't find out more about the underbelly of adoption and then say "That's IT! We're out of here!" on purely ethical grounds. We stopped the adoption (waiting) process ultimately because of my health and the toll everything took on my body and my mind. But, we did wait longer in part because we weren't willing to say "baby at any cost" and go beyond our comfort level, which narrowed instead of widened the more we explored beyond the marketing machine. Listening to adoptee voices. Being willing to be uncomfortable. Being willing to really examine our own limitations. Getting familiar with shifting power dynamics. 

Our story is just that -- our story. I can't say what would have happened if things turned out differently, if we had been chosen. I would hope that I would do the same sort of researching, and connecting with people, and listening to voices typically unheard so that I could do my best to do no harm beyond what is inherent in adoption. Because even if you do it really well, which was my hope, there is grief and loss in separating families to make a new one, even when the intentions are good. 

If you are so inclined, give it a listen! Or a watch, if you want to see me making weird faces and hand gestures, which are my specialty side dish to honesty and vulnerability. Thank you in advance! 

Total Eclipse of the...Clouds?

We were so super excited about the total eclipse today -- I feel like we've been planning for at least a year. It was really cool, but it was also an exercise in practicing being appreciative in the face of disappointments (which so many of us are REALLY good at, unfortunately). 

1) My best friend was supposed to come up with her husband and 3 teenage kids and camp out on our floors and couches. They were in a 93% area, but wanted to see totality. We were nervous about having so much activity in our very, very quiet house, but we were ready. Until my best friend got sick. She's been super stressed lately, and her body picked this moment to just need total rest. So, she needed to take care of herself, but it was disappointing. (And we have SO MUCH FOOD, thankfully a lot of snacky frozen things, but we are ROLLING in snacks and should have a party.)

2) Apparently 500,000 people were expected to come to Rochester, NY, where I live. So we made plans to not go anywhere. And for a while it seemed weird, like...we are one of the cloudiest cities in the country...why would you come here if there were other choices? But, Rochester is also very unpredictable with weather thanks to Lake Ontario, so maybe we'd get lucky. 

3) We did not get lucky. Yesterday was absolutely gorgeous, blue skies, just a perfect early spring day. Today looked like this: 

This is actually during the first half of the eclipse, so the clouds do look kind of funky, but STILL.

 We tried so hard to be excited and will the sun to come out. I wore a sparkly eclipse outfit: 


We got a split of champagne: 


And then it just. didn't. clear. up. Here is Bryce, trying to get his pinhole viewer to work (because it was so cloudy we didn't need our glasses): 


It did a great job of projecting...clouds. 

We were super bummed.


4) But, the light did get subtly weirder, until totality happened. Even with clouds, it was FREAKY. And cool, so cool. It was like a curtain of darkness just went SWOOSH over us. It happened super fast. I can see why people used to think it meant end times. That would scare the bejeezus out of you if you didn't know it was coming.

Maybe 15 minutes before, the clouds got real weird.

Holy crap! It was dark, like PITCH dark

And then it started getting light a few minutes later, but it felt long.

It would have been really cool to see the whole thing, clearly. It would have been amazing to see the sky turn dark and stars come out at 3:20 pm. But, it was actually pretty darn cool. The temperature dropped about 10 degrees in just a few minutes. Seeing the birds roosting when it was getting dark and then seeing freaked-out moths making a beeline for cover when it suddenly got light out again was entertaining. The irony: my best friend may have had 93% and no totality, but she had sunny, clear skies. Totality was awesome, but probably not worth a road trip under cloud cover.

We ended up having a good time, even with the clouds. 



OB/GYN Office Experiences

Mel at Stirrup Queens wrote a post recently about a question that's been out there for a very long time -- should OB/GYN offices have two waiting rooms, one for pregnant people and one for not? It brings up interesting points, like whether or not separate waiting rooms would actually be compassionate, or if it would feel even more "othering." It made me think about my experiences with OB/GYNs throughout the years, and how each office made me feel, and my comment length turned into post material, so here are my thoughts. 

Early OB/GYN Experiences
My first annual exam was when I was a teenager, I don't remember exactly when but I feel like early teens? I had a woman doctor at the time who was a pediatrician but also could do gynecological things, and what I remember most was that in my VERY FIRST experience with stirrups and speculums, she asked if it was okay if a group of interns were in the room, and I said, "ok, fine, the more the merrier" (I'm pretty sure those were my exact words), because it was awkward enough to begin with and why not make it more so for the sake of education? I had this doctor through at least the start of college, and she prescribed me birth control not as much for sex (although in college that became a need) but because my periods were so damn irregular. Like, could be 45 days, 60 days, 120 days, as long as 9 months before I would get it, and then it would be a 2-week horror show. The Pill definitely helped, but it also masked a lot that would come up later. 

My next OB/GYN was my mom's adult one, and he was a dick. Very much the stereotypical "I am a doctor so I know what I'm doing and I'm going to make you feel like you don't know anything about your own body." This is a doctor who asked me questions that I didn't realize at the time were fishing for PCOS symptoms, which by the way I HAD PCOS, but were not at all compassionate to the fact that I was young and self-conscious about those things. One of two horrible memories is having him ask if I had excess body hair, and I said "um, no" but then when he did the exam he said with disgust, "YOU CLEARLY SHAVE YOUR BELLY BUTTON AREA" and didn't understand that this was a source of shame, but didn't add anything to my chart. Sigh. Second horrible memory -- he finally listened to me that I had horrible pelvic pain and did a laparoscopy to explore for endometriosis, didn't find any, and seemed pissed at me, saying, "Well, there's nothing there. Some women just have pain." EW. So I lived with pain, even with the Pill, for well over a decade with no answers and no one who seemed to even want to look for answers. 

The Next OB/GYN Office I Remember, in my 20s and early 30s
I went to an office where the doctor was female (I was like NO MORE MALE DOCTORS, THANKYOUVERYMUCH), but she was also pretty no nonsense and fairly blunt. She did help me with finding different versions of the Pill that helped with breakthrough bleeding and migraines. I didn't have an issue with her. UNTIL. 

When I met Bryce and we got serious, I asked about my fertility, around 32. Well, actually, I asked about his fertility and brought in copies of old sperm data from when he had tried IUI with his ex-wife to no avail (with his consent, of course). She looked at it and said, "oh yeah, I can write you a referral to a fertility clinic for testing and things, you'll likely just need some basting." Which is one hell of a way to suggest that artificial insemination was going to be our first line of attack in the babymaking process. In a way though, I appreciated the bluntness because it meant that we wouldn't have to suffer through trying on our own when that was clearly a no-go. 

So, we got a consultation when I was 33, before we got married, so we could start right away. And the first year of IUI was, of course, fruitless. Because in addition to the male factor, I had PCOS, which blew my mind that LITERALLY NO ONE HAD DIAGNOSED despite my having a zillion markers for it. I guess because I didn't 'fess up to shaving my bellybutton? WTF. 

Every appointment after that I grew more and more aware of two things -- the waiting room that was clearly designed with young families in mind (toys, a coloring table, loads of pregnant people) and then that the bluntness of my doctor was actually a complete lack of empathy. She kept saying at each appointment, "still not pregnant yet?" and when I explained all the developments and then the Great Embryo Whittling phenomenon, she was like "That's so WEIRD. I would have thought this would have worked for you by now." Needless to say I found a different doctor, but after too many appointments that left me in tears. 

The Pregnancy Shrine Office
I had recommendations from others that there was another office, that was a little woo-woo, but that the doctor was very compassionate and fertility-conscious. So I jumped ship and went there. Because, no one has figured out yet (at least at the time I went through it) that if you are getting poked and prodded extremely regularly by a fertility clinic full of OB/GYNs, MAYBE THEY SHOULD ALSO DO YOUR PAP SMEAR SO YOU ONLY HAVE ONE SET OF SPECULUMS TO DEAL WITH. 

I was fully in denial of our situation and 100% thinking that we were going to get pregnant, that we were closer all the time, despite the ectopic and then the miscarriage, so the decor didn't bother me. At first. Basically, you walked in to a spa-like atmosphere, replete with a fountain and soothing music, but if you looked around... it was full of paintings, statuary, friezes... all representative of pregnancy and breastfeeding. Which I'm guessing doesn't bother you too much when that is your experience and it's all very typical, but for me it was insanely painful. They did, however, have two waiting room areas, and I asked to go to the alcove one after a few stoic appointments where I was overwhelmed by sensory stimuli taunting my barrenness. it still had one frieze, but just one. Three other problems with this office -- first, after my miscarriage, while explaining where I was at with egg donor and all that, I was in a room right next door to someone hearing their baby's heartbeat for the first time. The walls were thin so I could hear the swoosh swoosh swoosh that I never heard (and never would), but also the happiness. It gutted me. Second, I came in and who had joined the practice? THE BLUNT DOCTOR. Holy crap. Noooo. All I could think was, if I get pregnant and anyone in the practice can deliver, I DO NOT want this lady in my business. Third, in an attempt to not drive to Buffalo all the time, I had a partnership with this office and the Buffalo clinic where I could do initial monitoring in Rochester. This was after egg donor failed, so I was back to my own eggs but with donor sperm. It was my first cycle with the new clinic, and I tried to explain that I was prone to OHSS and that the dose of injectibles they had me on was too high too fast and I was in danger of being cancelled, and while the OB/GYN office was lovely they really were very new to monitoring multiple eggs at once at the IVF scale, and that first cycle was cancelled, just as I'd predicted. I ended up sucking it up and driving to Buffalo to have an actual Reproductive Endocrinologist check on my eggles for the next year. I decided that it was too awkward to keep going to this practice after a while, and it felt the doctor became a little more invested in my future pregnancy than my actual ladyparts health. So, I switched back to the practice I'd been at with the blunt lady since obviously she wasn't there anymore. 

Old Practice, New Doctor, End of Treatment
Not going to lie, the toys and pregnancy/baby magazines and beatific pregnant people waiting for another peek at their precious cargo hurt SO MUCH MORE this time around. But I was seeing a very kind and understanding doctor, who was actually male, but LISTENED and was compassionate when I was reduced to sobbing about our increasingly dire and then nonexistent treatment. This doctor told me that he used to do private adoptions, that he would match up people and use a local attorney, and it was too bad he didn't do that anymore but that he was sure adoption would "work" for us. (Side note: this type of private adoption now horrifies me because of reading stories in Adoption Unfiltered by Sara Easterly, Kelsey Vander Vliet Barnyard, and Lori Holden; and also American Baby by Gabrielle Glazer. Those arrangements were often ethically nebulous and resulted in a lot of trauma.) 

It was through this office that I tried progesterone-based Pill for period management, which didn't work, and Depo Provera, which totally didn't work, and he eventually referred me to a local doctor who was known for a highly successful procedure called endomyometrial resection, which was one better than ablation since instead of burning and having a relatively high failure rate, this was surgically removing the entire lining plus the root layer of muscle, and had very high rates of success and prevented hysterectomy. HAHAHA. 

A New Practice, Just GYN, HALLELUJAH
I went to this new doctor with the new procedure he'd been doing, and while there was definitely a sense of "I am very godlike and amazing" that proved prescient to later events, he listened and he agreed to do the resection. Which was BRUTAL, but gave me relief for about a year. 

What was amazing about this practice, that I went to exclusively until I had to leave for ethical reasons, was that it was JUST GYN. It was also a center for reproductive choice, so if you were there and you were pregnant, there was no beatific bump-patting at all, because typically there was no bump, because you were there for termination. Which explained the bulletproof glass in front of the reception area, which was a little nerve-wracking because the waiting room wasn't nearly as protected, but it was worth it. 

Unfortunately, two things happened. My resection failed spectacularly: lining grew back about 2 years in, and when your uterus is scarred on purpose and your cervix is covered, there is no escape hatch for blood trying to escape, so you basically have contractions. It was horrible. My choices were a) do another resection or b) have a hysterectomy. Oh, 100% Door # 2. At this point I said, "I am squarely in the camp of it something weird can happen, it will happen, so I'm not going through that again just to have it fail again. Get that nasty pear out of me." So I did, which irritated the doctor visibly as he was in the business of preventing/delaying hysterectomy, so I couldn't help but feel that I was a disappointment somehow, but the hysterectomy was AWESOME and I don't regret it at all. And, I kept going to that office, because they were a GYN office and I enjoyed very much that it wasn't pregnancy-focused. 

Problem #2 that resulted in my fleeing the practice, was that I was scrolling in my Google Feed, and an article came up with my doctor's face on it. Apparently DNA ancestry testing resulted in a whole bunch of people finding out that their parents used a sperm donor in the 1990s, and while they were told one thing, the person who ACTUALLY donated the sperm without anyone's knowledge was....my doctor. Oh FUCK no. It made international news. It did not result in him losing his license. It did result in some lawsuits. But I also was like, I CANNOT continue going to this doctor. So I asked around for recommendations, and jumped ship. AGAIN. 

The Current Practice: The Best of Everything
I went back to a female practice. And this practice is great, because they listen, they are thorough, but they are not hugely pregnancy focused. There's the occasional poster, but that's it. They actually see more people for gender care than for pregnancy. Which I appreciate on many levels. I am far more likely to be in the waiting room with a trans man than a pregnant woman. And everyone in this practice reads my chart. They know my story. I don't have to rehash it all the time. The waiting room is bright, and welcoming, and part of a larger complex of services. I love this office. 


So that's it, my timeline of OB/GYN offices. I think what I wish was that there were defined practices for different needs, different specialties -- so you go to one when you're younger and need sexual health and period health, and one when you are in childbearing years if you are childbearing, but with two doors, one for pregnant people and one for people who are not yet (and may never be), and one for perimenopause to menopause, because your needs are different then. Maybe it could be like my current practice, and there's a different office space in a larger complex that can meet all those needs, but compartmentalized. It just blows my mind that pregnancy is a pretty small part of women's healthcare over a lifetime, but it becomes 100% the focus of so many practices (thank you, pronatalism). And, to boot, I would love for people who treat younger women to have an eye out for fertility-related problems and to be knowledgeable about period dysfunction and the implications. I could have been saved a lot of grief if I'd been seen by someone competent in when things go wrong with your reproductive system, well before I tried to have a baby. 

I wonder if this Practice of the Future is even economically viable, but gracious I would love to see that. A sort of integrated medicine for gynecological needs. I definitely would have benefitted from that, and I know I'm not alone. Thank you, Mel, for getting me thinking on this! 



Trauma Response

I am officially on spring break, so of course I scheduled doctor's appointments. I see the knee surgeon tomorrow about my non-titanium knee, which has been a bit less collapse-y but still not right. Can you guess what appointment I had today that left me feeling drained, exhausted, and a bit weepy?

Ten points to Ravenclaw if you guessed my annual exam at the GYN. 

I get an ultrasound with my annual to soothe my wretched anxiety around my ovaries. Because I fruitlessly pumped them full of estrogen for years to harvest eggs, some of which became embryos, none of which became babies...I worry that they will turn around and try to kill me. So I like to keep tabs on them, since ovaries gone bad are sneaky and there's no mammogram-like screening for them. 

All was good, although when I explained my reasoning for the ultrasound to the technician, she was like, "oh no, you must think positively!" Uhhhh, yeahhhhhhh. 

I didn't have to explain that I had no uterus since she actually read my chart, which was refreshing, but she did ask why I was so young to have had a hysterectomy. So I got to explain that story (minus the fact that the doctor who did my endomyometrial resection was all over the news for using his own sperm instead of the donors he told women were the source and was caught by 23 and Me when those resulting babies were adults, and then he died in a plane crash last year). I said fertility treatment was likely never going to work for me, because it turned out I had adenomyosis, so my lining was all through the very thick walls of my uterus, but I didn't know that until the offending organ was out. 

And then she told me that high end ultrasound machines can now diagnose adenomyosis. Which is great for future humans... Not so much for me. 

Can you believe my blood pressure was high when I went in afterward for my actual annual?

I felt tired and gross after all the poking and prodding. I was all out of sorts the rest of today. It is so crazy how your body totally remembers. How that appointment set off an exhaustion that initially felt unwarranted, until I remembered -- oh yeah, this is all kinds of triggering. I forget until GYN appointments and blood draws how much this lives in my body, even though my last cycle was in January of 2015, almost 10 years ago. 

I took a nap. I really had nothing I had to do today. I feel better now, but I'm really glad that's only a once a year thing.