Just Call Me McNeedy

Lately we’ve been calling McNulty, our kitten, “McNeedy” (he's going through a clingy phase). I think that’s a pretty accurate name for me as well. I just can’t seem to climb out of this funk I’ve been in. I’m starting to think that a lot of it is hormonal.

It’s been a long time since I posted. I’ve been feeling very low, very depressed, and pretty damn antisocial. J’s been home a lot the last week, which has been great, but also has gotten in the way of my blogging.

So I was all set to post today, because I feel like it’s rude to just lay out a post like my last one and not follow up. But then last night I sliced my index finger open, because I forgot that knives are not only sharp when you’re chopping, but also when you’re cleaning them. I’m still hoping it’s going to heal without stitches.

What that means is that this is going to be brief, because typing hurts. Here’s what’s up:

1. Fucking crap-ass insurance company is hosing me. After telling me on the phone that of course an FET would be covered, I learn that it is not. The same day, I learn that my $3,500 FET is actually $5,000, because my blasts need assisted hatching. So now, counting the freezing, we’re at $7,000 for this cycle. The cycle I really don’t think will work. And I learn all this the hard way, after the incompetent ho-bitch who handles insurance at my RE’s office fails to tell me that the insurance has given her a final answer, and fails to tell me the full amount, before I go in for a mid-cycle sono. So there I am standing in the hallway about to go into the sono room and she’s yelling down the hallway that I can’t have my sono because I don’t have authorization. And I'm yelling at her that she can't stop my progress mid-cycle, and perhaps she should have told me that I would have to lay out five grand that morning. And she doesn’t believe that I’m already into my cycle, and that she said that was okay. And she thinks she DID tell me that I had to pay that day. Luckily, our shouting match was in front of my RE, who was appalled. She gave us the name of the office manager to contact about all the problems we’ve had with this person. But the bottom line is that I had to lay out another $5,000 today.

2. Estrogen is not my friend. I thought this FET cycle would be a breeze, because I’d been on these drugs before. But the quantity makes a difference I guess. Three estrogen pills a day now, and they are fucking me up big time. Every time I had to increase the amount I would get horrible headaches. And even now that those have passed, I’m dealing with awful mood swings, depression, fatigue, and overall bitchiness. God, I hate the bitchiness. Isn’t all this bad enough without me having to hate myself on top of it?

3. J and I seem distant. We’ve been spending a lot more time together, but I’m still feeling like we’re on two different tracks. Both heading in the same direction, but not on the journey together. He agrees, but doesn’t know what to do to fix it. He says it’s something we just need to ride out to the end. I told him that I don’t think we can do that—what if this takes a year or more? I suspect the problem is that he’s depressed, and it’s making him withdrawn. But I don’t think he’s ever been depressed, the real kind of depression, in his life. I’m not convinced he knows how to handle it.

I meant to be in a better mood when I wrote. Every day I try to pull out of this pit, to start feeling better. Not only is this depression and overall anger not good for me, I think it could actually reduce my chances of having this FET work. I just have to mellow out, cheer up, at the very least find some contentment and peace in life. So far, though, I’m failing miserably at that.