For a few nights now, P has been jabbing needles into her leg and injecting herself with hormones in order to “reboot” her hormonal system so that she progresses towards ovulation according the a timetable to suit the hospital’s convenience.<\/p>\n
The drugs\u00c2\u00a0bring on the nightsweats which results in her having to peel herself from the bed in the morning but has the advantage of dissuading our allergen-enriched cat from tucking up beside her at night. They do not affect her mood except when I suggest that any passing grumpiness must be “down to the hormones” at which point she chases me round the house with a pair of kebab skewers and a garlic press, psychosis shining from her eyes.<\/p>\n
Yes, mes amis, we are once again on the IVF treadmill. Though this is, definitively, the very last time<\/strong>.<\/p>\n I tell you because those of you not battle-hardened by following us through previous rounds may not be ready for the display of olympic-standard self-pity this usually brings on. It’ll be ugly round here for a bit and the sensitive among you may want to avert your gaze. For those of you who want to join\u00c2\u00a0us in this month’s trip over the emotional Niagra in a barrel, I’m grateful for your company and I suggest that you hold onto your hats.\u00c2\u00a0<\/p>\n \n