June 2009


About an hour ago, I received a phone call from the fertility center.  It was my nurse coordinator.  The first words out of her mouth were, “We have a few problems.”

I felt the bottom drop out of my stomach.

She went on to tell me that I had apparently tested positive on the drug test.  My mind was immediately racing and I was cursing myself.  I don’t know why I was cursing myself.  I haven’t smoked marijuana in almost a year now, and I don’t use any other drugs, so I really had no reason to immediately beat myself up.

But then she told me that I had tested positive for opiates–for morphine, specifically.

I haven’t touched morphine in my life and I haven’t had any recent IV drips or anything (that I know of), so of course I insisted that there’s no way that could be.   She continued on.  I also, apparently, have a urinary tract infection!  I have no idea how that could be true either–I haven’t had any symptoms of a UTI in well over a year now.  Fortunately, the nurse coordinator seemed to be on my side.  She reassured me that from meeting me and looking at my history, she doesn’t believe that I would be secretly shooting up morphine.  After some discussion, I then remembered that I had been sick that day.  I was taking codeine cough syrup at night and cough syrup with dextromethorphan in the day–both of which can set off a false positive for opiates.

So mystery solved, right?  Not so much.  Policy requires the nurse coordinator to notify the recipients of my positive drug test.  Then it’s up to them to decide whether or not I get re-tested.  The nurse promised to tell them the whole story, but I was still nervous.  I had no idea if this couple were the kind of people who would have a knee-jerk reaction to the word “drugs” and not want to hear another word (read: ultra-right-wing conservatives).

As you can imagine, it was a nerve-racking ten minutes waiting for the nurse to call back.  In the meantime, I doubly cursed that cough that I had as well as whatever caused my phantom UTI.  I don’t enjoy UTIs.  Even if they are totally invisible.

Thanks be praised, the nurse coordinator called back and let me know that the recipients were fine with my getting re-tested.  My appointment is for tomorrow–I get to give myself injections AND have another awkward pee-in-a-cup.  But I assure you, I’m counting my blessings and staying as far away from cough syrup and poppy seeds as I can get.

I’m also celebrating with toast and honey.  Mmmm.

Or as Tyler and his roommates call it: Melty Rivers.

Or as Tyler and his roommates call it: Melty Rivers. I talk about food on this blog a lot...Maybe once I'm done donating I'll turn it into a foodie blog. Watch out, Pioneer Woman!

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Disclaimer: I’m doped up on codeine cough syrup and a cornucopia of other cold medicines as I write this.

This past Monday was going to be the longest of long days for me.  I had my appointment to take the MMPI (that psychological evaluation test) at 7 a.m.  and an appointment for a barrage of blood tests at the fertility clinic just after the exam at 11:15.  I had to work from 2 to 6:15, then rehearsal from 6:30 to 8ish.  Now, this may seem not quite so long at first, but keep in mind that I live 2 hours away from the clinic…much driving had to be done.

I had to wake up at 4 a.m. and leave by 5 a.m. to get to my MMPI on time.  Personally, I prefer not having to experience either 4 o’clock or 5 o’clock twice in one day.

Anyway, I had driven about 40 miles out and had between a half-tank and quarter-tank of gas left.  It was enough to get me to where I needed to be, but I thought, what the hell, might as well stop now and fill up.  It’s a good thing that I did, because that was when I realized that I had forgotten my wallet.

Yeah, I know.  Of all things to leave at home.  I was in quite a quandary–I would lose a whole hour if I drove all the way back home to get it, but I couldn’t drive all the way down without a license and then not have enough gas to make it back.  I tried calling the psychologist’s office and got a voicemail, which isn’t surprising, considering it was something like 5:30 in the morning.

Finally, I just said “F*** it” and started driving back home.  Actually, it wasn’t really driving.  It was more like flying low.  I was just about to hit the sound barrier when I realized that it was the ultimate in stupidity to be speeding and driving recklessly and also not carrying a license.  So I slowed down and made up for it by cursing myself the whole way home.

By the time I got home, it was definitely way too late to turn around and make it in time.  I called the office again and let them know that I definitely could not make it to the test, which ended up being alright.  The psychologist was very understanding and just rescheduled me for next Monday.  Now that the appointment was canceled, I actually got a chance to get two more hours of sleep.  I really needed it–been fighting off a nasty cold since Friday.

When I woke up, I went out to kill some time waiting til I could leave for my 11:15 appointment.  And that time was killed in an awesome way: eating a McGriddle.

Snapped this one in the McDonald's parking lot.  Betcha didn't think I could tan that well.

Snapped this one in the McDonald's parking lot. Betcha didn't think I could tan that well.

I don’t know what it is about me and having to eat horrible food whenever I’m about to partake in any egg donor-related activities.  I really don’t eat Zingers and McGriddles in my normal life.  Although, if there were no health consequences, I probably would.  I’ve loved McGriddles since they were first introduced.  As I sat and jammed on it in the McDonald’s parking lot, I found myself in awe over how the egg just did not look like any egg at all–at least, no egg from this world.  But I loved every bite of it.

Fast forward two hours of driving, and I’m at the fertility clinic fifteen minutes early.  When I set up this appointment, they assured me that they would have me in and out in a half hour, leaving me plenty of time to drive back and make it to work on time.  They ended up admitting me half an hour later than my appointment time, which got me a little miffed.  However, they did try to accomodate me and speed up the process.  Although that’s quite nice of them, I realized later that having your blood drawn and a physical examination at twice the speed is a little frightening.

I’m also proud to say that I lived through my very first person-awkwardly-standing-in-the-bathroom-with-you-while-you-pee drug test.  And if you think it’s hard having to pee in front of a short Asian lady a foot away from you, add the fact that you’re being rushed along to speed things up.  Makes it nigh impossible.

After taking away all of my urine and blood, I was whisked away to the physical exam, where I got to re-acquaint myself with the stick blender.  Fortunately, the doctor this time was much gentler and actually explained what she was doing as she went along.  All said and done, my lady parts are still lookin’ good and feelin’ great.

I did end up being ten minutes late to work, but fortunately my boss seemed pretty understanding.  However, by this point in the day I had almost completely lost my voice.  When I answered the phone at work, somebody called me “sir.”  Seriously.  I sounded like a pubescent teenage boy, but considering that I was in a comic shop, I guess I didn’t sound that out of place.

So the next thing on my plate is getting that MMPI done, getting the results back from all those tests, and going in to learn how to give myself injections (super excited).  I was going to leave a link to the McGriddle’s wiki page, but I’ve found something better.  McGriddle fan fiction.  I’m so glad the internet exists.

So the latest news is that the couple interested in me finally got around to putting down their deposit.  (You probably didn’t notice the ultra-fine print at the bottom of my 2-for-1 egg sale ad.  The deposit is a doozy.)

With that complete, today I was officially given the go ahead to start this whole process.  I also received a very complicated, specific, and lengthy schedule.  I have to adhere to a complex ritual of only certain numbers of birth control pills and for only a certain length of time in order to get my cycle all synchronized with the recipient.

At the same time, it’s been rather tricky to get my life all scheduled around this.  Between working, Romeo and Juliet rehearsals, bellydance class and shows, AND trying to pack up and move to LA by August,  it’s going to be ridiculously hectic trying to get all the pieces to fall into place.  Last week I scheduled my social worker appointment, my genetic counseling appointment, and my psychological testing.  Already, I have to try to reschedule the psychological testing because my work schedule changed.  Up to this point, I was kind of scoffing at any kind of pyscho testing.  “I’m not crazy!  It’ll be a breeze!”….but now as I survey the chaos my life is about to become, I’m not so sure of myself.

I did a little more research into this psychological test that I have to take.  It’s called an MMPI–Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory.  Wikipedia has lots of interesting information on it here.

That’s all I have to say.  I feel weird making a post without a picture…hmmmm……

A friend of mine was invited to a costume party this weekend down in San Francisco where the theme was "David Bowie."  She planned to go dressed as the above.  Unfortunately, today we found out that it was canceled because the ballroom where it was going to be held had a gas leak.  It's my theory that that the universe knew that the balance of awesomeness would be horribly upset by the presence of so many David Bowie's in one room and acted accordingly.

A friend of mine was invited to a costume party this weekend down in San Francisco where the theme was "David Bowie." She planned to go dressed as the above. Unfortunately, today we found out that it was canceled because the ballroom where it was going to be held had a gas leak. It's my theory that that the universe knew that the balance of awesomeness would be horribly upset by the presence of so many David Bowie's in one room and acted accordingly.