I woke up this morning in my typical am haze, sat down to give myself my lupron, and freaked out when I saw I only gad 5 needles left. Then I realized, I only have 3 days of lupron left to give myself, because my u/s is THIS Thursday!!! Only 8 days left until transfer (providing everything goes as scheduled). From where I had to work so much last week, and so much of it nightshift (72 hours in 7 days), I had totally lost track of time. I can't believe it is right here around the corner. In some ways, I am so excited, but a very real portion of myself is dreading it. Dreading finding out the answer to whether this works or not. Dreading paying a loan payment 4 times a year for the next five years if it doesn't work. I'm just very scared.
Speaking of the 2ww, I'm wishing the best for my friend Miss. Stop over and wish her luck!
I'll let you know how Thursday goes!
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Donor embryos can work!!
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Dylan Thomas
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Dylan Thomas
1 comment:
Wow!!! It's really coming fast! I understand what you mean about the money. It really should be the last thing we think about, but man is it expensive and hard to swallow if it doesn't work. I've been through two and have nothing to show for it. It sucks.
I will be thinking about you on Thursday and wishing you so much luck and love. It is a hard road, but I'll be right here to hold your hand the whole way. :)
Thanks for the shout out!
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