When I wrote that last blog I was at an all time low. I thought things had got as bad as they could get (insert wicked laughter). I was wrong there. I didn't explain too much of what led me to that point, so here it is - the backstory and what followed.
Stupidly I had told everyone that we were starting a family straight away. Yep "watch this space!" I would say confidently, with no idea that it was ever going to become the nightmare that it has. So, they watched and asked. At first I'd cheerfully joke about us having to rush off home early from parties and dinners to get busy. After not too long, my jokes turned to short comments; not yet. Not yet. Oh so openly I had shared my hopes and how I am kicking myself now. How could I have been so naive back then.
At first we were told that it should be an easy fix, I simply had to take some pills each month and I'd be pregnant in no time at all. Bada bing bada boom.
Then, six weeks later we were told it was a little more complicated than that and we would in fact need IVF. I hadn't really let myself think too much about this as a possibility. I didn't know too much about it, I didn't think I would ever need to.
When people had told me they were going through IVF, I had always assumed this was a positive thing, but that was for other people, not us. It's not until you sit in that room with a concerned looking nurse telling you that your only hope is IVF that you realise how hard this journey is going to be.
When it started to sink in, I was angry. While others could just simply have sex to have a baby, we had to go through this traumatic and lengthy process which held no guarantees of success. The nurse at the IVF clinic told us that being told you needed IVF was like being told you had cancer. Why had I ever thought it was such a simple process for other people? I never had any idea that it would hurt this much. I'd never really had to think about it.
I was told to continue on with the pills that I'd originally been given, just to get things rolling along. I tried to be positive although inside I was in bits. So many emotions and fears built up inside me as the monstrous mountain we had to climb rose up before us.
After a day or two I realised we had no choice but to be strong and carry on with the plans. It is terrifying to enter into this having no guarantees or time line. All we knew was that it would be a long and tough journey. What we didn't know was how difficult it would be just to get to the starting line.
This brings us to the part where things actually got worse...
So,two days after the second month of these pills on the 16th of November 2010, I had a seizure. We were expecting friends for dinner and it happened. Luckily Charlie was with me and rushed me to the hospital, where they assumed it was a stroke. I couldn't speak, had residual weakness and was extremely dizzy. A plethora of tests were conducted that night.
This wasn't the first time I'd ended up in hospital. In Ireland 6 years prior I'd had a similar episode and been hospitalised for a week - they told me then that it was a minor stroke.
This time around, the neurologist had a different theory. He believed it was migraine and told me that I should take the remainder of the week off work. Although we were afraid, it was a relief to know that it wasn't a stroke and that my symptoms although bizarre were normal in the migraine world.
The only problem was that two weeks later I still couldn't talk properly, walk unaided, watch TV, read...I couldn't do much to be honest. My speech was slurred, slow and stuttered. I had trouble thinking of words and finishing sentances. I had constant vertigo even just sitting still and I had constant seizure like episodes.
More scans and more visits to various Neurologists and still the same diagnosis; migraine. The strange thing was that I was yet to have a headache, apparently they are only one symptom of migraines!
The hardest thing was being told that it was likely to be the hormone tablets that were the trigger for my migraine. The tablets that I had taken were nothing compared the strength of the IVF treatment that I was to have. I was advised not to go ahead with the treatment as permanent brain damage could be a result.
I was completely unable to speak for the first three weeks. After this initial phase I could speak with a strong slur. Some days I would wake up and it was better but as soon as I got a little tired, the slur would ramp up again. If someone took me out to a cafe as a treat I had to point to what I wanted. I would end up in tears trying to communicate as it was so hard. The harder I tried it seemed the worse it would get. I was becoming very depressed, not knowing when this would all end. I now have a huge respect for stroke victims and those with physical disability as I got the same looks of pity from people when I tried to speak.
The Neurologists told me that it was all energy driven which made sense. Showering and having breakfast was exhausting, by the time this was done I would have to lie down for a sleep again. Then wake for some lunch and sleep for the afternoon.
I spent ten weeks on the couch. My vertigo was horrendous, I felt like I was on the high seas even just sitting still. I longed to write about my experiences at the time, but couldn't look at the computer. My mother offered to bring me some audio books to pass my time but the thought of this was so depressing I said no!
I eventually did get migraine headaches during the four months and they were shockers. My head was in so much pain I cried, vomited and couldn't even lie on a pillow for the pounding. I have to snicker now when people tell me they have a migraine and seem to be functioning fine. You want to see a migraine!?
Although I seemed not to be improving, I tried so hard to be positive.The Dr's couldn't give me answers or time frames as they hadn't seen the migraine last like this before. My life had changed completely. In month two I lost my short term memory, It was hard to think. My seizures had decreased in strength and frequency but were still there most days. .
In late December they started me on some Epilepsy medication. I had tried to stay away from the drugs as they were so strong and seemed to have some crazy side-effects. THings were so bad though that I was willing to try anything to get better. After a few weeks I realised they were doing more harm than good. By February I had totally lost my short term memory to the point where I couldn't have a conversation. The headaches began arriving every day after lunch and growing until they were unbearable by evening. The seizures had not let up and I became even more depressed. Would I be like this forever? I couldn't stand not being able to express myself, some day talking was so hard I just didn't speak at all. Teamed with my speech problems, just trying to remember what I was saying was a challenge in itself!
I spent so much time crying. I felt like I was being punished, but for what? I had made a promise to myself that 2011 would be the year of positive thought. But how the fuck could I be positive with all of this heartache going on? Charlie tried to remain positive and calm for my sake, but you could see the worry in his eyes. Seemingly, his wife had broken.
At that point I decided that the drugs needed to go and I had to just heal my own way. After being weaned off them, I felt so much better. The fog around my brain had lifted and I was able to think clearer again. My depression eased immediately.
Charlie and I started going out again, just for short outings but being able to leave the house was great. The first night we went out to dinner as a "I'm finally getting better" treat. But, I had a seizure at the table and we had to leave which was hard since I thought I was getting better. Charlie had to help me leave, it was embarrassing and disheartening. I would take two steps forward and then three back.
I was too afraid to go out alone or without Charlie as it was hard to explain to people what was happening, especially since my speech was badly effected during and after each seizure.
By March I was able to work a few days a week again, although I was so tired it was great to be back living life again. At first I started half days and I would come home and fall asleep straight away. I had to only work two half days a week but it was great to have been able to progress that far. Everyone at work was very supportive and knew that if I had a seizure, not to fuss but to let me have five minutes to recover in peace. Luckily I don't have to talk too much at work! Days when the vertigo or headaches were bad I wold have to call in sick. There was no warning with this, I'd just have to wake up and see what each day brought.
During that four months of hell, the focus had shifted from IVF to me just getting back to normal again.
We knew the huge risks to my neurological health that were involved in doing IVF however we didn't have a Plan B to fall back on. We desperately wanted to have a baby so we decided that once I was well enough we would risk it and just hope for the best. In a way, getting to that point (of good health) was my driving force to get through the hell I was in. I was determined to recover for our potential baby's sake.
Surely we deserved some good luck, right? Well, you would think...
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