Clove’s Training and Fertility Treatment Log: Week 2, Cycle Three

Yep.  This about sums up my week - Clove went hormone crazy!!!
Yep. This about sums up my week – Clove went hormone crazy!!!

This week was still a mixed bag in Clove-land.  I had some really fantastic experiences that I’m fired up about, but I also had some difficult stuff going on that really caused some emotional turmoil.  The treatment cycle has kind of gotten buried beneath all of that, but perhaps that’s a mixed blessing too.I was due to pace the 5:00 group at the Eugene Marathon, and it ended up fitting into my cycle.  5:00 is pretty much zero-stress on my body, and since we haven’t done the IUI yet, there was no chance whatsoever that I was pregnant.  To be honest, the timing couldn’t have been better.  Since I was pacing so slowly, I didn’t have to taper or reduce mileage at all, which was also nice because it allowed me to at least keep the limited mileage I’m on.  At the same time, I found that I just wasn’t able to shake the Boston blues, and I’ve been embroiled in an ongoing and rather painful fight with a good friend at the same time.

So throw a traumatic experience, a solid dose of synthetic hormones and some emotional turmoil into a blender, put that sucker on high, and you’ve got my week.  In a word:  ugh.  Here’s hoping to warmer, calmer days ahead.

Saturday:  15 miles with my morning running group, followed by Pilates/core class.  Run didn’t feel great, but it didn’t feel horrible either.  Later that evening, DB and I went to dinner with some of our closest friends and their two daughters.  It was the first time I had felt “normal” since Boston.  Though the big fight was underway and gaining steam, it was the first time I felt the Boston-fog lift and really believed that life could actually get back to normal.  100 iu’s of Follistim – like a boss.

Sunday:  5 easy afternoon miles with DB.  Super excited about this – DB’s Badwater training has officially kicked off, which means that we’re actually running together for the first time in a year!  He’s been busy training for goal sub-3 marathons in the past year (Cleveland 2012 – derailed by 80 degree temperatures; Cal International 2012 – derailed by hurricane-force winds and torrential downpours; and Boston 2013 – a solid effort that netted a 3:13, which though dissapointing to him, is damn bada$$ for a 49 year old man with his professional commitments).  I’ve been busy training for ultras in the past year, and sub-3 marathon training and ultra-training just don’t match up.  Guess what?  Badwater training and fertility treatments do!!!  It’s really been wonderful just logging some miles with my husband, and I’m so excited for more.  100 iu’s of Follistim.  Interesting news already:  only two shots in and I’m already feeling the fatigue.  I realize that I’m also under a couple of emotional black clouds, but that two hour nap does me a world of good – and also gives me a major boost of confidence about cycle three.  After all, the third time’s the charm, right?

Monday:  5 afternoon miles on junior trail and a single spin class.  I’m bummed about the spin class – I have to do it on my own because DB has asked me to attend a counseling session for Boston attendees that the Columbus Marathon is doing in partnership with the local crisis counseling center.  Being that I already live with PTSD due to childhood trauma, and have already seen my personal therapist since Boston, I will admit that I am loathe to attend this session.  It was, however, greatly needed and incredibly helpful to most of the people that attended and don’t have the same access to crisis therapy and information about PTSD that I do, and I am ultimately glad that I attended.  100 iu’s of Follistim.  These ones b-u-r-n as the session runs late and I don’t get to leave the syringe out the full 15 minutes to warm to room temperature.  Poor Salty gets an earful as I’m driving home – sorry/thanks, Salty!

Tuesday:  8 morning miles with my neighborhood group.  I skip Pilates/core class for two reasons; one is personal and the other is my scan appointment.  The fight with my friend reaches it’s peak today, and the day is a long and ugly exchange of bitter and catty texts and hurt feelings.  I honestly don’t know if I’m more hurt or angry; I just know that I feel like a high school girl going through a friend break-up and all I want to do is fix it.  But I can’t, and that sucks, so I listen to Maroon 5’s “So This is Goodbye” on repeat for HOURS.  I am such a child sometimes.  First blood draw and scan this morning, and though the news is good, that experience isn’t any better.  To begin, the tech that signs me in at the lab drives me crazy.  She insists on calling me “Miss Star,” which I just don’t care for unless it’s one of my Sunday School kids.  I am p-r-a-y-i-n-g that she doesn’t try to do my blood draw; she’s newer and less experienced and I just don’t feel confident in someone that is a) younger than me and b) can’t call me “Star” or “Mrs. Blackford.”  The truth is, I need Brad.  Brad is the only tech that can draw me without a butterfly, and he’s awesome.  There’s another guy that I like, but he always complains that I’m dehydrated.  (Heh.)  Long story short, she fumbles for a vein, has my arm in a stupid twisted position, shoves the needle deeper than a meth addict would, and then proceeds to basically scrape at the inside of my vein with it while she attempts to get blood out of it.  Then she does my favorite thing in the whole wide world – tries to solve the problem by just shoving the needle deeper and deeper.  By now I’m almost in tears because I’m so emotional already and now in pain, and finally I let out a pointed “owww.”  She says “you know I’m just taking it out, right?” 

No, she was not “just taking it out.”  But whatever.

Then she says:  “Well, do you want to try the other arm?”  I ask her why, and she holds up a nearly empty tube and tells me we didn’t actually get the blood.

I leave my manners behind and tell her I want Brad to draw me.  60 seconds later, I’m headed next door for the scan, full tube of blood in Brad’s hands and both arms bandaged.  Yeah, I needed that.

I get my third favorite doctor for my scan, but I still like this one and he’s not the evil fembot.  Great news – four follicles, two on each side, all measuring between 7 and 8 mm.  THIS is what I’m talking about.  He assures me we can get “creative” and “historical” so that I can go out of town for my work trip.  Nurses call later with my instructions – we’re sticking to 100 for the next few nights, then tapering off later in the week to prevent premature/uncontrolled ovulation.

I have a lot of work and packing to finish, but between the emotional turmoil, the scan and the drugs, I’m completely whipped and have a nasty estrogen headache to boot.  I take a two hour nap, and though I’m still completely under the black cloud when I wake up, it at least dawns on me that maybe this combination of – oh, you know, massive amounts of estrogen with a traumatic experience and an emotional overload just might be contributing to the whole behaving like an angry teenage girl thing.  Heh.  I keep doing it anyway, because I’m on a hell of a roll. 

100 iu’s of Follistim.

And you know damn well they're never this clean.
And you know damn well they’re never this clean.

Wednesday:  8 morning miles with DB.  Though the weather is dark, my mood is lifting, and I commit to letting some things go and enjoying my trip and my friends.  It’s also a working trip for me, so I need to get off the pity-pot and back on my game.  I feel some strength return to me, and though I’m still emotional, hurting and in no mood to leave home so soon after Boston, I find that gorging on old episodes of “America’s Next Top Model” on the flight to San Francisco is the perfect balm.  100 iu’s of Follistim – in an airplane bathroom.  That’s dedication.  The estrogen headache rages on, but that’s a good sign of how the cycle is going.  I’ll take it.

Thursday:  4 lunchtime miles at Clif Bar’s “Run for Boston” event.  A truly awesome day – not only do I get to spend it with my boss and friends at the Clif Bar headquarters, DB and I have twelve members of the pace team joining us for a day at the company on the way to our respective races in Big Sur and Eugene.  I absolutely love and respect the ideals, philosophies and values that Clif Bar stands for, and getting to share it with my team is a fantastic and exciting experience.  The most moving part of the day, of course, is getting to participate in Clif Bar’s run to benefit Boston – and get this.  The “Foundation,” which is Clif Bar’s charitable arm, has agreed to donate $100 per employee that participates in the 4-mile lunchtime run or walk to The One Fund.  Yes, you read that right – $100 per employee.  All told, we raised more than $16,000 for the fund, which directly benefits the victims of the tragedy in Boston.  100 iu’s of Follistim – in an airplane bathroom – WITH NO SINK!!!  Yes, I shouted that out in all-caps.  I had only Wet Wipes, hand sanitizer and rubbing alcohol to sterilize.  So, so, so gross.  Now, to be completely honest, my leg was sterilized by the alcohol and the actual needle was kept in it’s protective cap until the moment of injection – but this is still, hands down, the NASTIEST shot experience yet.  Blechy blechy blechy BLECH.

The Clif Bar team outside headquarters before the run to benefit Boston.  Can you find Clove?
The Clif Bar team outside headquarters before the run to benefit Boston. Can you find Clove?

Friday:  6 gorgeous, green, sunny miles on the University of Oregon campus.  Friend breakup 2013 is still in the background, but at least it’s been relegated to it’s proper place – the background.  Oregon is lush, green, sunny and beautiful and my mood is lifting with each bit of sunshine on my shoulders.  I had no idea how much I needed to see and feel sunshine until I did.  On the flip side, I become more obsessed than ever with my recent passing notion of getting my nose pierced.  Come on, I’m in a tiny little hippie college town, getting a bit of a contact high and transitioning to that place where all the chaos of the past two weeks is actually making me feel powerful and adventurous.  Okay, still a mess.  Little Clove’s getting a little crazy.  100 iu’s of Follistim, in a beautiful, sterile, clean hotel bathroom.  Ahhhhh.  After the past two shots, I almost enjoy this one simply due to the proximity of soap and water.

Weekly totals:  51 miles, one hour of spinning, 700 iu’s of Follistim and a wheelbarrow full of crazy.  I promised to be honest – and I might be regretting it just a little bit …

Trail and adventure enthusiast. Girl who swears like a sailor but not when she's teaching Sunday School. Survived infertility without a successful pregnancy. Self-employed, primarily working for Clif Bar and Company. Thirteen 100-mile race finishes with seven top 3 placements. An original Saltine.

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1 comment

  1. I’m sure that hormone craziness is normal, isn’t it? I have PMT this week and I feel grumpy enough, I can only imagine how much nastier your hormone-fury is!!!! I’m sorry about your friendship breaking down, that’s pretty grim.