Down on the Farm

The Stabber called from Casa Conception and we’re good to go. The latest bloodwork results came back with conclusive proof that I am indeed a human and my hormones have done what they should… thank Gods the stupidity hasn’t been for nothing.

On receiving the go ahead to start on the Follicle Stimulating Hormones I was so excited I did a little happy dance (not only does this mean operation Sea Monkey is well under way but it also means only another week or so of injections of stupidity drug and hopefully the return of my brain) but this morning when it came time to inject, I choked.

I had performance anxiety. Giving myself the daily stupidity drug needles has been thus far, except for some rather attractive bruising, much less unpleasant and difficult than I thought it would be and I gave myself my morning dose of that with barely a second thought and the precision of a long term junky.

The FSH injections come with a special Pen of the type that diabetic’s use that is alleged to make it easier. They do not. Firstly you have to build it each morning and the thing is so fucking huge and awkward that even though the actual needle is the same size as the one on the stupidity drug syringe it took me twenty minutes and three trips to the internet to Google instructions and make absolutely sure I had it right before I could take the plunge. I don’t go around shoving biros into my fatty tissue so why would I prefer a needle that looks like one?

Making it even more intimidating, my charming British dealer wasn’t there with a nice hot cup of tea to take make it all better so my first attempt at stereo needling was done flying solo without the aid of Ewan McGregor fantasies. The dealer was off at Casa Conception to make a ‘delivery’ which is a pretty term for a wank. His sperm are to be ‘washed’ and frozen as back up for operation Sea Monkey day.

When I think of them being ‘washed’ I imagine them all at a little sperm day spa with little towels wrapped around their little tails whilst they are being scrubbed and buffed and massaged. Clearly, such thoughts make me insane. Regardless, I hope they will all get a nice blow-dry and coiffe while they are there so they look pretty for the eggs. (just in case they are shallow like me)

After about twenty minutes of balking the FSH was eventually injected but I was so traumatised that I know tomorrow will be harder. I’m sure that after a few days it will become as easy as the stupidity drug to administer but for the moment the pen and I are locked in combat. I hate the pen. It is a bastard!

On the bright side down at the ovary farm the hens are moving in and finding themselves some nice fat follicles to lay their little eggs.

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1 Comment

Filed under drugs, IVF

One response to “Down on the Farm

  1. The Pen sounds most intimidating.
    But go hens and fluffy sperms!

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