It is a rare occasion when Frank pisses me off to the utmost of pisstivity, angered to such an extent that I feel the urge to whack off his manbiscuits, saute them, then serve them to him for dinner. Saintly spirit be damned — even Frank the Fantastic has moments here and there where just as with any man, a stack of Bibles and vat holy water does little to exorcise the pesky demon that sometimes crawls into hidden crannies of their cranial spaces and tugs on the lever labelled PULL HERE TO SAY SOMETHING STUPID TO MY WOMAN FOR NO OTHER REASON THAN I'M A TESTOSTERONE-LADEN ASSHOLE. So, I did what any other hormone-sensitive woman would do: I pushed the TAKE A RIDE ON THE GUILT TRIP RAILROAD button and reduced him to his bony, shameful knees, where he is currently grovelling for forgiveness. *ahem*
Also, the business of This Is Over is now mostly over. Saturday hung like a kryptonite albatross from my neck, not a burden of guilt, but one of regret. It is impossible not to weaken when feeling your or your friends' shouldhavebeen flow into the neverwas.
By way of weeks, this last one sucked.
But, that is the past.
What lies ahead is a cliff. There are no next steps. No forks in the road. No options, no alternatives, no divergence in the yellow wood with one worn path and one less travelled. For Chance and Apollo, there is only this precipice, this last move more leap than step. This is it. It either works or it doesn't. Of course, there's no way to tell which of those endings will come to be, but one thing we do know for sure is that good or bad, this cycle will be the last cycle.
It is a heavy thing indeed to know either the end of something or the beginning of something is in you, but not up to you. Heavy, indeed.
It's even heavier knowing that this cliff that our toes are edged on is one carved from the end of financial reserve. I don't know much about anything, but it seems to me that ending the quest to have a family is even more painful when the heart is still willing but the logistical ability isn't anymore. It is begrudgingly grinding to a halt when the inertia of your movement still pushes you forward.
As such…we need help. The cycle will proceed without it, but every little bit makes it that much easier. In Chance's own words, "I am not even embarrassed about it anymore, because this will be it. The end, and that kills me, the thought of it. But I'll just have to accept that this is it, and my life is what it is, but without any kids. It's pretty brutal, but I'll have no choice but to accept it. Embarrassment pales in comparison to that." It sure as hell does.
So, assistance with the procurement of meds is something for which we would be eternally grateful. Just spreading the word if you would be so inclined to do so would be immensely helpful. What we will need:
4500 units Follistim
Lupron (to total two 2-week kits)
70 (seventy) 0.1 mg Vivelle dots (at least)
20 cc progesterone in ethyl oleate (at least)
Everything else we need for cycling is either relatively minor in cost or we have meds remaining from the last cycle. Chance will also take Saizen this time around, the same growth hormone that seemed to improve Mia's response in her last cycle with me. As Saizen isn't widely prescribed yet, it isn't likely that anyone has any extra sitting in the fridge door just waiting for the expiration date to pass.
If you have any leftover meds that you are able to donate, please email me at the link under my picture with what you are able to give and in what amount. A la Bleu, I'll put the list in my sidebar and will update as the offers (hopefully) come in.
With all of your words of support and comfort and much needed humor (you guys seriously crack me up when you sprinkled FUCKS! of disappointment in the past couple of weeks), I feel that I have received far more than I have given. I thank you greatly for that. All of your emails and hugs sent through the divide have meant so, so very much to me. You are the wind beneath my red cape, and I give a shit how utterly corny that sounds; it is the truth.
And with that, I'm off to take a long, hot shower and run out the hot water before Frank comes home from the gym. My own demon has nestled its way into the revenge section of my brain and is jumping on the PETTY BITCH button. Oh, me so evil. 🙂
Humor me – What have YOU done when your Petty Bitch button is switched into the "on" position?