Comments (10)

By shannon, June 16, 2010 10:54 am

It’s all really happening.  It’s been three long years, countless pregnancy tests (all negative), and more ups and downs than I care to remember.

You guys know all about our struggle with infertility.  Since that first appointment at the fertility practice (I can’t believe that was only three months ago!), I’ve had blood tests and ultrasounds (condom cam!) and surgery and awful procedures (HSG, anyone?).  I’ve taken drugs (Clomid, Follistim, and tonight, Ovidrel) that have made me hot and cold at the same time.  I’ve worked my ass off to get my A1c down to an acceptable pre-pregnancy number. 

Now, all of the hard work and anticipation is over.  Now, it’s up to my body and some (hopefully) strong swimmers.  Because tomorrow and Friday, I get inseminated.  Yeah, you know how sexy that sounds, right?  But, the fact is that with our fertility issues, an Intra Uterine Insemination (IUI) is really our only option.  We could continue to try “the old fashioned way” for years, but it wouldn’t work.

This morning, I had my blood drawn and an ultrasound to check the status of my superovulation (basically, forcing my body to mature and release more than one egg).  I don’t have the bloodwork results yet, but the ultrasound showed what appeared to be four mature follicles.  This is exactly the sort of result we were hoping for.

So, tomorrow morning at 9:30ish, I will have my first of two IUIs.  I have no idea what to expect (do I get a martini before and a cigarette after?), but I’m very excited.  Brian and I will make the drive from our home to Rockville (where the BIG fertility office is). 

On Friday, we’ll repeat the process.  I LOVE that they do two IUIs instead of the usual one.  It’s a pain in the ass to drive all the way to Rockville two days in a row, but I’ll do it without complaint.

What makes this timing even more special is the fact that Friday is my sister’s birthday.  NOTHING would make me happier than to conceive her niece or nephew on her birthday.  When I spoke with her this morning, although “high” on morphine, she was very excited and hopeful. 

Wish me luck, guys.  The odds aren’t great (roughly 20% conceive on the first try), but I’m optimistic.  I really feel like it’s our turn.

Comments (10)

By shannon, June 15, 2010 9:48 am

I love my endo.  I know I’ve said this before, but it bears repeating. 

Let me back up.  Yesterday, I had my usual quarterly appointment with Dr. S.  I was feeling fairly pessimistic about the results of my labs, and I was afraid he’d not be on board with the whole fertility thing (more on that later).

So, when the first words out of his mouth were “your labs look great,” I was relieved.  And, frankly, shocked.  After my last A1c disaster, I was expecting a decline, but certainly not as much as it really was. 

“Your A1c is 6.7%.” 

<side note> On the same day that I had my A1c done, I used one of those Bayer At-Home A1c kits.  The result from the Bayer test was 7.2%, which tells me that these at-home tests are not as accurate as we need them to be. </side note>

“Your kidney function is great, and your cholesterol is only slightly elevated.”  This is significant because I’ve been off of Lipitor for a few months.  “Overall, everything looks great.” 

Next, we reviewed my Dexcom reports (I always bring my netbook with me so that he can choose which reports he wants to see).  Other than some possible basal tweaking at bedtime, we agreed that my insulin usage is pretty good.  But, then we talked about my propensity for SWAGing.  He reiterated that I need to count carbs more accurately, which I’ve known for, well, ever.  “It’s just a discipline thing,” I told him.  Just like logging, measuring food and counting carbs accurately is a chore, but one that must be done.

He asked me if I thought I should see the CDE to get some carb counting lessons, and while I think I might need it, I told him that I wanted to wait until the next appointment to see if I’ve improved on my own.  He agreed.

Next, we started talking about the fertility craziness.  I told him that I was having an IUI done this cycle, and that, if all goes well, I’ll be pregnant the next time he sees me.  I told him about the disastrous appointment with the high-risk OB.  He actually offered to write a letter explaining that achieving a BG of 60-80 is a recipe for disaster for a T1.  He said that it often comes down to an education thing with other doctors – they assume that T1s are the same as T2s and gestational patients.  Obviously, they’re not. 

Then, he started talking about things like “what to do with my pump during delivery” and “my insulin needs increasing throughout the pregnancy.”  I joked that I’d wear my Omnipod AND Minimed pumps at the same time to handle the insulin needs.  He laughed, but started to think it was actually a novel idea.  It was so great that he not only gave me the green light to move forward with the IUI (not that he would have stopped me), but also that he was talking as if becoming pregnant was a foregone conclusion.  It suddenly felt very real.

Basically, he bottom-lined it for me: “You know what you need to do, Shannon.  You’ve got all the tools you need and the education to use them properly.”  He’s right, of course.  I do know what I need to do, and now that I’ve got a solid pre-conception A1c, I’m going to do it.  I feel oddly energized and optimistic about my D-life. 

So, he wants to see me in two months; sooner if the IUI works.  Although he’s booked solid through late August, he’s promised to squeeze me in if I get pregnant.  As I wrote above, I love my endo!

Comments (12)

By shannon, June 3, 2010 2:09 pm

Dear Avis,

I was a good customer.  Sure, I booked through Priceline.com, but in these tough economic times, a girl’s gotta do … well, you know.

You see, this was not a pleasure trip.  I was in Florida visiting my very ill sister.  We only rented the car because we didn’t want to trouble anyone with picking us up or dropping us off at the airport.  It wasn’t like I got the car for free, either.  I paid $250 for just a few days’ use.

And I didn’t even complain when, despite my confirmed rental for a mid-size car, you gave me a Ford Focus.  Honestly, it was a cool little car.  But let’s face it, it is a compact car, at best.  Nope, I didn’t complain at all.

Just as we were instructed, we filled the gas tank up before returning the Focus.  We stopped at the gas station at 4:30ish in the morning, bleary-eyed and sad.  At the airport, we left the car in the designated parking space and dropped the keys in the “after hours” box. 

I thought our business had concluded.  I was wrong.

When I saw that you charged my credit card $46.55, I assumed it was a mistake.  I called your customer service line, and the nice lady told me that I was charged for fuel.  I told her that the car was returned with a full tank, but my word means nothing to you.  I was told that I would have to fax a receipt to PROVE that I purchased gas that morning.  But as luck would (not) have it, we didn’t get a receipt that morning.  Sure, I have my bank statement, but it doesn’t show the city or the time of the gas purchase, just that I made a gas purchase on 6/1/2010.

When I called your customer service number again, I got a different lady, and she was not-so-nice.  She said that without proof, you can’t reverse the charge.  Now, I understand this … I really do.  But what pisses me off is that I do not have the time to play PI and hunt down credit card information for you because (a) some incompetent asshole made a mistake when her or she entered the information into the computer, or (b) you are trying to scam people.

So, the not-so-nice lady told me that if I didn’t like it, “dispute it with your credit card.”  When I told her that I would, and that the entire situation was “unacceptable,”  she essentially said too bad.  I told her that I would NEVER rent from you again, and that I would make sure EVERYONE I know is aware of your shady business practices.  With attitude, she thanked me for renting with Avis.

Oh, and I did dispute that charge with Bank of America.  I won’t be paying that $46.55.  And if even one of my readers thinks twice before renting from Avis, I know I’ll have fulfilled my responsibility.

In the meantime, I’d like to extend you a great, big ladadeeda.com FUCK YOU, Avis.  May you rot in hell.

Sincerely,

Shannon

Comments (4)

By shannon, May 27, 2010 9:36 am

Dear American Idol,

I’ve got to be honest; I’ve never liked you.  I saw part of an episode a few years ago that left me wondering what all the hype was about. Then, you started showing all of the “bad” auditions, which I’m not convinced aren’t staged.  I mean, seriously?  Are we supposed to believe that these people actually think they’re good?

I’ve shunned you for years because I think there’s more to music than a singer’s vocal range.  I can’t stand it when a so-called singer butchers a song in an effort to demonstrate his or her singing abilities.  The Star Spangled Banner is not an R&B song.  And, since this is the type of singer you most often attract, you really held no appeal for me.

Then, I heard about Crystal Bowersox.  See, like Crystal, I’m a type 1 diabetic.  I know how difficult it is to live (and succeed) with this disease, and I was curious about her.  My expectations were low; I admit it. But then I saw a few youtube clips of her performances, and I knew that she had something … that elusive originality.  She is a true talent.  And she’s even a single mom, too!

So, last week, when I heard that Crystal was one of the final two, I decided to watch the final episodes.  I watched her perform on Tuesday night, and I was floored.  This girl is the real deal, with talent oozing from every pore.  The other guy?  Lee? Yeah, he’s not bad.  But, he is not even in the same league as Crystal.

Last night, as I was packing for my trip to Florida, I left the TV on in the background.  I absently listened to the performances.

<side note> WTF was with changing the lyrics to Alanis Morissette’s You Outta Know?  Seriously, you really had to change it to “go down with you to the theater?” Really?  </side note>

I wasn’t even paying attention until the end.  And when you finally let pretty boy announce the winner, I was appalled.  Then I remembered that this is why I don’t watch you in the first place.  Your show is about who’s the cutest or the most popular (hmm, kinda like high school), not about who is the most talented.

So, I’ll not waste another minute on your absurdity.  You had a golden opportunity to redeem yourself in my eyes, and you failed miserably.

Sincerely,

Shannon

Comments (6)

By shannon, May 25, 2010 12:26 pm

I know my blogging has been sporadic, at best, lately.  Between everything going on with my sister, a gazillion doctor’s (and dentist) appointments, and all of the TTC craziness, I’m just all over the map.

Seriously, I have enough material to write three separate blogs – I just can’t seem to get any of it out of my head.

So, to my loyal readers (both of you), please bear with me!  I will be better; I promise.

Comments (8)

By shannon, May 20, 2010 11:20 am

Hello, I’m Shannon’s Dexcom Seven Plus receiver.  While I prefer to be addressed by Shannon’s pet name for me, “The Greatest Invention Ever,” for the purpose of this guest post, you can call me “Dex.”

I’m writing for Shannon today because she’s still not feeling all that well.  On Tuesday, we had us an adventure, and I got a front-row seat to the whole thing.

A few weeks ago, when Shannon had her HSG done, her doctor noticed something strange in her uterus.  The doctor said it was a polyp and that it should be removed before any attempts at fertility treatments. 

Since I spend most of my time in Shannon’s pocket or her purse, I hear everything.  I heard that the procedure to remove the polyp is called a hysteroscopy with D&C.  I heard that it’s done under general anesthesia in an operating room, but you don’t have to stay in the hospital overnight or anything – they called it “outpatient.” 

Shannon was nervous, as she always is when she is unfamiliar with something.  But, on Tuesday morning, she slept late, showered, and got ready for her appointment.  Her husband, Brian, drove us to the hospital, and the nice people there greeted us as we arrived.

We were led to the “pre-op” area where they made Shannon put on one of those awful hospital gowns.  She also had to put a funny blue hat on her head and funny blue booties on her feet.  I thought she looked ridiculous, but Brian said she looked beautiful. 

Then we waited.  One of the nurses came over to ask if Shannon had checked her blood sugar lately.  This is when I made my first “official” appearance.  When Shannon showed the nurse what I do, I saw excitement in her eyes.  Shannon asked if I could go into the OR with her, and after checking with the doctor, the nurse said that I could.  I was stoked!

Next, the anesthesiologist came into the room.  He checked me out, too.  Shannon thought that it might make sense for me to hang with him during the procedure since he would have the closest access to her IV and be able to administer glucose, if needed.  He agreed, so Shannon showed him how I work.  He was gentle when he pressed my buttons, which made me feel a lot better.  I don’t like it when children or other “careless” people handle me – they are much too rough for my delicate genius. 

After her IV was inserted and some anti-nausea drug called Zofran was given, the anesthesiologist said that he would give Shannon another drug during the surgery called Decadron.  Right away, Shannon and I both became alert.  “Won’t Decadron raise my blood sugar?” Shannon asked.  The doc said that it shouldn’t affect it too much because of the low dose.  Skeptical, Shannon and I prepared for a bumpy ride.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, it was showtime.  They asked Shannon to walk into the OR herself, while the nurse carried me over to the anesthesiologist’s table.  Once I was settled, I saw them help position Shannon on the table.  They had her put her legs in these weird stirrup things and strapped her arms straight out.  She looked like a Thanksgiving turkey all trussed up like that.  I tried not to laugh because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.  But, in the end, she just looked so damned funny that I couldn’t help it.

Shannon glared in my direction and saw that the anesthesiologist was injecting something into her IV.  A few seconds later, she was asleep.  That’s when things got rolling in the OR. 

The doctor came in and looked at the ultrasound film to get the general location of the polyp.  Then, she inserted this long camera thing right through Shannon’s cervix and into her uterus.  It was so cool because I could see everything that the camera saw on this TV next to the bed. 

There was lots of technical talk and things that I didn’t understand.  The doctor did something called Dilation and Curettage to remove the polyp.  It all seemed to go smoothly, and like a good Dex, I was quiet throughout the procedure.  The anesthesiologist did check on me once to make sure that I was still working (doubter!), but after that, he left me alone. 

When the D&C was over, they gently removed Shannon’s legs from the stirrup things, unstrapped her arms, and placed her comfortably on the bed thing (it’s not really a bed, but it’s not really a cot, either).  They covered her with a blanket and put me on her belly.  Then, they rolled her back to her room where they monitored her blood pressure (it was excellent), the oxygen saturation in her blood (also excellent), and her breathing. 

Slowly, Shannon began to wake up.  They called her name a few times, and then Brian was there.  He held her hand as she slowly opened her eyes.  She said that she felt some pain, so they injected something into her IV.  She seemed pretty happy after that.

I was started to wonder if she even cared where I was.  But then she found me on her belly and I was back home where I belonged.  She pressed my OK button to see how her BG did during the surgery.  I proudly showed her that she did great!

After a few minutes, the nurse told Shannon to try to get up.  I couldn’t believe it, but she did!  She got up slowly and walked to the end of the hall and back.  The nurse said that she did great and that we could all go home soon.  I was excited.  Shannon was starving.

After her IV had been removed, Brian helped Shannon get dressed. The nurse said that a prescription for something called Vicodin had been called in to the pharmacy on the 1^st floor.  So, after Brian helped her into the car, he went back inside.  Before he did, he asked Shannon if she wanted anything to eat, and she said “hell yeah.”  She was sounding more and more like her old self.  Shannon asked Brian to get her a Kit Kat, which he did.

During the long drive home, Shannon devoured that Kit Kat, and I watched her BG start to climb.  It was climbing way too fast to be because of that Kit Kat.  That’s when I remembered the Decadron. 

For the next 24 hours, Shannon’s blood sugar would not come down.  No matter what she did, I stayed at a constant 350 mg/dl or higher.  She doubled her basals and did correction boluses every two hours, but nothing seemed to work.  She even turned my high alarm off because we were both just exhausted.    

We stayed home from work the next day, and Shannon had a lot of pain.  She tried to rest, but between the pain and the crazy BGs, she didn’t get much sleep.   She finally started to get some relief last night only to spike a fever.  She immediately called the doctor and was told to take Tylenol for the fever. 

I don’t like Tylenol.  No, let me rephrase.  I HATE Tylenol.  It does something wonky to the inner working of my sensor’s technology.  Tylenol is my kryptonite.  I knew that I would be useless to Shannon until the Tylenol was out of her system, so I decided to take a nap. 

My nap turned into an entire night’s sleep.  Shannon and I both slept through the night.  She’s feeling a little better today, but still not well enough to write a blog post.  She was thankful when I offered to step up and write it for her.  I’m cool like that.

Oh, and by the way, Shannon’s #bgnow is 153 mg/dl.

Comments (12)

By shannon, May 17, 2010 12:24 pm

I didn’t post on Saturday or Sunday.  I’m not even going to try to justify it.  I suck.

That is all.

Comments (6)

By shannon, May 14, 2010 9:00 am

I’ve been dreading this post.  I really have nothing good to write about exercise because, frankly, I hate it. 

People always talk about those endorphines you get after exercise, but I think I’m missing whatever gland is supposed to secrete them.  I feel like complete and utter shit after I exercise.  I don’t like to sweat, either. 

So, what can I write about exercise?  Not much.

If someone has some advice (that isn’t going to sound all cheerleaderish), please comment.  I know that I need to exercise, and I just need to find what will work for me.

Comments (4)

By shannon, May 13, 2010 9:00 am

Carbs.  They are the bane of my existence.  I love them, and I hate them.  More importantly, they love my hips and ass and hate my BG.

I’ve written before about my attempts at low-carb eating.  When I’m doing it, after the first few days of suck, I love the way I feel.  My BG control is wonderful, and I’m less hungry and more “even” than when eating a “balanced” diet. 

So, why don’t I stick to a low-carb diet all the time?  Because I have the willpower of a 2-year old.  I LOVE carbs, and I have a hard time resisting them.  Usually, I’ll be chugging along on a low-carb regimen for a month or so when I’m confronted with my own personal kryptonite:  birthday cake.  It’s always someone’s freaking birthday, and I cannot resist birthday cake.  It’s the flame to my moth; the one thing I just can’t resist. 

So, until someone comes up with a no-carb birthday cake that doesn’t taste like complete ass, I’m a carbivor.  Dammit.

Comments (5)

By shannon, May 12, 2010 9:00 am

My biggest supporter could be only one person:  Brian. 

The other day, he picked up a test strip from the floor, grumbling about how they’re always there.   Everywhere.  I had to laugh and remind him that he knew what he was getting into when he married me … that he married into a lifetime of test strips.

But, it started me thinking (this is NEVER good).  Before we got married, did he really realize what life with a type 1 diabetic would be like?  Did he think that diabetes would play such a prominent role in our lives? 

When we first started dating, I didn’t do much (if any) of my diabetes-related chores in front of him.  I tried to seem as “normal” as possible.  It was there, though, in the background.  But, Brian is such an easy-going person that it didn’t really phase him. 

Things were different then, too.  I was still on MDIs, and my control was less than perfect.  In my ongoing weight battle, I was dabbling in diabulimia and not testing or injecting as often as I should.  Call it a rebellion, but diabetes wasn’t really in my “big picture” at that time.

Then, I went on the pump.  Suddenly, diabetes was front and center.  I *had* to pay attention to it – I was suddenly getting into a healthier BG range, which meant lows were more common.  I gained weight (ick) and tested my blood.  Eventually, I went on a CGM, which required even more diligence.  Suddenly, diabetes was such a huge part of our lives that I needed a break.

In the months before our wedding, both because of d-burnout and my effort to lose weight, I didn’t wear my pump often.  I kept it in a drawer with the battery removed.  I gave myself shots every now and again, but I was very out of control.  I made a deal with myself:  after the wedding, I’d buckle down and get my health back in order.

And I did.  I remember hooking the pump back up before we left for our honeymoon.  I remember the awful bloating that comes with sudden BG control.  I remember testing frequently and going low constantly.  And most of all, I remember Brian being there through it all.

Whether I’m high or low, he’s there with whatever I need.  He rubs my back and tells me that I’ll be ok.  He can’t understand what it’s like to live with diabetes, but he’s always there to help.  His constant, unconditional support is as much a lifeline as my pump or CGM.  I don’t know what I’d do without him.