Things go south

On with option 3 we went, and everything looked good. There were plenty of follicles showing up on the scans and I was responding well to the medication.

Egg harvest was booked and went well. We had 15 eggs retrieved and got the call the next day to say 12 had been successfully fertilized. We were really happy with this. I thought if we ended up with 2 blastocysts last time with only 9 fertilized eggs, then with cycle which had gone much more smoothly we would have at least 3 or 4 to freeze and store. I was glad to have these positives and found myself confident about the IVF with PGD process.

There was no real concern about OHSS this cycle, as I had a shorter protocol of medication and things had gone to plan. However, as each day passed after the surgery, I was getting more and more sore rather than recovering. With it being a busy week at work, the last week of term 1, I just decided to push through and thought I would eventually begin to feel better.

By the Tuesday (4 days after the egg retrieval) I started to feel nauseous on top of the pain. I decided at lunchtime to call the clinic and let them know I wasn’t well, which was what I was supposed to do. After listening to my symptoms, then calling my doctor, the clinic told me to report to the ER. This seemed a bit extreme, but I thought they might check my blood pressure etc, and hopefully send me home with some decent painkillers.

I had mum take me down straight after work, and called my husband to let him know but told him not to bother coming as I thought I should only be there for a couple of hours at most.

To my surprise, after an initial examination and ultrasound testing, I was admitted to hospital. Mum had called my husband to get him to come down and he was there when they admitted me. I was still feeling like it was overkill, I was in a fair bit of pain but was otherwise OK. The ER doctor told me the ultrasound showed the largerst cycsts and most extensive swelling that he had ever seen. That explained the ouch.

Now to cut a long story short, I got a fair bit worse before I got better, and spent the next three nights in hospital on a drip. Not so much fun.

However, the worst thing to happen in hospital had nothing to do with me being sick, or even the food. Nope, it was yet another bad news phone call.



Posted on April 4, 2014, in 2014 - The year of living uncomfortably. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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