The Plan has Changed

Last night, as we were eating dinner, our phone rang. Usually, we ignore it because telemarketers are prone to interrupting our evening meal, and frankly, at that hour, I refuse to speak to them. But something told me to grab the call. When I picked up the handset, I saw on the screen that it was my local RE's office calling.

Lo and behold, it was the RE himself. He had just recently received a fax from my OB's office. The OB doesn't think he can work with a cyst as small as mine (about 4 x 5 cms). To be fair, the OB isn't usually required to do that sort of thing. I mean, aspiration of a cyst is pretty much the same technique as egg retrieval during an IVF cycle and it certainly isn't the OB that does that. The last time I had a cyst like this, I had it aspirated in Montreal at our clinic there. The time before that, it was the OB who did a laparoscopy to remove it. He's comfortable with doing the lap, but not with aspiration. Not really his area of specialty. I can understand that.

But the question remains: who can do the aspiration? There's the local fertility centre who, technically, COULD do it for me. But wouldn't they be pissed at doing that when I'm not even cycling there? I certainly wouldn't be a priority for them. The folks in Montreal can do it. Sure. But it means travel time, etc. And Lord knows when they can work me in. I asked my local RE if he could possibly contact Montreal and ask if perhaps that procedure can be squeezed into our appointment day in mid-December.

The local RE said that they'd ponder possible options and they'd contact me soon with something. I hope they come up with an idea soon though. The pain was so bad last night, it woke me from my sleep. That's not fun. I've said it before and I'll say it again; you can be damn sure that if it was a man suffering from a 4 x 5 cm growth in his abdomen that could easily be rectified, it would be fixed in the blink of an eye. Why do women have to suffer so? It's terrible. It's just not acceptable in my view.

On another note, I was home unexpectedly yesterday. Petite is ill and while she could have probably gone to daycare, I got a phone call just after 7 a.m. yesterday from our caregiver to let us know that her own son was violently ill so she was going to have to cancel care for the day. C'est la vie. I stayed home and cuddled Petite, trying to relieve her symptoms as much as possible. Poor girl. She is having a tough time breathing. That continued into last night. Every time she stirred, her breathing difficulties woke her and she'd cry. Sitting in her crib, just feeling miserable; she looked terribly forlorn. My poor baby girl. It's hard to know I can't do much for her. I must look into some natural remedies that come highly recommended, at least to relieve her symptoms a little. We've tried a few things already: saline in her nose, suctioning out the junk, raising her mattress on one end, keeping a running humidifier with liquid Vicks going, having a steaming hot bathroom when she takes her bath, etc. I hope this cold runs its course soon. I hate to see her ill. She was so uncomfortable last night, I was up until almost 2 a.m. trying to rock her to sleep on my chest, semi-upright so she could breathe. She was miserable though.

Something that's amazing to me though, is Petite's absolute LOVE of books. At not quite 15 months, she spent all day yesterday running back and forth to me with book after book after book. At last count last night, I'd read "Guess Who?" (one of her Halloween, lift-the-flap books) a total of 18 times. EIGHTEEN, folks. And that's just one of her books! She has about a dozen or so piled in the living room and she loves to have us read them to her. I am very, very happy about that. She is beginning to recognize her books too. I've read "Goodnight Moon" so many times, I've memorized it. The other evening, I started to recite it from memory when it was bedtime and we wanted her to settle down a little and have quiet time. As I was reciting it, she stopped her frenetic spinning, and immediately went to her stack of books, plucked out "Goodnight Moon" and brought it to me, climbing into my lap. We read it cover to cover three times before she was satisfied.

I am so glad she loves books. It's important to me that I read to her every day and instill a love of the written word and show her that books are wonderful. It will serve her in good stead as she gets older. That's for certain. But oh dear heavens, how many times do I have to read them over and over and over? It makes me laugh, but I cannot despair. It's a wonderful thing and I am deliriously thrilled that she enjoys books as much as she does.

Sending out lots of love to my fellow bloggers. And wishing all Americans (and my sister who lives in the States, along with her husband and his family) a wonderful Thanksgiving holiday. Enjoy.