The Loneliness of the Long Distance IVFer

Tomorrow I return to the city for that all-important extra ultrasound to see if Cycle IV is still viable.

This seems like so much time and effort just for a 5 minute assessment that is highly likely to bring bad news.

This increasingly torturous journey is quickly becoming some IVF rite of passage. My IVF hopes and dreams grow, twist and shrink with every bend along the way. By the time the city is in sight, my thoughts have processed every possibility many times over.

Sometimes I try to imagine how I would feel about IVF if travel wasn’t a factor. Then I think of those who travel overseas and interstate for the same purpose, and wonder however they manage to survive it.

Distance means usually leaving the day before tests and procedures are scheduled. We returned late Saturday from the last appointment. The next appointment takes place early Wednesday morning. The time in between has been spent recovering, worrying about the cycle and dealing with a rapidly deteriorating lower back problem.

If I spent less than an hour travelling to the clinic, would I feel less overwhelmed by all of this? Probably!

By rights I should have left this afternoon on the train and stayed the night in a motel near the clinic. Problem being (apart from the ever increasing costs) the fact that it is winter and my back is now at its IVF all time low and has in the last 24 grown completely ‘unstable’ (the physiotherapists’ term not mine). I just could not get myself ready quickly enough for a night away in a back unfriendly motel bed, after 3.5 hours on a cold country train service, followed by a couple of hours spent travelling between suburban train and tram platforms to get closer to the clinic location. This would then be followed by the early morning dash to the clinic by taxi.

On leaving home last Friday for the railway station, my pre-booked taxi failed to show. Pacing outside the house, I put through a frantic mobile call to the taxi service. They were suddenly extremely busy and could not guarantee to get a car to me before train departure time. The rush of blood to my head meant I momentarily thought I was having a stroke. My own car wouldn’t get me to the city to meet Wobbles who had driven down earlier. Would I be able to find a hire car at late notice? The morning train service would not get me there in time.  In a flash I saw even more costs piling up. A frantic waving down of a friendly neighbour saw me climb on that train just as it moved out from the platform. I spent the journey feeling ill with further thoughts that this cycle was somehow cursed.

My logic decided it was best to drive tomorrow leaving around 5am, completing the round trip all in one day. All choices mean it will be tough on the old quickly fading back, but this is the quickest option. As long as I have some feeling in my feet, I can drive Wobbles’ heated, automatic relatively comfortable car with power steering. The journey is 3.5 hours to the city, with additional 40 minutes added to get to the clinic. Over eight hours driving? I can do it….yes I can! This method will provide the least exposure to the elements, and will be the most time effective means of travel, even if it means dropping off Wobbles at his work before dawn!

The last clinic was close to the centre of the city. A ride on the early morning train followed by a quick tram ride could get me to the clinic almost on time. However, this came unstuck after successive run-ins with morning fog and mid city strike action delaying all travel. Clinic staff were not sympathetic. Their reactions adding to my stress with relative ease.

Where my deep seated fear of public transport started, I am not sure. Living in the city for the best part of a decade saw me manage to all but avoid using trains and trams. Now public transport and its associated problems are inexorably linked with my IVF attempts. Many a long lonely 5am start followed by the horrors of the return journey clinic results phone call from a nurse who just did not comprehend that mobile phone reception decreases over distance. There were also those fun times where I was asked to repeatedly recite my trigger instructions out in the middle of a crowded train carriage. There were also the inevitable bad calls bringing threats of cycle cancellation.

Something about a car journey brings freedom that isn’t otherwise available on these long hauls. I don’t have to sit, knees tucked up under my breasts (great for the back!) in the middle of five strangers. I can follow whatever route I decide on, and rest wherever I want. Filling in hours and hours of waiting time left by transport timetables that conflict with my own can be mercifully avoided by taking the highway.

The open road brings its own dangers though. Too much driving saw me make a stupid road error during the second last trip to the clinic. Possibly my worst ever driving mishap in what has otherwise been a very good record. Sure, there was no accident, but still my driving confidence was left somewhat in tatters. Next day on the way home, a faulty brake light led to an unscheduled freeway stop by an unfriendly member of the local constabulary. Hundreds of dollars in fines later, and this latest IVF cycle grew even more expensive.

Tomorrow’s trip sees me forced to leave Wobbles at home. Extra trips for additional ultrasounds were not part of his already tight work schedule. My preference is for him to stay behind and attend work in hope that he will be less stressed on the days he cannot avoid making this journey with me. Taking the car leaves him without transportation as he cannot drive my beaten up little manual runabout.

These last few days have been a slow preparation to this next trip. Trying to warm and strengthen my back and doing my best to cope with the growing sense of discomfort in my ovaries. Three daily injections of FSH and antagonist hopefully mean some expanding follicles. The only contact came from the clinic was in response to my own email. No reassurance there. Just the standard “all cycles are different…come and see me after your ultrasound” response from the nurse.

As much as I do intensely dislike the travel it is a necessary evil. If the cycle is to continue, there will need to be another trip for egg pick up and hopefully a further for embryo transfer. So when it comes down to it, I need this travel. The alternative is too awful to contemplate.

So here I go again. Before dawn I set off with the heater on full blast, a good selection of driving music, a hot water bottle tucked behind my back and my usual supply of diminished hopes and mild expectations.

Wish me luck!