Wednesday, 23 April 2008
Today I have to start IVF. Actually all I have to do is go to the hospital and have a blood test. So that's not so bad, is it? It does take an hour to get to the hospital on thee types of public transport and an hour to get back but actually I like public transport. As a writer, I don't go anywhere so even a trip on a tram, a metro, a bus can seem quite exciting. So surely it's not too bad then? The problem is the hospital. I absolutely hate the hospital. As soon as I get anywhere near the place I finish up in raging temper. People I know send me e-mails suggesting to me that I should meet up with this friend of theirs who is going through IVF, or they suggest web sites where you can read about IVF. No doubt these people are well meaning but I don't want to talk to anyone about this, I don't want to be informed about it, I don't want to become part of some cosy little group of women who are all going through the same thing. I'm too angry for any of that. All I want to do is scream and keep on screaming. The truth is that I just don't accept that I am a patient in an infertility clinic. I've been pregnant four times in the last five years so how come I'm being treated for infertility? I accept that I'm part of the Dead Baby Club, I accept that I am part of the Recurrent Miscarriage Club, I could even accept that I'm part of the Grief Has Ruined My Marriage Club, but I do not accept that I'm part of the Infertility Club.