Day 4

Today I got a call from my nurse saying she as able to get me one sample box of Menopur, which is one of the injectable meds I am using. My insurance only approved coverage for 10 vials (which should be 10 days worth) even though my last cycle proved I am a slow responder. My insurance is a huge pain to work with. So much so that my nurse would rather call their drug rep and ask for samples than call my insurance and try to get more meds covered. The drug rep initially said she didn't have any samples to give until July, but somewhere was able to get my nurse one box, which is 3 doses. This will give me up to 3 more days of meds for a total of 13 days. This may not sound like that big of a deal, but it could make all the difference in the cycle. If my insurance won't approve any additional doses, then I would have to pay out of pocket and that would be around $110 per dose. Even with my insurance, the co-pay is $250. Anyway, my nurse is amazing and she has made this whole process a little easier.

Also, I wanted to share a poem that an online friend shared in one of the support groups I frequent. She wrote it to share on FB during National Infertility Awareness Week. Shortly after she shared this post with us, she found out that her treatments were successful and she is now about 8 weeks pregnant. I thought it was a good analogy and I can relate to the way she was feeling.

"I am running a race. A race I didn't sign up for. A race I didn't train for. A race I know nothing about. But deep down in my heart I know I'll find that rainbow at the end.

I hire coaches, paying them a lot of money to help me through it. But not even the most knowledgeable coach in the world can promise me that I'll ever make it to the finish line. They can't even tell me what mile I am currently on. I am struggling between giving it my best and giving up, between running as fast as I can and taking a break to save my energy. An exercise so natural to most is turning into a traumatic experience for me. 

Sometimes I feel I can see the finish line in the distance and get hopeful only to get crushed again and again and ending in hopelessness. And then I get back up and start all over. Struggling at every turn, wondering if I am going the right way this time. All of a sudden this race is turning into a full time job and an emotional rollercoaster that is out of my control. If I only tried a little harder, then maybe I'll get a little closer. And then again, maybe I'll never make it.

It's a lonely race most of the time - few people are running, mostly undercover. Sometimes there are family and friends standing on the sidelines trying to support, but they don't understand what all this running is about. And sometimes I feel like I am just running myself into the ground." -kati&jerry