Ever wonder what $5,000 worth of medication looks like?  Try an 18″ x 18″ cardbox box filled to the brim.  Doesn’t sound like a lot, but, goddamn, that’s a lotta cash.  That’s the little surprise I got from Mr. Fed Ex this morning.

I’ve said – and still maintain – that we’re very fortunate to have insurance to cover a large chunk of this procedure.  Heck, that’s the main reason we’re doing this – we’re being forced out of this insurance plan in December and it’s the only plan in the state of Louisiana that offers fertility treatment benefits (another story altogether).  But, that said, we’re still forking over at least $3,500.  Did you know that we could’ve gone to Cancun, had the practically the entire trip (room, board, meds, docs, procedures, you name it) done for the same $3,500?  Seriously, if we have to do this again, no if’s, and’s, or but’s, we are going to Cancun.

But, I digress.  Back to fun Medicineland.

I’m supposed to take all of that in the next three weeks and not feel like a total fire-breathing meltdown of a humanoid?  Just looking at it made me go all hormonal.

Yesterday, the acupuncturist poked me in places that were supposed to help with this new fun trend of sudden meltdowns.  If my reaction to opening the package is any indication, the poking didn’t work.  Oh yeah, the spontaneous crying has continued; it got so bad that I broke into tears yesterday in the car listening to Rush Limbaugh (ok, perhaps there could have been a subconscious reason for my tears, like, maybe my masochistic sense of entertainment being to keep in touch with right-wing wackjobs).  But, seriously, I’m already feeling pretty wracked and we haven’t even started.  I suppose this is where the positive manifestation comes into play…

And then there’s the needle issue.  I wish I could show you the needle I saw in that package.  That is not a tiny needle.  That is a motherlovin’ NEEDLE.  And they want Baby Daddy to do the honors.  You should have seen the practice round at the clinic – the nurse’s advice was to shove it straight in all the way, “like throwing a dart.”  Really?  My butt is now a dart board?  I love B.D. to death, but I’m a little nervous about being on the receiving end of his shots.  Case in point: he’s out of town visiting his family for his mother’s 60th birthday and I just texted him suggesting that he consult his cousin, the nurse, about giving gentle shots with big needles.  His response?  “Oh, the bigger the painless’y. xx”  Can you feel my anxiety level rise through the ethernet cables?!

Sometimes it (“it” being this whole thing) hits me anew, smack out of nowhere.  This morning, I was at the dog park when it hit me again: no, this is not a month-long cleanse; no, this is not a diet change; no, this is not a fad or trend or something to experiment with.  This is it.  This is going to be my life.  If this works, I will be continuing on this path forward.  There is no “stop” or “pause” anymore.  We went through the starting gate already, only we didn’t really even know to acknowledge it as such.  We are now running the race, or marathon, to be more exact.

I am thankful that all things are working in divine order for the highest good of all beings concerned.


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