Tag Archives: Buses

No plan. What a surprise*


You probably forgot I had my follow up consultation yesterday amidst all the Pumpkin Smackdown excitement. Good job for you I remembered.

I was pretty nervous, but happy to be finally getting a new plan together. I was apprehensive about how the Christmas closure would affect this cycle and I wanted to know if we’d be cycling before Christmas or after Christmas. Well, I needn’t have worried because there are no fucking plans, and no cycling visible on the horizon anyway.

If you see me anywhere, will you tell my body to go fuck itself? Ta.

I will keep this short because I am so bursting with self pity and rage, it might grow so big you will die from reading it. Apparently, as well as a naff AMH, the antral follicle count unveiled abnormalities with my lining and fluid in my right ovary, around my uterus and also somewhere else important I’ve forgotten. This means I need to go back for another mid-cycle scan in about 3 weeks. This will either show that:

a) (unlikely) Everything is magically fine and I can aim for an embryo transfer in January.

b) (also quite unlikely, Dr Hero seems to think this will resolve itself?) The lining stays looking weird and I will have a hysteroscopy to investigate, and god knows what else once they find out what is wrong with it.

c) (most shit, and most likely) They will scan me and all the fluid is still there, which means it’s likely to be something endometriosis related. If this is the case, they want to try and shrink it, which will mean shutting down my system entirely: at least 3 months of that fucking troll Zoladex and no IVF cycle until March at the very earliest.

Fluid was present at a scan I had in July, so I can’t imagine it’s going to disappear anytime soon. My lining has always been fine so I imagine the change must be a result of the ERPC/miscarriage. I hope that it’s nothing drastic, but knowing my luck so far it will be. Why scar my lining? Why? Why me when I’m already so fucking infertile? Infertile is an adjective isn’t it?

I wonder how many people I know will be pregnant by March. I’ve been trying to get pregnant since 2010 and now I am looking at having a baby in 2015 at the earliest? Fuck off body. I mean it, just fuck off. I imagine I will actually be a fully fledged alcoholic by the time March rolls around.

I’m going to sign off now before I write fuck again. Oh, hang on, final bit of bad news. They think I will have to have a general anaesthetic for my egg collection (whatever, fine by me) because they are concerned it will be tricky, but now they are also suggesting the eggs might need to be removed laparoscopically. What the actual fuck? (oops, sorry)

His message was: don’t worry we will get there; you just might need “the extra special treatment”. Yeah well, fuck off I don’t want it. I am also crapping bananas about the cost of all of this “special treatment”. I’m not made of gold.

I am planning on going ALL OUT next month to become naturally inpregnated, even thought the chances of that are about 1%. Kind of imagine that if IVF is a no-no, magical natural conception will be a bad idea/impossible anyway but who cares. If you see my husband, warn him will you?

I’m going to go and have a nervous breakdown now.

BB xx

P.s. You are probably crying a lot about this. I know I am. To cheer you up I have transcribed a real life event that happened to me today on the bus. I had a pen and note pad in my handbag so this is how it happened IN REAL TIME.

A Bus Story
By an extremely barren Betty

There is only the Bus Driver, an Old Lady (sat at the back, 80ish) and myself on the bus.

We drive past an enraged man on the pavement who starts jumping around and screaming as we sail past him.

Bus Driver: (shouting at the top of his voice) If you’re not putting your arm out, I ain’t stopping!!

Old Lady: (also shouting at the top of her voice) You tell ’em! It’s just getting worse. York is the worst place to be a driver. It’s so dangerous! The streets are too narrow and the tourists are idiots. The whole place has gone downhill!

The entire following conversation is screamed at full volume

BD: I disagree… Ilkley is worse.

OL: Yeah, full of druggies.

BD: No, I mean for driving!

OL: Oh, shame. It used to be such a pretty place.

A police car comes into view ahead, sirens blazing

OL: Oh Lordy! would you look at that!

BD: He’ll never get through that gap.

OL: It’s probably a murder hunt.

Still shouting as loudly as humanly possible, which turns out if you are a bus driver or an 80 year old lady is pretty loud.

BD: I don’t watch TV anymore!

OL: Me neither, I got rid of mine.

BD: Yeah well, I got rid of mine AND the radio. I don’t pay my TV licence now either. They keep writing to me demanding money, but I just write back and tell them to get lost.

OL: Good for you. It won’t work though, what with the government? I don’t trust them. I don’t pay them anything.

Some further conversation ensues about beating the government that I don’t understand because it doesn’t make sense.

OL: (In a knowing voice) It’s a government authority.

BD: Yes it is.

Short pause while another Old Lady and an Old Man get on. OL number 1 turns to me and says something about Wetherby and teacakes, but I only hear every third word so I politely nod and laugh at the end. She seems appeased. She tells me something about rain. I laugh again and roll my eyes. She looks confused and slightly angry.

We travel for another 5 minutes in a beautiful silence, then the Old Man presses the buzzer to stop the bus at the next stop and walks to the front of the bus preparing to alight.

OL1: (turning to OL2 and still shouting) You’re not supposed to get up until the bus stops.

OL2: I know! There are signs up everywhere. He can’t have read the signs!

Old Man stands firm at the front of the bus.

OL1: If you get up early and you fall it means you can’t sue ’em!

OL2: No. People who stand up early are just making fools of themselves.

Old Man looks stoically straight ahead into the mid distance.

OL1: I know a lady who did that and was terribly injured. I won’t go into it.

OL2: Impatient idiots.

OL1: Yes, just like car drivers.

Never mind all the onboard drama. The bus driver was a LUNATIC. It is 40 minutes of extremely windy roads which we hurtled along AT 60MPH (I don’t know what that is in American; it is fast for a crap bus). It was terrifying. I travelled the entire journey in the brace position.

I get this bus pretty much every week and the same oldies always get on it too. I decided to apply my rule about flying – ie if the air hostesses cry, then shit is bad. The old people seemed totally chilled, if not somewhat euphoric. Now I am wondering if they are going somewhere every week, or if it is just purely for the thrill of the ride?