So, starting today.. I'm taking the max doseage of Clomid (150mg); three times what I took before. And I had terrible side effects (rash, night sweats) before.. so this should be interesting.
I also just spoke with the office manager at my specialist's office. She informed me, that unfortunately, insurance will not be covering the cost of the ultrasound. So I have to pay $211 out of pocket, in full, on the day of the test (which is less than two weeks away). For those keeping track.. that means for the minimal treatment, and cheapest treatment, it's about $335 per month. And again, that's for the option that gives us the least chance for success.
What this tells me, is that we can't feasibly try this for more than a couple months; and there's really no way we can take it to the next (more expensive and invasive) level. Obviously, the idea of giving up is a real downer. But I feel like we won't have any choice. The doctor doesn't even do payment plans, so everything has to be paid in full before treatment or testing is provided. There's just no way...
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Friday, December 23, 2011
Words That Sting
I had no idea what to say. It felt like someone just punched me in my ribcage. I could barely breathe, and I wanted to burst into tears. All because somebody, that I didn't know, asked me if I was pregnant.
They had overheard me telling someone that my stomach hurts, and they just blurted out, "Well, are you pregnant?" Is stomach pain really the first symptom? I found it hard to accept that pregnancy was the first thing that came to this person's mind in reference to a stomach-ache. And all I could muster back to her question was, "No." Not a jokey, "Oh heck, no!" or "No" with a chuckle. Just "No." I wondered if she even noticed how seriously in which I answered. It was definitely not how most people answer in casual conversation.
But the truth is, I wanted to go hide. I knew that the stomach pain was probably from the fertility meds.. but I couldn't explain that. Nor would this stranger want such an over-explanation. So, I just sat there.. quiet and hurt.
Sure, it's always unintentional. And usually, it pops up and hits you when you least expect it. But this wasn't the first time that somebody's words have left a sting.
It's always hard when someone asks us, "So, when are YOU guys going to have kids?" Ugh. If they only knew what I meant when I said, "Oh, well we're trying."
Next up, like the first example, are the folks that overhear a few symptoms that are usually from the meds themselves, and ask, "Are you pregnant?" Nope. Thanks for your interest. Here's my tip for people. Never casually ask someone if they're pregnant unless you're 100% sure they aren't and you're joking, and/or you know they aren't trying.
And the last one, that actually gets under my skin the most, is "If it's meant to be, it'll be." Seriously? Somebody is pissing rainbows. I hate this phrase. First, I don't believe in fate; as if everything is pre-determined. I believe you have to make things happen for yourself. Imagine where our world would be if people literally just believed that whatever was supposed to happen, would happen? Nobody would go to a doctor. "If I die, I was meant to." Nobody would go to school. "If I'm meant to have a great job, it'll just happen." Life definitely doesn't work that way. And throwing that phrase at people trying to get pregnant is about as useful as when it's told to people who are going through a rough patch in their relationship. It's not a destiny thing. It's something you work through, or you don't.
Secondly, "If it's meant to be, it'll be." actually implies that if we don't have kids, it wasn't meant to be. As if the universe has decided I just don't deserve to be a mother. Is that really supposed to make me feel better? And the truth is, maybe IVF would get us pregnant, but if I choose not to take it that far.. that means I chose it. Not that we weren't "meant to" have children.
Let me say here, though, that I get it when people are trying to be uplifting and hopeful. Or trying to get me to not worry about it. Just understand that when people are actively trying; seeing doctors and taking meds.. we have no choice but to think about it daily.. if not hourly. And the words you think are helping, just aren't. No matter how well intentioned, they kind of feel like a slap in the face.
They had overheard me telling someone that my stomach hurts, and they just blurted out, "Well, are you pregnant?" Is stomach pain really the first symptom? I found it hard to accept that pregnancy was the first thing that came to this person's mind in reference to a stomach-ache. And all I could muster back to her question was, "No." Not a jokey, "Oh heck, no!" or "No" with a chuckle. Just "No." I wondered if she even noticed how seriously in which I answered. It was definitely not how most people answer in casual conversation.
But the truth is, I wanted to go hide. I knew that the stomach pain was probably from the fertility meds.. but I couldn't explain that. Nor would this stranger want such an over-explanation. So, I just sat there.. quiet and hurt.
Sure, it's always unintentional. And usually, it pops up and hits you when you least expect it. But this wasn't the first time that somebody's words have left a sting.
It's always hard when someone asks us, "So, when are YOU guys going to have kids?" Ugh. If they only knew what I meant when I said, "Oh, well we're trying."
Next up, like the first example, are the folks that overhear a few symptoms that are usually from the meds themselves, and ask, "Are you pregnant?" Nope. Thanks for your interest. Here's my tip for people. Never casually ask someone if they're pregnant unless you're 100% sure they aren't and you're joking, and/or you know they aren't trying.
And the last one, that actually gets under my skin the most, is "If it's meant to be, it'll be." Seriously? Somebody is pissing rainbows. I hate this phrase. First, I don't believe in fate; as if everything is pre-determined. I believe you have to make things happen for yourself. Imagine where our world would be if people literally just believed that whatever was supposed to happen, would happen? Nobody would go to a doctor. "If I die, I was meant to." Nobody would go to school. "If I'm meant to have a great job, it'll just happen." Life definitely doesn't work that way. And throwing that phrase at people trying to get pregnant is about as useful as when it's told to people who are going through a rough patch in their relationship. It's not a destiny thing. It's something you work through, or you don't.
Secondly, "If it's meant to be, it'll be." actually implies that if we don't have kids, it wasn't meant to be. As if the universe has decided I just don't deserve to be a mother. Is that really supposed to make me feel better? And the truth is, maybe IVF would get us pregnant, but if I choose not to take it that far.. that means I chose it. Not that we weren't "meant to" have children.
Let me say here, though, that I get it when people are trying to be uplifting and hopeful. Or trying to get me to not worry about it. Just understand that when people are actively trying; seeing doctors and taking meds.. we have no choice but to think about it daily.. if not hourly. And the words you think are helping, just aren't. No matter how well intentioned, they kind of feel like a slap in the face.
Friday, December 9, 2011
Medications & Money
So, today, since I was off work.. I had time to call the 'recommended' mail-order pharmacy to get my meds for this cycle. According to the doctor, since they are a "specialized" pharmacy, they tend to be cheaper. They're called Freedom Fertility Pharmacy.
I only needed two medications. One is the Clomid. The other is the shot I have to take if the Clomid works, called Ovidrel. No surprise, insurance won't pay for either. They gave me the generic Clomid, but apparently Ovidrel has no generic counterpart. My out-of-pocket, for those two medications (that I'll take for a total of 6 days) is...
$120.35
Bleh.
Yeah, I know it's hardly earth-shattering.. and pales in comparison to the 15k needed for IVF. But still, it's a good chunk of a paycheck; especially around the holidays. Not to mention, we'll have to pay for an ultrasound for each attempt. Fingers crossed that this works.. because my brain and my wallet may not be up for anything more drastic.
I only needed two medications. One is the Clomid. The other is the shot I have to take if the Clomid works, called Ovidrel. No surprise, insurance won't pay for either. They gave me the generic Clomid, but apparently Ovidrel has no generic counterpart. My out-of-pocket, for those two medications (that I'll take for a total of 6 days) is...
$120.35
Bleh.
Yeah, I know it's hardly earth-shattering.. and pales in comparison to the 15k needed for IVF. But still, it's a good chunk of a paycheck; especially around the holidays. Not to mention, we'll have to pay for an ultrasound for each attempt. Fingers crossed that this works.. because my brain and my wallet may not be up for anything more drastic.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Hey (Special) Doc
So, after a fun weekend of celebrating our one year anniversary, I was off to the reproductive endocrinologist..
First, props to my husband for taking time off of work to go with me.. though he only ended up answering one question for the doctor; which was, "Do you have any other kids?" (after I had stated I hadn't had any). Luckily, his answer was "no." If it had been "I don't think so." our appointment would have gone very differently. ;-)
Anywho, as soon as I walk into the waiting room, I see a few couples (one of whom was clearly knocked up), and a couple women sitting alone. Half of one of the couples happens to be a teller for the bank I go to for work; at least a few times a week. Ugh. What are the odds? Then later, I find out that one of the men went to school with my hubby. Definitely a small world.
About 40 minutes after we arrive, I get called. We walk back into a very nondescript office. Two barren desks, and a bookshelf with literally nothing on it. No books. No knick-knacks. Clearly, this is the floating office for visiting doctors.
The Doc comes in and shakes my hand. Takes a few moments asking all the usual questions: How long have you been trying? How old are you? What have you tried?
I tell him that my current OB/GYN had me try Clomid at the lowest dose, but was concerned about putting me on higher doseages due to possibly overstimulating the ovaries. Well, this doc clearly did not have that same concern.. as he immediately prescribed that I try the maximum doseage (3 times what I was on). He informs me, "Oh, and with this doseage, you may have some hot flashes and mood swings." Bad news, Doc. I had those side effects on the lowest doseage. So, this should be fun. (my poor husband)
Doc proceeds to inform me that "we do Clomid a little different here." Oh? Do tell. For that, he sends in his nurse, with packets of information. She tells me how we'll induce the cycle (like normal), then I'll take Clomid (like normal), but then instead of a blood test, I'll come in earlier for an ultrasound of my ovaries. Hmm.. Okay. And then, if it looks like I have a follicle ready, then it's injection time.
Ummmm.. what?
Yeah, injections. Fantastic. What's worse? It's the DIY of injections. The kind of injection they expect your husband to give you.. fresh out of the refridgerator, where you store it by the butter. Bleeeeeeeeh. Not sure I'm up for that part. I'm clearly going to have mixed feelings when it's time for the ultrasound.. hoping I have a follicle.. but wishing I didn't need any injections.
Then, lastly, they say.. "Oh. Let's go ahead and do some bloodwork while you're here." Hooray! Always my favorite thing. But I'll give it to them this time. The dear asian lady that took my blood didn't try to engage me in useless chit chat; which never distracts me. It just annoys me. She just did her thing, and I literally didn't feel it. Trust me, I always feel it. So, high-five, asian lady!
That was my 'consult' today. And on a good note, they believe insurance will cover the consult and possibly part of the ultrasound, since it's considered part of "diagnosis" and not treatment. So, here's hoping that the meds are the only thing completely out of pocket.. for the moment.
First, props to my husband for taking time off of work to go with me.. though he only ended up answering one question for the doctor; which was, "Do you have any other kids?" (after I had stated I hadn't had any). Luckily, his answer was "no." If it had been "I don't think so." our appointment would have gone very differently. ;-)
Anywho, as soon as I walk into the waiting room, I see a few couples (one of whom was clearly knocked up), and a couple women sitting alone. Half of one of the couples happens to be a teller for the bank I go to for work; at least a few times a week. Ugh. What are the odds? Then later, I find out that one of the men went to school with my hubby. Definitely a small world.
About 40 minutes after we arrive, I get called. We walk back into a very nondescript office. Two barren desks, and a bookshelf with literally nothing on it. No books. No knick-knacks. Clearly, this is the floating office for visiting doctors.
The Doc comes in and shakes my hand. Takes a few moments asking all the usual questions: How long have you been trying? How old are you? What have you tried?
I tell him that my current OB/GYN had me try Clomid at the lowest dose, but was concerned about putting me on higher doseages due to possibly overstimulating the ovaries. Well, this doc clearly did not have that same concern.. as he immediately prescribed that I try the maximum doseage (3 times what I was on). He informs me, "Oh, and with this doseage, you may have some hot flashes and mood swings." Bad news, Doc. I had those side effects on the lowest doseage. So, this should be fun. (my poor husband)
Doc proceeds to inform me that "we do Clomid a little different here." Oh? Do tell. For that, he sends in his nurse, with packets of information. She tells me how we'll induce the cycle (like normal), then I'll take Clomid (like normal), but then instead of a blood test, I'll come in earlier for an ultrasound of my ovaries. Hmm.. Okay. And then, if it looks like I have a follicle ready, then it's injection time.
Ummmm.. what?
Yeah, injections. Fantastic. What's worse? It's the DIY of injections. The kind of injection they expect your husband to give you.. fresh out of the refridgerator, where you store it by the butter. Bleeeeeeeeh. Not sure I'm up for that part. I'm clearly going to have mixed feelings when it's time for the ultrasound.. hoping I have a follicle.. but wishing I didn't need any injections.
Then, lastly, they say.. "Oh. Let's go ahead and do some bloodwork while you're here." Hooray! Always my favorite thing. But I'll give it to them this time. The dear asian lady that took my blood didn't try to engage me in useless chit chat; which never distracts me. It just annoys me. She just did her thing, and I literally didn't feel it. Trust me, I always feel it. So, high-five, asian lady!
That was my 'consult' today. And on a good note, they believe insurance will cover the consult and possibly part of the ultrasound, since it's considered part of "diagnosis" and not treatment. So, here's hoping that the meds are the only thing completely out of pocket.. for the moment.
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