Wednesday, July 22, 2015
The doctor persuaded me to get some injections. I was at this time in an “easy to handle” mode, when you just say: “I don`t mind” to everything. So I didn’t object when he wrote the prescription and gave me an appointment.
I woke up from this condition only the next day, when I went to the internet for tips and some encouragement from the girls on the infertility site. I asked them, how bad this shot is, that you get in your ass. In my mind`s eye, I saw huge blue bumps on my rear-end, that were caused from an infection from the shot.
I got more answers. One of them wrote to me, that the shot would not hurt; I should not be worried about it. Another one said it would hurt a little bit, and the third told me that pain would be something, that I would have to deal with when I would have a baby.
I had no choice: after taking the extra high dose of the drug and taking the ultrasound, I got my first medical shot in my butt. “You have got a slinky ass!” said the nurse, a woman in her 50´s, not a skinny one to me and added to this sentence: “That is not good news here!”
But she successfully gave me the shot, it really didn’t hurt me. We had to make love the next day and the day after, “the more the better”, like the doctor said. Before his time, we had to have no sex for five days, he ordered.
Sunday, July 19, 2015
Monday, July 6, 2015
What kind of clothes does someone wear for an introductory meeting with their psychologist? I pondered the options thoroughly. I did not want to go in too rigid, formal clothes, I would cry anyway, so that would be a ridiculous, hollow disguise. But I did not want to seem to be like a little girl either, wearing some little dress, like something I would wear on weekends.
Finally I decided to wear jeans and a slim-fit striped blouse. I did not want to dress up too much, but I wanted to look decent. Like the models in Vogue on the way from one fashion show to another. But of course I had to wear a push-up bra. I had not gone anywhere without it for a long time. I tied my hair and put on a light make-up.
Lovászi’s private practice was located downtown, and the smell of incense sticks and a bit meditative music welcomed me there. It was Enya perhaps. I shook hands with the psychologist whose picture I had seen on the web somewhat stunned. I really liked his CV. Originally he was a programmer, like my husband, and later he worked as a scriptwriter, which is, to some extent, related to what I did at that time.
I liked that he had tried different things, just like me.
I felt a bit embarrassed, but I sat down and told him to turn that music off if possible. “It makes me upset”, I told him. So I introduced myself to my brand-new psychologist in about a minute.
But from then on, everything went well. We talked about my family. A bit afraid, I said a few bad things about my mother. I was afraid, because I still had the feeling that one should not say bad things about their mother. She couldn't be bad. Only me.
After this, he told me his theory. He had had several patients similar to me. Similar in the sense that the women could not get pregnant. And also in having been together with their partners for a long time. After such a long time, feelings towards each other are more like between siblings.
“What do you feel? Are you still a woman in this relationship?” he asked me. “Do you always dress the same way? Wearing trousers, tying your hair?”
I felt deeply offended. This stranger looks at me and immediately thinks that we are suffering from the “old married couple syndrome”, meaning that my husband does not want me anymore, when I am not even thirty yet, and I only gained 7lbs since we were together, even that because I tried very hard to put on some weight.
“Why, do you think real women always wear skirts and high-heels?” I asked back with some sass. It made me very upset that having told him my childhood and my sister’s condition, he said that.
“I had a patient whose situation was very similar to yours. Although there it was the woman, who became a bit uncertain, but she found her way back to the relationship.
“Do you think this is the root of my problems?!” I could not believe my ears. “And what I told about you my family, is that nothing?!”
I was disappointed. The situation was the same as with the gynaecologist. We had a protocol here as well. At the gynaecologist, the protocol said that I should get my period every 28 days, I should ovulate on the 14th day, my progesterone level should be over 21, and so on. The aim of my gynaecologist was to achieve these, and when we succeeded, he was very satisfied. After every single unsuccessful cycle he was happy about the good results of the blood test. Once, when I was running out of patience, I told him that unfortunately I cannot put these achievements into a cradle.
It seems that there is a certain path to follow at the therapy as well…
I went home with mixed feelings, but I was proud that I did not cry. I did not want to pity myself.