Red Thumb Diary
Remember that show on Sh.owtime “Red Shoe Diaries“? It starred David Du.chovny pre-“X-Files” and was pretty risque. Now, I’m not going to be writing anything quite like what that show is about. Really, the only reason I brought it up was because I thought it would be quite a lame reference to the title of this post.
Okay, yeah. Making no sense here. But let me explain first of all by showing you this picture.
Yes, it’s a picture of my left thumb as I hold it up to the picture I posted in one of my recent entries. And why, may you ask, am I doing something as silly as that? Well, it’s because that same day that I wrote and posted that entry, I got an email from none other than “Living Journal” Cousin (herein known as LJC). Talk about major co-inky-dink!
LJC’s email told me that she (along with her fiance and fiance’s brother & girlfriend) would be coming for some shopping on Saturday and was wondering if we could at least get together and catch up for a bit. So I quickly responded that I would love to spend some time together in which ever way we could. Of course, I told her that I was just thinking about her. And then, in my typical “blog-whore” fashion (you know, where you try to “pimp your blog” out to other people … 😛 ), referred her to that latest post.
By the time LJC called this past Saturday, it was late afternoon and they were just pulling into the area. And because the main purpose for this trip was to go shopping, we figured we’d be able to maximize our time together by shopping and catching up. So, we met up at the area mall and shopped. Well, they did anyway.
Me? Well, as you can probably surmise by this picture … I tried on some nail polish at one of the stores. And silly me … thought that this particular store might have some nail polish remover handy to quickly take off the color so I didn’t have to go around with one single red thumb. Yeah … like I said … silly me.
Yep, these are ALL of LJC’s letters to me
So that solves the riddle of the “Red Thumb” part of this blog title. What, say you, about the “Diary” part?
As I stated briefly in the previously mentioned post … LJC was someone that I wrote to about everything during the most tumultuous times of my adolescent / teen life. So much that our letters would get to be 20 to 30 pages long at times. (I’m not kidding you … I swear!) She was … literally and figuratively … my real life diary (hence the name “Living Journal” Cousin). I can honestly say that my high school years and the earlier part of my college years had been written greatly in detail. As was hers.
The best part of having this kind of method of journaling was that I wasn’t just writing what I felt in a notebook or diary of some sorts … I was actually writing to a real live person. A person … my cousin … who I trusted (and still do) with my innermost feelings. And someone, who’s insight and opinions about my thoughts and actions, I deeply respected. So by sending and receiving each one of our letters … well, it’s much like getting feedback or comments on any of the blog entries I write. Except rather than it be out there in cyberspace … it’s signed, sealed, and delivered by the good old postal system. And better still, it’s given with that unconditional love and trust that’s very rare to find.
Looking back now, I think that I placed such strong emphasis on my relationship with my cousin (and subsequently her two younger sisters) because, growing up, I never had that sisterly bond with anyone else. Being with these three girls would be (and still is) the closest that I would ever come to having a sister. And in some respect, I wonder if this is the reason why I’m not as close or comfortable around other women today. Meaning that I’ve been witness to the bonding experience that most women with sisters have with each other and their subsequent relationships with other women. But that’s it. I’ve never been as close to any other females in my life as I am with my cousins. And even now, the three of them have a relationship with each other that I can honestly say that I envy.
But getting back to the letters …
The running joke during the height of our letter-writing years was that we would eventually give each other our letters back once we got married. Then we could do with it what we wanted … either read them or burn them … especially because there may have been some really bad things written in those letters that we wouldn’t want anyone … not even our future husbands … to read.
My So-Called Life
I completely forgot about our promise until the day after my wedding when Hubby & I (in typical Filipino tradition) were opening our wedding gifts among many of our out-of-town family & friends. There, in the absolute last box we opened were three books. Yup … all my letters, neatly photo-copied (colored copies, nonetheless … imagine the price of doing that in 1996) and binded chronologically into three volumes. I can clearly remember looking up at LJC (as well as her two sisters) with such amazement as tears ran down my face. I couldn’t believe what I was looking at … and I couldn’t believe that she’d remembered. The four of us stood hugging each other tightly and crying like babies as my cousin told me that she had to make copies because she just couldn’t part with the original letters.
So now … with LJC’s wedding literally around the corner … I’ve gotta start getting my act together. It looks as if I’ll be spending a lot of time in front of my printer/scanner or the local office supply place making copies of LJC’s letters. Because just like her … I can’t bear to part with the originals. But at least now … we’ll both have a set of all our letters and all of our responses.
Gas & Tatas
A couple days ago, I pulled out of my local coffee house, which just happens to be in a relatively upper middle class area of Suburban Detroit. As I’m driving towards the exit, I happen to glance at the L.and Ro.ver that was parked next to me and saw this bumper sticker on the rear window:
So yet again … does anyone else see the irony in this picture?
Okay … let’s see. Hmmm …. the fact that this person is driving a gas-guzzling SUV that probably requires the premium, high octane fuel probably gives insight as to why he/she is for war. But the irony of this, is that L.and Ro.ver, while once owned by one of the “Big Three” US auto companies, was recently sold to … da da da dum … an Indian car company, which …. wait for it … is called Tata Motors. (God, I just love writing the word “tata” and not have it be in reference to my b**bies!)
Yeah, I’m lame. But TGIF and hope everyone has a great weekend!
Flippin' Blog!
Alright … I’ve postponed this long enough. If it’s one thing that Filipinos are good at and known worldwide for is procrastinating. I mean really … why else would we have our own “time zone”? (Okay, so Filipino Time is not exactly a zone, per se. Rather it’s a … I don’t know … a philosophy? Lifestyle? Cultural trait?)
Anyway … a fellow blogger I met in Blogger Town (you know, the place next door to Fac.ebook and Mysp.ace?), Joanne just tagged me about a week ago and it was about gosh-darn time I get to it. And because she’s also “Flip“, I figured she might forgive me for following the typical Filipino Time protocol. So here goes …
1. Why did you start your blog?
Well hmmm … I’ve always just loved writing. It’s a way for me to express some creativity and allow me to vent. Back about five years ago, when I was deep in the heart of my IF journey, my Mom had made a simple comment that I should start writing like I did back in high school and college, using the letters I wrote to my cousin as an example. My cousin and I wrote letters much like the two characters in “Beaches” did. She was, in essence, my “living journal” at one of the most confusing and hormonal times in life.
Now, I’ve been somewhat of an inconsistent journler all my life; always starting one but then losing interest in it after awhile … which is why I didn’t start this blog until just over a year ago. I had finally gotten to the point where stuffing my feelings to “Save Face” just got to be way too much. I had to let it out somewhere. And because I wasn’t able to share this confusing and hormonal time of my life with anyone close to me … well, it only seemed natural to put it up on a blog to see if anyone out there could even begin to understand the kind of emotions I was going through.
2. How did you come up with your blog name?
Well … I suppose it’s much easier to send you here to read about my name. Much easier than having to cut & paste. And you get the added benefit of not having to read it again if you’ve already read it.
3. Do your friends and family know about your blog and what do they think?
Amazingly, yes. Not all of them read it, but they know about it. The one thing that I’ve found really great about having my family read it, is that they can finally be able to realize just how much of my life has been about my infertility and how hard IF’s emotional toll has been on every aspect of my life. Filipinos tend to avoid talking about difficult issues such as drugs or divorce or … gasp … infertility. This goes back to the whole “saving face” thingy and the extreme loneliness that becomes part of it. By putting my blog out there … well, I’m still able “talk” about my infertility while still being able to show up at family dinners or other social functions without feeling as if I’m “broken” or “weak” or just plain “out of control.”
As far as what they think … well some of my IRL (in real life) friends have posted comments to show their support and agree (or disagree … I love getting perspective from other people) with what I’ve written. As for my immediate family … My Mom, as I’ve mentioned in passing before does read it … albeit inconsistently, as she confessed to me. My MIL (whom I truly love and respect) has admitted to reading my blog, which again, is a good thing. She has, in fact, told me many times that she never truly understood how and/or why I felt the way I did until reading my blog. I also know that my (currently) pregnant-SIL reads my blog … and I’m sure that what I write may have hit many-a-nerve with her. It isn’t meant intentionally or maliciously to hurt anyone’s feelings … it is simply my thoughts, my feelings, my way to vent. I don’t think Dr. Brother or Dr. SIL read this blog, but I could be sorely mistaken. And I know that Hubby reads it. If anything, he’s the one that will reach out and hug me when he sees the sadness in my writing. Or laugh with me about some of the silliness I write.
4. How do you write posts?
I guess it varies on my mood from post to post. Mostly, it’s just me writing about me in the first-person perspective. Other times, when I’m trying to be vague, I’ll take on a third-person narrative … but if I start writing like The Rock talks … someone should just virtually slap me. “Can you SEEEEEEE … what the EM is writing?!” 😛
5. Have you ever had a troll or had to delete unkind comments?
Thankfully no trolls. And thankfully no unkind comments. I do get some unsolicited comments with some sort of “sales angle” that WordPress sometimes misses … and those I will delete. Otherwise, I’ve found that any person that has commented on my blog has been extremely nice and empathetic. I’ve “met” some really cool internet buddies this way. And I hope to continue to do so. So for those that might just be lurking … please please, pretty please … I’d just LOVE to “meet” you!
6. Do you check your stats or care how many people read your blog. If you care how do you increase traffic?
Yeah, I admit it. I’m a sucker to see how much my blog gets viewed. I don’t know why. It’s not like this is some sort of “popularity contest.” Really, I just want to know whether or not some one finds some interest in what I’m writing. And I’m hoping that perhaps someone else might find comfort in knowing that they’re not alone in what they might be feeling.
I really don’t do anything to increase blog traffic. I hate the thought of placing ads on my blog. Because even if I do like my electronic “toys” and designer “duds,” I’m still a “respect mother earth” and “there’s gotta be a better way” liberal at heart who absolutely hates mass production and consumption.
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So that’s that. I might be a little “late” in responding to this meme, but if there’s yet another thing Filipinos are good at … it’s making sure that they follow through in any promises or obligations sent their way!
Now …. hmmm. Who do I tag? I think I’ll ask twoPINK! and kcmarie122 to be the next victims. But don’t feel like you absolutely have to do this just for me … ’cause i’d hate to think that I “guilt-tripped” you into doing this.
How very un-Filipino of me. 🙂 Continue reading “Flippin' Blog!”
The Brown Paper Bag
Beneath my bathroom sink, there lives a brown paper bag. The contents of which were too large to fit in my mirrored medicine cabinet. It’s been residing there for the past four-plus years, maybe seeing the light of day once. Okay … twice, when I organized everything in that bathroom sink cabinet.
The only other time I took it out, was about two years ago. At that time I was debating what to do with all the syringes, needles and vials of medication that inhabited that brown paper bag. The first thought that came to mind was to donate its contents to the physician’s office of whom originally prescribed such medication to me. But then I thought of the last time I had been to his office, and memories came flooding back; quite like a tsunami hitting the coast of an otherwise tropically calm shore.
I thought of how many months I stuck myself in the thigh with those needles to deliver those extra doses of hormones. And I thought of those times I made sure I gave myself the injection at around the same time each night. I even thought about the small bag that contained my “supplies” that I carried on those nights when we knew we would be spending much time with family; for young cousin’s birthday party, or another relative’s baby shower, or a baptism where Hubby & I would be named as Godparents.
I thought of the multiple trips I took during a given week in my cycles to get poked for blood. And thought of how many times I had “dates” with the Ultrasound Technician and her “magical wand.”
And finally, I thought about the multiple trips I took to three separate specialists office at different times in my life. The first of which fed me month after month of Clomid for a year; which now I wish I would have questioned earlier. The second that thought by doing a laparotomy followed by six months of Lupron would jump-start my system. And then put me on more than 8 months of medicated cycles; and after each cycle told me that this month, with the changes of medications or dosages in these injectable meds, that “this would be the month.” And whenever I brought up the idea of doing an IUI or an IVF cycle, pooh-poohed my thoughts. And finally, the last specialist who actually listened to me. And ran just a few more tests on me to diagnose me as “insulin resistant;” not quite PCOS, as I was still cycling every month, but enough that I was finally put on metformin.
Things started to feel better after being with this third specialist. The metformin miraculously made me “feel” better, if that makes sense, and the low-carb diet did wonders for my weight. It was then, that Hubby & I decided to go for In Vitro Fertilization; or IVF. Or the big guns; as I call it. And we were told that our best bet was to have it done with ICSI; meaning that IUI (intra uterine insemination) wouldn’t work for us. So Hubby & I found creative ways to finance that IVF cycle, and well … we all know the end result.
Because, quite frankly … I wouldn’t be writing this kind of blog if the results were any different.
About two years ago when I initially took out that brown paper bag and briefly thought about donating it back to my RE’s office … well, I got angry. And then I thought about how much money Hubby & I actually spent for those supplies and still didn’t end up with the results we wanted. And I ceremoniously shoved the bag right back under the bathroom sink.
Today I stumbled back on that bag, which had found its way to the very back corner of the bathroom sink cabinet. Without thinking twice, I opened it up once again and looked at its contents. And in the two years since I’ve seen it, I realize that it looks the same. Again I thought about donating it back to my RE’s office; whom now I haven’t seen in over four years. But as I glanced at the two boxes full of vials, I realize that the medication had officially expired over the past year.
So what did I do this time? Well, I took out the vials of expired medication and threw them away. And I closed the brown paper bag once again, this time with just the needles and syringes, and stuffed it back underneath the sink.
Well … at least I made a little progress in moving past my one (and only) failed IVF attempt. At least I think I did.