Tag Archives: decisions

Formal decisions

*Disclaimer – this post was not written this morning, I am deliberately posting these entries on different dates so that I can be fully open about this IVF stuff without people knowing exactly what is happening when. It’s a self preservation thing, with all of the injected hormones I become a bit of an emotional wreck, and am saving myself the pressure of people curious to know outcomes before I’m ready to tell.

There are many added complications to the process of conception when that process is assisted by medical professionals. Most of these complications are best not thought about, or got out of the way as quickly as possible, but today we’ve had the dreaded consent forms. We get one each, and have to fill them in and sign them before treatment can continue. The questions start off fairly basically, the first page needs your name, address, passport or NHS number, and those of your partner, and the next page moves on to a basic consent to treatment and the use of our embryos to that end (well, duh). The later questions become more impossible to answer…

…How many embryos would you like to be transferred? More than one carries a higher likelihood of at least one surviving, but also means a higher risk of complications including miscarriage and threats to my health. There are pressure groups that advise just the one embryo each time, but the thousands of pounds we spend on each round of treatment makes it tempting to go up to the maximum of three…

…Would you like any unused embryos to be stored, if so how long for (up to a maximum of 55 years)? The top end of that is easily dismissed, in 55 years, plus 9 months for a pregnancy I’ll be 89. But when will be too late? We don’t have to use them of course, and we increasingly see this question as academic, as the quality of my eggs means that there are never any embryos of a high enough resilience to survive the freezing and defrosting process, but if this time is different, and they do seem more hopeful this time, how long?..

…In the event of your, or your partner’s death/mental incapacity, do you consent to your embryos being used in your own treatment? Others’ treatment? For research? For training purposes? How are you ever supposed to be able to answer that? It’s been such a long journey (so far) to this point, what if we both were to die suddenly, and we had said yes to our embryos being used for the treatment of someone else? Clearly it would make no difference to us, we’d be dead, but our family? For our parents to be aware that their grandchildren could be walking around somewhere, when their own children had never seen them, but then to deny someone else the happiness we seek…

…I’m not going to tell you the contents of the later pages of that form any more than I will tell you my identifying details on the first page. I’m not sure any of those questions should be given an answer, but of course, we had to put something down to be allowed to continue with the treatment. In contrast to the hope I spoke of yesterday these decisions mean that we start to think of the worst that can happen, as it turns out I’m not all that comfortable with that side of it either.

decisions decisions…

I’m currently trying, and indeed managing to lose weight. When doing such a thing it is important to have goals. And to reward oneself when those goals are reached. Without putting too many figures out there, I have reached the half way stage to my goal weight loss. This would appear to be a good time to reward myself. I had thought for a while that getting my hair cut nicely would be a good reward for this stage. There are many reasons that this is a good idea:

– It is not a food related reward, so wouldn’t put me back 3 weeks on my diet.
– My hair is really long, in the way and needs cutting
– Shorter hair would be far easier to mange
– Shorter hair would probably look nicer

… and not forgetting of course that hair’s got to weigh something, so losing some would actually bring me nearer to my goal weight!

Unfortunately there are also many counter arguments:
– I hate going to the hairdressers, it’s almost a phobia.
– My hair can look very nice when I do something with it.
– Rhys likes it better long
– They might not make a good job of it
– I’ve spent years growing it this long (OK mostly because I hate going to the hairdressers…)

So, should I get it cut? I make no promises to abide by any decision made in the comments box, but would appreciate your views (or suggestions for an alternative reward).

The reward I’m giving myself when I reach my goal weight by the way is decided and unchanging. Nintendo DS lite. In silver.


So you decide on the perfect book for your WISE buddy, but it’s also one of your favourites, and even if you did want to give away your copy, you’ve written your name in it, not subtle.

One complete trawl of all charity shops within a certain radius later, you give up and bid on e-bay. Is that a cheat? Tough.

There’s also the thought in the back of your mind that if you think it’s the perfect book for your buddy, the chances are (a) they’ve already read it, or (b) you’ve got them all wrong and they’ll hate it.

Ho hum.


I was having a discussion with a friend who claims that ‘oblong’ is a mathematical term. I always thought it was what we were told a rectangle was before we were told it was a rectangle.

Off to lunch now – has to be Mexican fries and a milkshake – the big decision being strawberry, raspberry or banana?


You have a choice. Tomorrow I am going to be unable to access a computer before about 11pm. If I were to pre-post tomorrow’s advent page at, say 5 o’clock today, would you promise to leave it ’till tomorrow, or would you rather wait until late evening? If you choose to wait, there is a chance I could find an internet cafe tomorrow and post it from there. Up to you.

Anyway, here’s day 14:

What's behind the square window?

The power…

I managed to bring the deacon’s meeting to a standstill last night. Being amongst the last few to arrive I tried to unobtrusively make my way towards a vacant chair, as I went to sit, the pastor looked up and stopped mid sentance and stared. Many embarrassing options went through my mind… was I stealing someone’s chair, was the zip on my jeans undone, was I half an hour late without noticing, had I walked in in the middle of a prayer… I decided to elaborate on what I thought was quite a likely one “I’m sorry, was someone sitting here?” The pastor, realising that the entire diaconate was as puzzled as I was as to why I had unwittingly made such an entrance smiled and said “Emily, I’d never thought of you as a handbag person!” I’m quite glad really, I’m not a handbag person, it just happened to be a bag that fitted what I needed to take. Anyway, the meeting was thus started in good humour, which lasted the rest of the evening, and we even made some useful decisions concerning the serving of coffee…