A fish out of water

I feel like a fish out of what.

Well, I think that is how I feel. I am not real sure how a fish out of water really feels.

But if the feeling is difficulty breathing and only focusing on getting back to the water, then yes, that is how I feel.

All I want right now is for us to go back to our drama free lives. We were so happy sans drama.  Just a few days ago.

Just a few days ago, none of this was going on.

I am writing this while sitting on a hard examination bed, in a small bleak room at my breast specialist.  

Half naked with a flimsy paper gown on, that has to be open to the front, the ac turned down to freezing and an IV stuck in my hand with a syringe taped down to my hand.

This is all after the nurse missing the first stick of the IV in my arm and having to do it again in my hand.

Really, really??

How do you f-ing miss my vein?

This is what you do all damn day, I wanted to yell.

But I didn’t.  I didn’t say anything out loud.  I just prayed quietly in my heart hoping this somehow wasn’t real.

Before this hurrah at this office began, Eric and I already had a very rough morning.

We went to the fertility specialist to talk with her nurse about our situation.

As I said before, this is the hardest part for me from all this is the thought of not being able to have another baby.

Again, we received so much information in such a little time frame, a time frame in which tears were shed and laughs occurred.

I am not sure how to put into words how I feel about the possibility of me not being able to have another child.

It isn’t that I don’t feel 100% complete with our family of 3 because I do. And I know if Ian has to grow up without a brother or sister, he has a ton of little friends down in Austin, cousins in Fort Worth and Michigan.

It is just one of the hardest things to hear that I might not be able to give him a brother or sister. I can’t imagine my life without my sister and I look at my nieces and nephews and can’t imagine them without the other.

So there we sat, with this chart of expenses in front of us and all I can think is, how can we put a price on this decision?

Price aside, I have to figure out what my odds are going to be for me to carry a baby?

After lengthy discussion with Eric, we are both in agreement that we don’t want a sergeant to carry our child. So, all this is going to ride on what type of cancer I have. If it is estrogen driven, I am fairly certain, I will not be able to even carry a child. But then if it is DNA type, I THINK I would possibly be able to carry. And of course, no matter what type it is, a lot will depend on the chemo treatment I receive and if it throws me into early menopause.

Really? REALLY??

I might go through menopause before my mom? Nice, I guess I will be able to give her helpful!

No matter what we look at here, how we make this decision, I am certain this will be one of the most difficult decisions we will ever have to make.

I just keep thinking, what if she tells me, you won’t be able to carry a child and then by some huge miracle, I would be able to but we didn’t freeze any embryos? Or what if we freeze 10 embryos, and then I can’t carry a child?

All I can think about is what if I am leaving 10 kids frozen in time?

What are my beliefs here and how do I figure them out in 24 hours.

And I just don’t think there is anyone who can help me decide this.

Only my heart and my heart is so torn right now I don’t know what to think.

All I know is that we have to decide soon.  Like in two days soon. I either start the medicine now or I don’t.

There are so many balls in the air right now for me, Eric and us to try to catch, exam and throw back up and keep the juggling act going.

This has been a hard day.

 

 

This post was one from the very beginning of this whole cancer journey. So much as changed with me going back and reading this again.