C: This light is here to keep you warm

Ah, another R.E.M. lyric appears and we're only a handful of posts into the calendar.

Here's a moment to stay in, as long as I can. This morning was our egg retrieval -- our second and, it looks like, final one. It seemed to come so fast. This cycle was only a couple of days shorter than the first one, but January has just been such a blur that it seems like New Year's was a week ago and the first injection was yesterday. But it's all been a haze of appointments and needles and timers and early mornings and tears of anxiety.

The process is crazy-making. I shudder to think how actually having a child will likely be more stressful than the process of making one has been/will continue to be, but so far it's been a nutty time that has wreaked havoc on Mel's senses. As it turned out it was probably the wrong time to switch medications as the new meds didn't really hold up as well against the influx of hormones as the old ones did, but perhaps that was a good thing in the end because it showed what was working when the chips were down. Also the new meds seem to have given Mel something of a persistent ringing in her ears. That's certainly not a recommendation.

So we found out on the weekend that Tuesday would be the day. After the running-around Saturday we had Laura and Jake over for lunch on Sunday, putting together a charcuterie board for lunch, which was a big success although there were a few elements we could have left out (and saved in so doing.) It was a fun day.

Yesterday was all about preparation for today. We got up a little after six, quickly got ready -- not being able to eat or drink anything helps one's focus I suppose -- took the relevant meds and were off. The weather being so mild and wet in January is something I have mixed feelings about but it sure has helped us with this whole thing. We got to the clinic right for 7 -- before sunup, even -- and were eventually shown to the preparation area. The crew for the procedure was actually the same as last time, which was nice continuity, except for the actual physician. Mel was going in relatively confident -- she hadn't had a hard time on the previous round, physically speaking, and although anxiety always exists in every situation, she was doing well and seemed prepared. She had an earbud in reading A Rainy Day in Paris to her. It did seem like there was more pain and discomfort this time, though -- possibly because the Doc barreled through to the sometimes-hidden right ovary -- and I worried about her state, keeping ne hand on her shoulder and the other clutching a baggie of crystals she had put together for the day. I watched the lab tech nervously, even suspiciously, waiting for the count to go up. I had no idea what to expect. Egg number one... egg number two... egg number three... pause... egg number four... pause... last time, we got a mere five eggs. It would be simplistic and a little sad to say that that was disappointing at the time, but I knew it was not the ideal outcome, as not all of them take to fertilization and develop to blastocysts, so when five gets whittled down, you end up with, well, a smaller number, and that was tough on us. To go through all of that stress and anxiety and financial hardship and pinning out hopes only to get the same outcome, felt, well... like a very real but undesirable possibility.

Switching sides, the lull continued, until... 6, 7, 8... okay, we're really in business now. Before we knew it, the whole thing was over -- about 22 minutes into the rainy day in Paris for those keeping track -- and we had collected a rather impressive eleven eggs. This was an impressive showing, and they told us normally they aim for 6-10 so we were ahead of the game. An even dozen might have been cool, but 11 had us walking on sunshine out of there once we were ready, around 9 AM.

So we've felt good. There's a real positivity and hope that we are on the right track. Cautiously though. Not to put too much pressure on those eleven, because I know that number will go down and down as the next five days go on. It's a sad fact that we're prepared for but will probably hurt a bit nonetheless. I have a number that I'm hoping for when this is all over but I haven't shared it, superstitiously. 

Anything bad could happen -- and if it does it will be sad to someday stumble back into this post -- but the feeling right now is so good, so in need of preservation. I want to live in this moment as long as I can before we know what comes next.

I hope for the best -- in my heart I truly hope all eleven make it to day five against all odds -- but if we didn't put ourselves at risk of losing something, then nothing would ever happen.

Eleven eggs in the dish.

The rest of the day was relaxing. Mel rested but didn't nap, I worked on comic blogging stuff. We worked out an issue with our voice mail because some random code hadn't been applied to our new accounts. That was necessary because there's going to be news starting tomorrow and then every few days. Once that was done, Mel expressed desire for a waffle with ice cream. I was thinking of something a little more... protein with melted cheese on it-y but her wish was my command, and hey that's what we eat almost every day. I was originally saying, oh, I guess I'll have to go out to the supermarket to get some Eggos, but I made some crack about "Too mad Demetre doesn't deliver," and the light went on. "Should we go to Demetre?" Well, who the hell ever heard of going to Demetre at 2 PM without having been to the movies first, but yes, for pretty much the first thing Mel had eaten in 18 hours, we went to Demetre and had an ice cream waffle. It was a nice outing, then we came home and chilled, watched Degrassi and eventually ordered dinner, Mel's previously-selected choice of Swiss Chalet. Then after a call with Mel's mom we finished the book we were reading and tucked her in, and now this.

I've got the whole rest of my week and hopefully I am able to enjoy it. It's scary, you know, this knowledge that this moment won't last and that we can only hope the comedown is gentle. That's part of the moment, the fleeting nature of it. But here we are at the start of it, and it's amazing.

"It only takes one."

Keep on rockin'

-Scotto

Addendum: This is just to say that this is my 1500th post published, a completely arbitrary milestone I wouldn't even have noticed, except that I happened upon an old post where I note that I had done >1300 posts, and I wondered how much I had done since then -- early 2011. Surprising that there were only 300 posts between then and now, but it tracks of course. They slowed to a trickle for the next two years before stopping entirely and then gradually ramping back up after a few years when things had severely changed, and now here we are again. I don't even think every post could be my last anymore. We're also coming up on the 20th anniversary of the blog this spring (I wasn't posting during the 10th) -- what a time, what a life.

KOR again -- SAW

B: Mode and moment

It's feeling suspiciously like I've played myself. It's a quarter to 1 AM and I ought to be in bed but I threw some laundry on after waiting way too long to move a load out of the washer into the dryer. I should have cut my losses and just done the first load but we've gotten way too backed up lately, and we had it semi cleared out and I'll be damned if I'm going to let that happen again already. So I'm sitting up. I've got at least a half hour, let's do it.

I'm not a nostalgic person. I don't look back on the past with any kind of particular reverence, especially not as it concerns my life. I suppose in the grand scheme of things I do think back fondly on earlier days when I think about how terrible life on Earth is in the 2020's, casting my mind back into the unobtainable Then, when things were not perfect, but all the worst stuff that existed then still exists and then some. But that's more on a macro level.

For me personally, I don't. I have this whole blog and when I look back on it -- usually as a form of distraction -- I usually just shake my head. I do recognize the kid, and I guess I'm still him in every way that counts, but he had a lot of living to do and a lot of learning. Of course, on some level, he knew that. That was why he didn't believe in himself as a writer. No life experience, no romance, no confidence. I look at thousands upon thousands of old words and I think, just the primordial goo from which I emerged. If I thought I was whole then, I was kidding myself.

I'm still not, by the way, but a lot of pieces have been filled in.

During my wedding ceremony, the officiant Priya noted that we are born whole, not to be completed by another person. I half-agree. It wasn't Mel that completed or completes me, but I needed to be with someone to crack the code of who I am to other people. I knew I was never going to find out on my own and it constantly wrecked me. Now I at least know who I am to her, and that's all that matters. I have found myself. I have completed myself. Well, no, again, I am not complete, but I have certainly added to myself.

The focus of my ire at this time: early 2010, an era I don't often revisit. The kid! Twenty-two years old, brainy, anxious and grumpy. Working the register at HMV but not totally loving his co-workers, spending long days at University, watching the final season of LOST in a friend's dorm common room. (I sometimes wonder if I could have coaxed her to cheat on her boyfriend, if that had been something I wanted, but I would never.) Bleh, a bitch could go on and on back then. Sometimes a point emerges, sometimes I just shake my head -- he and I live in different worlds, you know. He thinks he's so smart, and once in a while he says something I admire, but I know he's got a lot of leveling up to do.

It has been a hectic month. We're on IVF again, but it's not going great. Mel is in personal crisis of body chemistry and I am a helpless spectator. Early mornings, shots, appointments, evening shots. Work... you know, they were trying to get her to fly out to California for the kickoff of her new project, and any other month that would have been pretty cool, but it was simply not possible at this time. They also dragged her out to Orangeville in what turned out to be a messy ass affair that did not make the week go any better. We have hardly had time to sit and take stock of what we are about to do. At least I haven't. We haven't given the situation due gravity, I suppose. I went to the office one day and saw people. Work has been hectic with a new release that is causing a lot more stress than anticipated.

There has been some good news though. We bought new toilets, which have been needed pretty much since we moved in. The upstairs never really flushed properly and the downstairs always ran long and although I suppose the standard move would be to try to fix the existing toilets, we took the opportunity to just get new ones. A tiny little piece of us making this place more ours. We went last weekend to Rona to look at some options and consult an expert. We booked a delivery and then I called around for quotes one installation. The one we hired was not the cheapest or the soonest, but it was the cheapest and soonest that would dispose of the toilets which was key -- I didn't want them sitting in the garage (I need to put the car in there when it snows) and I didn't want to haul them out to the curb. Just get them out of my sight. That's what money is for -- I don't have a lot of it, but that's what it's for.

I think about quitting my job but I don't take the idea very seriously. I don't think I would be happier at another job, partly because work doesn't make me happy. It lets me live so I can do the things that make me happy. Problem is, it's not quite giving me all the money I need to live, and my self-loathing self suspects that no job will because I don't see my own value, even though at the very least I am very good at this job.

I can't be sure but I feel like the other night I had a dream about work, and I mean this job, when usually my dreams involve being back at HMV.

I've been too busy to allow myself much distraction lately, which is poor for my morale, but that's how it goes sometimes. It will improve soon. I have this week off, and we have the procedure sometime TBD, and then the rest is gravy. Today I am embracing my need for escape. I do a lot for other people and I am present, and having a little corner of time when I don't have to be is what makes me happy and replenishes me. The world should want that for me.

I would love to use it to make money, but it stubbornly refuses to.

Mel and I were out and about today. She wanted to go to Staples for some items for her vision board project, and then we went to the grocery store to buy things for a lasagna, and for a charcuterie luncheon we're having with her sister tomorrow. It's perhaps a bit overdone -- we spent a lot on meat and cheese and crackers and olives -- but what the hell, man. I told her it's the charcuterie we didn't get at the spa (which, for what we paid, was a bit of a rip.) 

Listen to my problems today. Must be nice to be rich.

We made the lasagna together but she had a bit of an episode and had some very strong feelings about it. When they've become so frequent, it's very discouraging to her. She takes it hard, and personally, and it breaks my heart. We're doing everything we can but it's not enough. So tonight was not the best night. She felt so bad about not being able to enjoy the lasagna, after all that. I've always said, there's nothing worse than a meal not able to be enjoyed.

Well, there is, but it is on its own unique tier.

Last week, on Thursday, Mel had a social in the city so we both went in. I spent the evening wandering around, after procuring a South Street Burger for dinner. I went and took some pictures of the old apartment. And here I just told you I wasn't nostalgic.

I think that's all I've got tonight. We're almost ready to flip that laundry over and go to bed. Thanks to everyone who made this possible.

Keep on rockin'

-Scotto

A: Letter never sent

It feels like I could use an R.E.M. title for every post but I don't think I would.

Stuck in the mud, it seems. Every time I move an inch I'm two inches deeper.

I'm writing this post on my phone from the waiting room at the blood test clinic. I wanted to capture this moment because I so rarely post from anywhere but my desk and this sort of thing has been a key feature of last year and this.

I had a thought last night that made me feel a little guilty. The way I push this stuff out of my mind, like I'm in denial that we're even doing it, like it's not real, except during those times I'm discussing it with Mel or taking action. Like I don't want it to be real.

That's not the case, but you can't live with it on the tip of your brain forever. So I push it away to work and live and sleep and do those things that make life worthwhile (reading and writing.) How can that be wrong, why should it make me feel guilty? We have only made progress by inches and have hardly anything to show since last year. How could I possibly keep it on my mind 24/7?

What is right? Am I addicted to escape and checked out, or am I doing what comes naturally while doing my duty?

Well, I'm here, aren't I?

Meanwhile the house is a mess, there are piles and piles of laundry, clutter on the sink, schmutz on the floor, genocide in the middle east.

Like I said, stuck in mud.

We are trying.

So that's this small moment

Keep on rockin

Scotto

11:58 PM: Ne plus ultra

 Despite it already being New Year's day, I had started this post -- really just got as far as the title but still -- yesterday so I'm going to hold over last year's numbering scheme for one more just so I don't have to come up with another one on the spot (yes, that's a challenge I keep giving myself.)

We are now at the end of our busy lazy holiday season. Yesterday was our overnight trip. As is usual, the leaving and travelling was not without its stresses, but we left roughly on time, maybe a half-hour later than we probably would have liked. In the craziness of packing I forgot my pajamas and some jeans for the next day but these are ultimately things one can work around -- at least I didn't forget my swimsuit again. Mel drove, and it was nice, except that my phone reception conked out so I couldn't keep playing the playlist, but I did have the albums I downloaded to the phone. We were very fortunate there was no major delay on the road. I feel like back when I was a kid things were always being delayed but it's rare to experience as an adult -- maybe it's just that we don't go anywhere ever.

So it was an hourlong drive, roughly. Mel took the highway. We got there and the place -- the Elora Mill -- was on this very narrow street that was hard to negotiate, and there was a gate that made us think it was not for parking, so we had to circle around and then call them to ask what was up. Turns out you go to the gate and the bellman will help you. Schmancy. We got in and our room wasn't ready, which was too be expected, so we left our bags with them and headed to the spa. We got to enjoy the amenities, particularly the hot tub and also the heated pool. It was a cold day of course, but that really helped the vibe.

The massage was brilliant. There was some awkwardness because they got us set up then left us a moment and I realized, "Oh, we're supposed to be naked for this, right?" That seemed correct but you don't want to be naked when you're not supposed to be. I only had my damp swimsuit on at this time so nudity was definitely preferable if permitted. It was very, um, rejuvenating, shall we say. At times intense, and at times in a good way, eyebrows eyebrows.

After that they led us to a relaxation room but we couldn't relax very much because we were starving, having not eaten since a small breakfast 5-7 hours ago. We should have gotten some food as soon as we got to the spa (they'll bring you food right by the poolside, you know,) but we got caught up and besides it was a little hard to track down the server. Anyway, when we did, he obliged, and we had fries in the lounge area, although we could have taken them to the pool.

More hot tub, then we tried the sauna, which Mel determined was not her thing. By that time it was roughly time to go anyway so we headed out and went to our room.

Very luxurious. I told Mel it was the nicest hotel room we'd ever stayed in, by a lot -- and bear in mind Mel used to work for a luxury hotel chain, we just never got a really nice room there -- and my second-nicest overall since it would be hard to top the Presidential Suite we got to stay in at the Hyatt in Vancouver that one time when our room wasn't ready (it had two floors!) I had spring for a charcuterie board, which wasn't much for the money but we had to try it.

We showered in the extremely spacious shower stall, and enjoyed some non-alcoholic bubbly (we had asked them to bring it up in exchange for the champagne they had given us -- a good deal for them) then got dressed and went to dinner. Naturally it's very schmancy. It was around this time I was feeling somewhat dislocated, although I didn't bring it up to Mel. Part of it was feeling very out-of-place -- I don't know why, we were surrounded by other people probably in our same tax bracket that were treating themselves, but seeing all this opulence and decadence made me feel like I didn't belong, and part of it was a sad, creeping feeling that opulence and decadence, things we are conditioned to yearn for under capitalism, felt a little hollow compared to the simple pleasures of home. Maybe it's just me. But hey, it's one damn weekend of my life. After declining the steak dinner for 2 ($150 at MP) and the tasting menu ($125 ea) we ordered -- mushroom pasta with a short rib for Mel, lamb sirloin for me, along with cocktails (a non-alcoholic pear-based one for her, "Under the Tree" for me, which was gin-based with cedar syrup and creme de menthe so it paired oddly well with the lamb, which was not intentional.) We ended up with some to-go containers and declined dessert -- oh we couldn't possibly -- and entertained the waiter's suggestions of what to do in town, not letting slip that it was time to go upstairs and sleep.

I made a tea for Mel and some decaf for me, but it was Nespresso which meant it was cold and not so good. We took a bath and did some reading, then turned in for the night. Mel asked me to turn down the A/C because it was so noisy, but that was, in fact, the rushing river below us (the Grand River, in fact.) WE eventually settled in, although I had my usual problem with hotel pillows (too cushy.) Mel had asked me, somewhat skeptically, if I had intended to bring my own pillow as I did when we went to Oshawa -- not so much that she doesn't approve but I think she was feeling self-conscious about how much we were packing. I elected not to, and regretted it a bit. I used my old trick of folding up a towel. Yeah, I really like a thin, stiff pillow, but not no pillow.

We had ordered breakfast in advance, which came at 10, but I let Mel snooze a while before we ate. She got up in time to enjoy it, and then for us to pack and go. I was only seriously in danger of losing one item, her shampoo, although we had to be very thorough. We took a few pictures before departing -- and we realized we had left the cards in the room, which isn't a problem but if you realize at the last moment that something was left behind, it could be awkward. Doesn't seem to have happened.

I drove home, using the backroads route akin to how we get to the trailer. Google Maps had us go down what becomes Brant, which we adhered to but in the future I'd prefer Guelph. After the drive I was feeling stiff and saying I already needed another massage. Mel rested and listened to her audiobook and nipped out to the grocery store for some green onions, which Melo had requested for our nachos, as well as some dessert cupcakes (which Mel appreciated but said she was kind of over. Noted!)

Our New Years was chill as planned. We ate the rest of the dinner as a snack. We watched more of The Americans as we had dinner, then played Farkle and had a Mario Party in our Robes, just narrowly beating the team of Mario and Yoshi who had freakishly good luck with rolls and star placement. We actually tied in stars but were awarded the win based on, I don't know, being human or having more coins I'm not sure.

More TV, some bubbly at (a few seconds after) midnight, and then, honestly, bed. That's how we do, and we like it.

Big hopes for the new year. 2023 wasn't everything it could have been but we spent it doing things we liked and working toward things we wanted so how can I complain?

Keep on rockin'

-Scotto