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I have this image in my head. It's the ultimate figure of what I would love to look like. It's not about being super skinny so I can shop at anne taylor loft or zumiez without feeling like a bloated cow. It's not about wanting to be the center of attention so everyone thinks I'm the sexy shit. It's about wanting to feel like I am in complete control and can kick the ass of anyone in the mood to push around the little people. Yea, I want to be like her.
It's the definition of Angelina Jolie's character in Wanted that I love, not the fact that she's a remorseless, gun happy, carnage leaving assassin. In Wanted Jolie is the lithe, muscle rippled antagonist that is charged with the training of James McAvoy. Who doesn't want to ripple and twist and be able to stride like a cat? Alright so maybe it's just me, but what can I say, it's just a little girl crush.
The things that dash in and out of my random head. I talk in first person way too much? At least it's not another infertility laden anger post! Let's call it a smallish change of subject.
Wanted was the recent eye candy for my post-late-night hospital visiting sleep deprived body. Sweet eye candy it was.
First let me begin by saying you don't go to see a movie like Wanted for the in depth complicated plot lines or Tolkienesque suspense. In hindsight you'll probably say it's a bit predictable and like great eye candy it's got hot bodies, fast cars, sweet action sequences, incredible special affects, fast and furious weapons of destruction and some gravity defying tricks. It's also got a some very unpredictable humor that makes you bust a gut instead of the normal first instinct of did that really just happen?
Wanted is about a cult "fraternity" of assassins who gave themselves the power of God and feel it's their place in the world to selectively snuff the life of those they choose in the efforts to make this a better world. Everyday joe's that you're always given a milky impression of their possible badness but not necessarily death warranting lives. I find that small detail to be water under the bridge, however, if confused read the previous 'graph.
James McAvoy holds the key to this little box. He's just another rat in a cubicle, punching keys too many hours of the day, days of the weeks and week after week of the year. He wants what we all want, something more out of life. Not just another link in the chain. So as only a movie plot can do, because let's face it reality is never so simple, fate sweeps his legs out from under his boring nondescript self in a late night pharmacy run. The rest of the movie being the metamorphosis for this little caterpillar. Trick is, he doesn't really understand how big it is until probably the last few frames. Delicious.
This movie holds a full supporting cast of overly testosterone driven, knife wielding, fist popping stars. There is spinning, weaving fabric looms. What, did she just say looms? Yep. There is the charismatic and charming Samuel L. Jackson who plays the Jedi-ish oracle who is naturally filled with this obscure knowledge of what McAvoy is destined to me and what the future holds. There is grotty, gritty, neat, dusty, tidy, extravagant, busy, crowded and quiet locations. It's quite the busy few hours.
Overall I have to say that Wanted is great fun and to me was the first movie in a long time that absolutely NAILED the last half hour with a tight twist and perfect bow. So not to be the movie spoiler, I won't. I will, however, recommend the action movie eye candy lovers to waste a few bucks and enjoy a local air conditioned padded seat filled theatre for some easy entertainment.
Wanted.
Filed under: Eye Candy Action Flick
Rating: A plus
A new keeper among the logs of Gone in Sixty Seconds, Fast in Furious 1 & 3, Mummy 1 - 3, S.W.A.T., The Italian Job and 300.
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Or maybe just little miss sarcastic bitch.
Sometimes I just have to shake my head and sigh about this whole infertility thing. It's hard, it's really hard. I tend to want to wander through the lanes of Desperation, Hopeless and Wasted Cause. Something that seems to come so naturally and sometimes accidentally to others is as elusive to me as catching a unicorn or money laden leprechaun.
Recently I heard the funniest story from a co-worker. She was describing how her fetus had grown from a split pea to a peach pit , no that isn't the funny part. She's so excited that the heart beat was so perky at her latest appointment. Due to some spotting issues she has also been blessed to have had three ultrasounds within her first tri-mester. All is well and good. I asked the loaded question: how did you know you were pregnant? She said she cried, and no I'm not talking the irrational weeks of depression either. I guess her boyfriend had told her he was going camping and she just started crying for no apparent reason. Being the non-emotional type her friend suggested she get a home pregnancy test and sure enough two home tests and a doctors visit confirmed her hopes. That's the funny part, she figured out she was crying for one single solitary crying jag.
I think I just vomited in my mouth.
Don't get me wrong, I'm completely happy for the girl. I guess she's been on and off birth control for the majority of the last 10 years and has been "trying" since February. Have I ever mentioned that I absolutely loathe when perky non-infertility laden folk spout the word "trying"? Oh I do. It makes me want to pick up warm sticky cow pies and fling them at their face. Than I want to fill their sleeping hands with shaving cream and tickle their face repeatedly while they beat themselves black and blue in their sleep. Seriously, if I took a test every time my overlystimulated emotions turned me into a weeping angry mess I'd own stock in the company. I'd be the primary shareholder and could possibly afford the dozens of IVF treatments it may require for us to actually conceive the much anticpated and desired parasite. But alas, I don't.
No, I do not have repressed anger issues and resent the fact you'd assume such a thing. After all, (I've said it a million times but enjoy repeating myself), I've been "trying" for 7 years and there's really only been one excellent bi-product of the effort. My already incredibly awesome sex life just continues to climb the charts, not that anyone wanted to know that but this does tend to be an infertility feeling blog at times. If I'll blog a bikini wax and an HSG than must we keep secrets like my sex life from each other dear reader?
Have I mentioned how much I hate Clear Blue Easy as well? I've become fairly certain that the entire pregnancy testing industry has a huge personal vendetta against me. On day 40, when most people see that happy symbol on their pee stick I get my favorite two words in the whole English language: Not Pregnant. Of course I do. What would ever make me think otherwise? Not the fact that I've had to become fanatical about counting every single day since January. Or the fact that I have been lead to believe that day 40 might actually mean something. Or the thought that slight spotting on Day 36 and 38 without any sympton of my cycle could actually give me a glimmer of hope that This might finally be That Time. [deep sigh.] Or the slight belief that the doctor might be wrong (gasp) and a low progesterone level might not prevent me from conceiving. No, none of that should have a bit of effect on my thinking.
Wow I am just all over the map today aren't I? Ooh pretty shiny butterfly ! Mine! Mine! Mine !!! Anyone else see Spiderwick Chronicles? It would clarify that statement right up.
So what's a girl to do when her cycle doesn't start so she can't start her next and heaviest dosage of Clomid that's sitting cheekily on her kitchen counter in it's brown wrapped package? What's she to do when the pregnancy tests are also negative? What's she do when she knows that she needs to be on progesterone ass-prompto when she finds out she is pregnant to lessen the chances of a miscarriage by week 12? She will do what Orlando Bloome did on Elizabethtown by golly! She will pick herself up by the bootstraps, stop talking in third person herself and only allow one day to wallow in self-pity. Than I will pick up my hook and yarn and polish off the Morgan-amigurumi doll and Mia's pretty pink scarf
P.S. The real cherry on the cake is that one of my close friend's on base's water just broke. I now get to spend the evening sitting through labor and delivery at the local Deaconess. Yes, that's how I roll.
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Mr. D has a very complex and intertwined family. If you don't believe me see if you can follow this little riddle:
I went to summer camp with both of Mr. D's sisters.
They aren't related to each other but they are related to him.
When they met they didn't know they shared a sibling.
I was married for two years before I realized I actually went to high school with the younger of his two older sisters, and the one he had never met.
That same sister walked with my ex-bro-in-law for their high school graduation ceremony.
His oldest sister was a BFF with my twin for many years.
I had a crush on his younger older sister's brother in high school, while her younger brother (not related to Mr. D) had a crush on me.
Mr. D's oldest sister had a mad crush on my older brother.
When it all came out of the wash the three of us girls were related and we never saw it coming.
Confused yet?
It's like this: Mr. D's dad has 8 children between 4 different mom's. The oldest 3, including Mr. D, were raised with their mother's and the youngest 5 with their father. Mr. D was raised with his mom and her daughter (his other sibling.)
Confused yet? To make it more complicated his oldest 2 siblings and youngest, are girls and the rest are boys.
Yeah, that's over 7 years of marriage pedigree allowing me to spit out them facts.
These little fun photos are from Mr. D and I's fun impromptu reunion with his 2nd oldest sister and her brood in the Rose City, yes Portland, Oregon recently.
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First: As I told Mr. D's nephew and nieces, SAY NO TO CRACK!
Second: How cute are they? I mean really ... stinkin' adorable.
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Yesterday my doctor uttered a phrase I've heard a few times already. I have low progesterone levels (based on Day 21-23 lab work.) She, however, added a new hook when I told her that it was Day1 and no, I was not preggers yet. Well of course you're not, with your levels the last batch of Clomid wouldn't have worked. What? Excuse me? Well thanks a lot. Couldn't you have mentioned this before I had my hopes up? Is it really that complicated to preface a 38-day period of time with 'count it down and don't dwell on the baby this month.'
Eragh!!! Enough of the feelings and mushiness, let's break it down on a definitive basis.
• What is progesterone? MedicineNet.com defines it as:
Progesterone:
A female hormone and the principal progestational hormone that is made mainly by the corpus luteum in the ovary and by the placenta. Progesterone prepares the lining (endometrium) of the uterus (the womb) to receive and sustain the fertilized egg and so permits pregnancy. Similarly refers to synthetic versions of the hormone. Also known as progestational hormone.
As you can see that seems a little more important than my first doctor initially let on. She (Dr. D), just mentioned that I would have to take progesterone as soon as I conceived, but didn't really fully explain why, that I can remember.
I think the doctor mentioned that I had a level of 1? After reading some articles that seems ridiculously low, so maybe she said 10 which is low but not crisisly low. Maybe? Hopefully? This little iVillage chat kind of concerned me:
Progesterone levels vary considerably from cycle to cycle and woman to woman, both non-pregnant and pregnant. So the levels can only be averages and they change with the timing of the cycle. In general, the midluteal (middle of the second half of the cycle) progesterone in a non-pregnant patient is 8 to 10, but can be as high as 20 ng/ml. In a pregnancy cycle, it should be greater than 10 to 12 ng/ml to have a better chance of a good pregnancy outcome, but in general, we like to see 16 or over.
Everyone you ask will have slightly different numbers. Also there are differences as to what to do if the levels are low, with some docs giving progesterone (pills, shots, suppositories) and others not treating unless there has been some proof of a preexisting low progesterone in non-pregnancy cycles.
This whole progesterone thing is a bit scary and daunting. The only relief, as you can see here, is that my diagnosis explains quite a few of my mood quirks and cycle problems. The majority of the sites seem to agree that low P-levels make it hard to conceive and harder to maintain the pregnancy without extra progesterone. Translation: High Pregnancy Candidate Risk.
I have found one site, www.ivf1.com, that contradicts the majority of the opinion. It states that a low P-level won't be as detrimental as the general consensus.
Most infertility patients are aware that progesterone is a hormone produced by the ovaries after ovulation. Many have been told be their doctors that if their levels of progesterone are low that they will not be able to become pregnant or sustain a pregnancy. The current understanding of progesterone indicates that this is not true.
(Interesting. If that's the case why isn't it supported by a lot of other sites like MayoClinic.com?)
Checking progesterone levels is a reliable way to determine whether a woman has ovulated. In most labs, a level above 2.5 ng/mL indicates that ovulation has taken place.
Beyond that, the uses of progesterone levels are "iffy" at best. There is little medical data to support the notion that "low" progesterone levels are associated with infertility or miscarriage. However, progesterone supplementation is an easy and inexpensive therapy which is thought to be completely safe. So most infertility specialists will "err on the side of caution". This means that even though it is likely that most women who are told they have low progesterone levels probably don't have a problem, the risks of treatment are negligible so why not?
The problem comes from doctors not explaining this philosophy to patients and instead let them believe that they have this serious medical problem which will keep them from having a baby without treatment.
From the sounds of things having a level of 1 still isn't that good, but there is hope.
The next stage is continued treatment. My current doctor, Dr. A (Dr. D moved on to family practice) has doubled my Clomid dosage from 50mg to 100mg for this next cycle. I'm not sure if the dosage is enough to compensate for the levels or not. I'm being scheduled for another 21-day blood test to check the post ovulation progesterone levels. She than has me tentatively booking my next apt, so we can discuss my fertility options to pursue, should this Clomid round should fail.
Not to self diagnose but I'm seeing that the low P-levels could be a sign of Luteal Phase Defect that is often treatable with Clomid and hopefully isn't the end of the world. Just see eSSORTMENT, can't they be the expert on the subject?
A luteal phase defect is a luteal phase below 10 days. This cannot sustain a pregnancy. This is because the uterine lining begins to break down, bringing on the menstrual bleeding and causing an early miscarriage. The number one reason for a luteal phase defect is low progesterone. A doctor can do a progesterone test 7 days past ovulation to determine exactly how deficient a woman with a luteal phase defect is. From that point there are several ways of correcting it..
. . . .
Probably the number one way a doctor will recommend to correct a luteal phase defect is through prescription drugs such as Clomid or progesterone suppositories.
(And I'll just stop there because even some details are TMI for my sensitive ears.)
So, what have we learned?
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* Celebrated Mr. D's birthday with a few friends at the lake. Translation: soothed the grumpy and newly arrived home travel monger with some beer, chow and chatting. Kicked him onto the lake with his only clothes, while the other half of us played a rousing and very interactive full contact keep away. Brutal and beautiful.
* Sunday was mostly lethargic and restful. Did a breakfast run with a Wal-mart and movie rental stop. Squeezed in a good 3 hour nap and worked on the Annie Oakley doll.
* Monday was another day of stillness. Worked through some laundry and more hooking. Mr. D got his monthly massage by Shandi while I tortured her 5 year-old Aedin mercilessly with a SpongeBob sprinkler and a water gun. Wrapped up the Annie Oakley doll. I'm really not pleased with the head but will be posting photos eventually I'm sure.
* Today has been fairly uneventful at this stage. My follow--up dr apt from my car accident went as expected. I'm healing nicely and can go back to my guerilla work out tactics. Mr. D took a morning run and the pets have been beaten some more
* On the LHAB front it's day 34 and who knows what to expect. I'm debating taking a preggers test on Day 38 or just saying frack it until day 45. My cynicism and irritability are running extremely high at the moment. That also may explain why my new doll looks like a mad scientist and why I'm can't get a work word out straight. This menial blog has been a serious of deletes and swearing at the new beta setup that couldn't keep up with my editing and clouded mind.
* Ooh! Ooh! Oooh!! My girl Lacey is back to her devious blogging ways and has restarted her Dandy Lions post. Go see it! Right! Now! I'm all estrogen'd up so DON'T MESS WITH ME! The first many posts have been very educational and entertaining in the home gardening foray. She's brilliant. Welcome back!
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This week has been scheduled to be a beaut. It's our first scheduled, paid week off together in 7 years. We've had bits and pieces off before, but never paid by both employers. It's also the first week off when we aren't jumping in our car and flying from family to family.
It's all about the gas money. As the prices keep flying up at the pumps, and after three emergency 20 hour road trips in May, the decision was made to stay put for vacation. I can't say that I wasn't going to enjoy the preplanned June road trip that was going to include a sweep from Central to Southern Oregon wrapping back through the I-5 corridor, but I do have to admit there is a big relief wrapped around my shoulders. Being forced into seclusion with the man I love just makes me giddy.
It's all about the rest and the random. From the sounds of things this week is going to be very busy. We've scheduled in things like jogging time, cleaning, yard work, swimming, garage sale prep, massage time, softball and I think a single trip to Hermiston to renew 's Mr. D's overdue drivers license. I think we'll try and restrain ourselves from bouts of lethargy as much as possible as well. Nap times will only be done on days that end in Y.
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My dad is an amazing person. He also is incredible because as you can see he managed to survive the last 30 years in a house full of estrogen and hormones.
This is me, Mom, Dad, lil'Sis aka Roo aka Buckwheat and THE TWIN aka Alfalfa aka Mrs. Brady. Can anyone see the family resemblance?
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It sucks when you have to admit that you suck. Especially when it's something that seems so basic and so grade school. I suck, absolutely suck at balancing a full time job, being a wife, hooking, blogging and being the numbers maestro. The financial wizbang of the house. The number cruncher to hammer out the bread and butter. The thumb sucker that's hiding under the desk of bills and paper pile and beating back the tape register with a plastic spoon. Back you evil monsters, back! You want my kidney? You can't have it! I gave it to you last month and I need the last one. How about a spleen? Will a spleen work? Is it really worth enough money?
So in the twenty-four hours between Wednesday night and Thursday night I went from wanting to get a huge crazy afro curl perm and physically pulling my hair out by the fistful and banging my forehead against my keyboard ... oops wood coffee table cause can't afford to replace the Powerbook. Why oh why, for the upteenth time I ask you, can't the transactions clear the bank THE MOMENT YOU SPEND THEM. See they've got me so crazy my caps LOCK is stUck ON!!! The we--todd-it Bank of America loves to pull these little pranks where a slew of random petty, under $10 transactions pop up nearly a week after they've spent.So when I skim my online banking I may see it, then it'll "disappear" when it goes from posted to pending to someone hand me some lube for the love of mike! It's just so frustrating to have to think that I'll be forced to feel the pressure of going back to a friggin' paper banking register. I went straight to online banking because it eased the pressure of the tumerous ache that never seemed to go away, especially on late working nights when the lava pile of unprocessed receipts would glare accusingly at me from across the room. I slowly but surely thought I had it down to a science. I'd check the balance a few times each day and it all looked kosher. Of, since things never seem as they appear in my life, I should've expected this little sabotage bull shit.
If I could have one thing at the world I would have a personal financial assistant that I could hand all my deposits too and get an allowance for my gas, food and menial expenses from. Than maybe after six months or six years, when they've rescued my smallish disaster I'm always trying to dig out of, they can explain to me how to BALANCE it all. Any volunteers? I'd smother you and love you and clean your house and wax your baby. Anything! Too much begging? I don't know any other way!
Sometimes I just hate being an adult and want to throw a huge pillow throwing, plate breaking, stomping, crying, blubbering mess of a tantrum.
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