Tag Archives: lupron

Chowchilla, CA


I forgot how these drugs impact me, but now I’ve been reminded.  I started Lupron, and within 2 days was thoroughly settled into the sulking rage that I had so conveniently forgotten that Lupron brought me.  That lasted about 7 days until I added the Vivelle dot estrogen patches.  Within a day, I slowly emerged from the sulking rage phase into the uncontrollably weepy phase.  Ahhhh, yes.  Sweet uncontrollable tears,  I had forgotten about you.  Look at me – I cry.  Breathe near me – I cry.  Shoelace tied too tight – I cry.  Unruly piece of hair that just won’t behave?  You got it – I cry.  I have to drink at least one extra bottle of water a day to rehydrate from all of the tears.  SAnd there are two other side effects from the Vivelle this time.  One oldie I had forgotten, and one new one.

I’ve never gotten sore boobs with Vivelle before, but holy crap!  They are big and achy!  I can’t even find a sports bra tight enough to keep these things from hurting.  That’s the new one.

But, the real other side effect is one I have never told anyone about except my wife. I feel like it’s time.  Because somebody, somewhere, needs to know that she is not alone.  Once, about 4 years ago, I was in this process, and I was in this same phase.  5 units of Lupron daily, 2 Vivelle estrogen patches changed every 2 days.  I was in the car, driving to a business meeting in Fresno.  The drive from Sacramento to Fresno is long and boring.  About 5-6 hours.  It’s directly down the middle of the state, on small roads, through farm country.  There are not a lot of stops, not many places to pull over, take a break, etc.  Just farms and countryside.

So, I’m driving to Fresno, all dolled up in a business suit for a fairly important meeting.  Well, about 4 hours into the trip, I have to go to the bathroom.  NOW.  It hit and needed to instantaneously be let out.  But, there was no option for pulling over, there were no exits.  No restaurants.  No gas stations.  No convenience stores.  Just fields as far as the eye could see.  5 minutes pass.  10 minutes pass.  Still nothing.  I started running scenarios in my mind on how I could pull over and go in a field….no.  I could not find a scenario in which this could be possible on this flatland as far as the eye can see.  But I had to go NOW.  I held it for like 20 minutes.  My colon was spazzing.  I was sweating, periodically groaning out loud, squirming in my seat, clinching as tightly as anyone ever has – it was seriously the most desperate I have EVER been to get to a bathroom.  And then I saw an exit…for Chowchilla.  Yes – they had a McDonalds!  There had to be a bathroom.

I jet off the exit, get into the parking lot, open the door and stand up.  And my ass explodes.  Explodes.  Not a little.  Explodes.  Not knowing what else to do, (I can’t get back into my car), I head into McDonalds, shitting my way through the restaurant, all the way to the bathroom.  It took me a good 20-30 minutes, and I did have to dispose of a few articles of clothing, but I eventually was able to get cleaned up.  I resumed my trip, significantly worse for wear, and held a successful meeting.

I had not forgotten The Chowchilla Incident.  It was such a substantial moment in my life, it has a name.  But, I had forgotten that it was Vivelle that caused The Chowchilla Incident.  So, this time around, I wasn’t as careful as I should have been.  You can see where this is going.  I was sitting at my desk at work, got the urge, and thought, “Well, I’ll just finish these last two sentences in my email and then go to the bathroom.”  Nope.  Big mistake.  I Chowchilla’d.  3 steps outside of the office bathroom door (which is incidentally no more than 25 feet from my office), with a co-worker about 4 steps behind me also headed to the bathroom.

So, other than the rage, the tears, and the pants shitting – I’m great!

And now you know my deepest, darkest, secret.



We’ve started IVF. I said I would never do IVF. That’s so much money and there are kids in the world that need homes. Adoption was a good option for me if it got to that point. But once I found out that the cost of adoption is more than the cost of IVF, I changed my mind. We are doing IVF with genetic testing. So, after they get all my eggs out and get them fertilized, cells from each blastocyst will be sent to a genetics lab to be tested for chromosomal abnormalities. Once those results come back we’ll know if we have anything genetically normal that we can try to get pregnant with. This is a very long process with a timeline that runs through the end of this year, so I won’t be trying to get pregnant anytime soon. I will, however, be on massive doses of hormones in the very near future so they can get the eggs out. Yay hormones. (sarcasm.)

The lupron this time around has had the interesting and not so pleasant side effect of rendering me unable to eat. I can eat, it just makes me massively illl and gives me intestinal issues to an extent that I won’t even get into. Suffice it to say, I would rather just not eat than deal with the indignity and pain of the intestinal issues. I’ve been able to eat applesauce and a few pretzels and I can drink water again now, so that’s progress. I was feeling a bit better so i tried chicken and mashed potatoes tonight – and now I am paying for it. Tomorrow I am back to applesauce.

I also haven’t been able to run outdoors since I started the lupron. I have to stay home and run the treadmill. In my current state, I cannot be more than 1 minute from access to a bathroom without risking a seriously humiliating incident. So, at least we have the treadmill. Even though I feel assy, I am going to try to run tonight. The doctor said once I start the hormones, I won’t be able to do any running for around 3 weeks. And I am very close to finishing the C25K program, so i am trying to finish before that. Once that’s done, I am going to start again at the beginning and try to increase my running speed and distance while going through the program again.

Anyway, turns out that IVF, while it seemed relatively straightforward, gets a lot more complicated when you add the preimplantation genetic diagnosis. There are a lot of variable they didn’t explain up front. It seems like you should get the education you need to make a decision BEFORE you write the very, very large check rather than afterwards. But, ok, we’ll make it work.

Oh, and there goes my stomach again…

I Shit My Pants


There.  I said it.

I have taken Lupron injections many cycles before and they’ve never had this effect on me.  But the pharmacy sent me a different brand this time and maybe that’s the culprit.  I don’t know what it is, but I do know that it made me shit my pants.

I was taking my son to preschool, which is a mere 2 minute drive from my house.  I felt perfectly fine when we left.  Happy, comfortable, not a twinge of discomfort.  About half way there, it hit.  I made the quickest U-Turn a human has ever made and in the minute or so that it took me to get home, I knew I wasn’t going to make it.  There was definitively going to be an incident.  So, here’s me – kid in the car, me tearing up in rage and humiliation as I shit my pants all the way into the house.

I left the kid in the car in the garage (It’s ok – he was safely strapped into his carseat, playing with toys, the car was off…he was safe).  It took a few minutes for me to clean up enough to go back out and get him.  I mean, he’s just potty trained himself – how the hell do I explain this to him?  Oh, and if you knew my kid, you would know that he’s VERY precocious and I would have probably been given an earnest talking to about getting to the potty sooner.  And then he probably would have gone to school and told his preschool teacher that Mommy had an accident in her pants this morning but it was ok because he explained to me that I needed to get to the potty sooner next time.  I could just see that all playing out in my head…I could see the preschool teacher looking at me thinking, “Wow.  You shit your pants…I would have never guessed you were a pants shitter.”

And so, I called someone else to come get him and take him to preschool so I could shower and get ready for work.  Again.

In so many ways, fertility treatments really rob you of your dignity.