A funny thing happened on the way to cycle.....

My mouth started to hurt on Wednesday.

It began to be sensitive to heat and cold. Fairly soon every shade in between would trigger the soreness within my mouth.

This wasn’t a new situation. My history of sinus issues meant I had maintained a close relationship with my friendly dentist. The last time I’d experienced a sudden build in mouth pain I’d had a panic and got myself to the dentist the very next day. I’d been delaying having sinus surgery for almost a decade. There had been previous evidence that there were sinuses draining into the roots of some teeth. On that occasion the dentist examined carefully, called for far too many x-rays a before finally announcing that there was nothing wrong with my teeth. I needed to look to my sinuses for the source of the pain. Within months the massive three nasal and sinus procedures would be performed. Recovery would be slow, but I was rewarded with the ability to breathe through my nose and far less infections and headaches.

So why was my mouth hurting now?I decided I would tough it out. I didn’t want to embarrass myself with another unnecessary visit to the dentist. Some simple over the counter pharmaceuticals would cure all ills – or so I thought.

Wobbles had flown interstate the same day it had started. I tried not to think of all the times I’d had little medical emergencies when he was away. No, I would be alright. I was certain.

Finally our donor cycle was about to happen.  Egg collection would take place (hopefully) in just over a week. I needed to keep my head together and relax; try to enjoy the process. Prepare for maybe our second chance at embryo transfer in six cycles. There was a lot about to happen. I had no room in my life for a sore mouth.

By Friday, the pain was still there. Too late in the day to consider getting to a doctor, I had to admit the pain was getting more frequent and stronger.

On Saturday I continue my new daily habit of walking laps at my local indoor pool. The idea was to strengthen my lower back. I’d met a whole gaggle of fellow ‘water walkers’ all with all manner of injuries we were attempting to rehabilitate. It had begun to be a fun time. Saturday evening I walked at the pool with Ange, we hadn’t seen each other for a while. We’d had fun in the pool and I had previously shared some of my IVF story with her. She knew that soon I’d have to have some time off from the water on the advice of my fertility specialist (to avoid the risk of infection after embryo transfer). I planned to live up my last days of pool freedom until then, and shared various laughs with Ange. I’d dosed myself up with some more mild pain relief before venturing to the pool. Towards the end of the session the pain kicked in again. Rubbing my face, I explained that I thought my sinuses were hurting, or maybe it was my teeth. Ange launched into a humorous tale of the lengths she has gone to  avoid modern dentistry. Fear has led her to keep her impacted wisdom teeth into her late 30s.

As we stepped out into the cold night air before parting I felt the pain in my mouth take hold and seemingly step up a notch or two. That is my last real memory of that weekend before the pain really began. I spent Saturday night – still Wobbleless – trying to convince myself that the pain was no where near as bad as I was beginning to think it might be. ‘Progesterone!’ I thought in a Eureka moment. Maybe I had some kind of bizarre sensitivity caused by the dreaded IVF meds. I even Google my new medical theory. It would be okay if I could just make it to Monday when I would definitely seek out a dentist or a doctor.

The pain was now like contractions. Coming in smaller clusters; the time in between decreasing. First thing Sunday I made my way to my closest pharmacy and asked for the strongest over the counter pain relief they had in stock. Instructions on the packet recommended they be taken four hourly. As the day progressed those four hours became two. I started continually massaging the roof of my mouth and anything else I imagined might help.

Wobbles would be flying in shortly after midnight. It was too late to make alternative plans to get him from the airport. My focus would now be on being conscious for the all-important drive to the airport to finally be reunited with my gorgeous Wobbles. As it came closer to the time for me to leave for the airport I started making calculations; the pain relief would give me some help for up to an hour – tops! The journey there should not take more than half an hour. But they also made me sleepy, and so driving was not a good idea. My master plan was sealed – take just one tablet (instead of the usual two) half an hour before leaving. I could get there pain free AND awake!

Pain addled reasoning is one thing from the relative comfort of home. Out on the freeway it is another thing. My eyes seemed incredibly light sensitive and I found myself driving with eyes squinted against oncoming traffic. I drove slowly. Very slowly and at times was 40 kilometres under the speed limit. Making it to the airport to find the plane was slightly delayed, somewhere in the minutes I waited for Wobbles things either caught up with me, or maybe they just started to deteriorate.

I’d only communicated vague references to my situation via telephone to Wobbles. The moment he passed through Arrivals I thrust the car keys into his chest and said ‘My mouth’s sore….you’ll have to drive!’ Moments back down the freeway it began; the most horrific pain I have ever experienced in my life. At first I wanted to conceal my condition from Wobbles. I hoped the darkness would hide my pressing my feet into the foot space, and pushing my hands flat into the car’s ceiling as the pain increased then eased ever so slightly. I tried shallow breathing. It was no use; all that was left was to cry out in pain. I worried about distracting a nervous Wobbly driver from night driving but I could no longer keep it in.

‘Oh Darling….are you okay?’ Wobbles asked in between my cries.

‘Just tell me a funny story -’ And Wobbles did his best under difficult circumstances. He made up a impromptu fairy tale of two kitties named Bella and Bosco who went sailing in a row boat.

We just had to get home. Everything would be okay at home. Somewhere out on the freeway Wobbles asked me if he was turning off at the correct exit. I couldn’t see the sign. Now I knew I really was in trouble!

We decided it was way too late to see help to  in a town of this size. Help would have to wait until morning. After an agonizing night Wobbles began phoning around on my behalf. There was no assistance to be found.  A second call to my usual dentist surgery paid off. Wobbles got me an emergency appointment. Only problems being the appointment was not until 2.30 in the afternoon, and the dentist was located in the next town over an hour away on a country highway.

Later that afternoon a dentist (not my usual dentist) examined, x-rayed and drilled in an attempt to locate the problem. An ancient filling was removed. And far too many needles were required to numb the suspect area. Yes, I could most certainly feel the cold stick! I felt ill. Really ill. What would happen if I needed to vomit while in the dentist’s chair, I wondered? ‘Next patient!’ the receptionist’s voice boomed over the intercom. But we were far from over. More drilling. Lots of poking. Finally a second dentist was brought in for a second opinion. Stressed dentists can never be a good thing. He dropped a tool and swore. I was in pain, and now I was getting scared. He did something, and my tooth really felt it. Finally, there was an answer. A tooth no where near the pain had a small fracture. The tooth was infected. Nerves and sinuses were implicated. The tooth had been healthy prior to the fracture, but there was no choice but to extract it. There was another problem; this would require a specialist’s treatment. A complicated extraction it would need to be done while under general anaesthetic and day hospital admission. Two and a half hours of dental treatment and I was sent on my way with a tooth ‘packed’ with pain relief and an appointment to see an oral surgeon in two days.

That night I could only sit and be amazed at the turn of events and enjoy the slide down from extreme pain to mild pain. I could go back to looking forward to the cycle. Egg collection might only be seven days away. I felt beaten and pummelled, but I was feeling better.

That feeling lasted until morning.

On waking I noticed my head was somewhat sore. No stranger to headache I thought I’d wait to see if the soreness eased. It didn’t.

Wobbles had left for work, and I was having trouble moving. The nausea was undeniable. I suspected I was moving into my first migraine in some time. The vomiting started, and didn’t seem like it would stop. I laid still and hoped it would ease. I took small sips of water. I managed to bring a phone handset by the bed. Early afternoon, the phone rang. It was Wobbles ringing to check on me;

‘Head….Sore!’ was all I could manage.

‘I’ll be right home!’ Wobbly help was on its way.

For the second day in a row, Wobbles drove me off in search of medical help. My general practitioner’s surgery treated me well. I was in too much pain to feel embarrassed about the continual vomiting. An anti-nausea injection and a prescription for pain relief and we were on our way home again. The next day Wobbles would get me out of bed and take me to the appointment with the oral surgeon. The oral surgeon listened to our worries of how my situation might play havoc with out IVF plans. He then scheduled me in for emergency surgery for Friday to have the extraction. He went as far as saying he believed the pain of that kind of infection was worse than contractions. I wondered briefly if this should be enough to put me off trying to conceive. I was prescribed anti-biotics and strong pain relief. We agreed that in the confusion my dentist had forgotten to provide me with something to treat the infection, and that the GP would have assumed that the dentist would have taken care of this. I had not been in any condition to think of it myself. Thankfully the oral surgeon was on the case.

Thursday, for a record-breaking forth day Wobbles escorted me to a medical appointment; this time it was for the all-important uterine lining ultrasound for IVF. Still dazed and hurting, we almost forgot to ask the questions Dr Loverely had suggested we pose to the ultrasound technician about the fibroids.

That afternoon I received the clinic call and was told my lining was dangerously thin. A second ultrasound would take place the following week, and Dr Loverly had requested I start using patches immediately, and to start the progesterone pressaries in a few days. The oral progesterone dosage would be increased from that day also. Struggling to record all the details, I was annoyed that Wobbles had handed the phone to me to me in the first place. I blurted out something about my week so far, and mentioned the oral surgery and the clinic nurse immediately started talking about cancellation, that she would speak to the donor; “she can stop stimming now, and she could do it for you next month…”

I went into a mini melt-down, quickly jumping ahead to see more doom and gloom haunting yet another cycle. It couldn’t be? Usually a fertility specialist would be charged with the decision to cancel a cycle. It was a tricky situation. We were relying on an unknown third party. The nurse knew the donor, and our specialist was off-site in another city. One casual word to the donor and the donor could change her mind. A sore heart now joined in to keep my sore head and mouth company.

Wobbles made phone amends by tracking down Dr Loverly and pressed upon our fertility specialist that there was no need to cancel the cycle.  Of course, my lining would need to pass the magic acceptable lower measurement to see us missing out on transfer. Dr Lovely agreed that cancellation was not an option at this stage.

The oral surgery would round out five days strait of medical treatments with a Wobbly support. After the procedure Wobbles would tuck me up into bed while he read up instructions on the various medicines; post-surgical, pain killers and hopeful lining thickeners.

Right then I was too tired to contemplate linings, cancellations, egg numbers and fertilization levels. Recovery was needed then. Thoughts of IVF would have to wait until tomorrow.