Repeat FSH blood tests

My period arrived four days after our consultation, on March 24^th 2023. It was a Friday, as usual, but thankfully before 5 pm, so I was able to call and get blood tests booked for Sunday 26th. It was a pretty eerie experience going for a blood test on a Sunday. The hospital was so quiet, I could have sworn I saw a tumbleweed! Anyway, I called her secretary on Wed 29th as instructed. I was a bit on edge as I waited for the results, but in my usual “stoic” manner, I just kept pushing it away thinking there was no use worrying about it when I didn’t have the results yet. It wasn’t helped by the fact that in all of the confusion/shock, I hadn’t asked how and when I’d be contacted about the results. I must admit, it kept popping into my head, so I thought if I hadn’t heard anything by the time two weeks had passed (April 9th), I’d try calling the women’s health unit to see if they could tell me anything.

A letter arrived on April 4^th with the overview of our conversation as usual. There was a second letter with my FSH blood results:

Unfortunately, this has shown a result which is above the cut-off limit for eligibility for NHS-funded IVF. I cannot therefore refer you to Jessops for IVF unless or until we can achieve a level below the eligibility cut-off.

I am enclosing a couple of new forms for you to repeat the test on a couple of occasions over the next month or two. I would advise using the form with AMH on first. You can either do one test on day 2-3 and repeat it a couple of days later on day 4-5, or you can save the second form for the following month if the first does not show an eligible result.

So, I needed to do MORE blood tests. I was on my period when the letter arrived, so I needed to wait another month.

Continuing to struggle with mental health

I read it whilst making my coffee, about to sit down for work. I had a cry for a few minutes, trying to figure out the whole time I was crying what I was crying for. What I was feeling. I didn’t really know. I’d expected to be told that my tubes were blocked and to be offered IVF. Then we would have been in a position to make an informed decision about what to do next. The hormone thing had totally caught me off guard. What if IVF wasn’t even an option? That hadn’t been something I’d even considered. I remember thinking “Well, this is going to f**k up my work productivity for the day”. To my surprise, it didn’t. I sat down to work and plunged straight in. As I switched tasks later, I wondered whether I was using work as a distraction technique, or whether I was simply going to be stoic again.

I had an early finish as I was going for my second lot of cupping therapy. The moment I switched my work brain off, it was back. I walked to my cupping therapy session googling the AMH test etc.

The anti-mullerian hormone (AMH) is produced by the ovary’s follicles. The level of AMH reflects how many follicles are growing, which indicates the number of eggs present.

After cupping, I went to the plant shop in search of distraction, and then to Tesco in search of treats to cheer me up. I could feel the emotion building up inside me, but I didn’t want to acknowledge it. When I got home, I went straight out into the garden. My happy place, where problems don’t exist. At least I was aware that I was distracting myself by that point. I knew that I was upset, and my thoughts kept trying to go down the “what if” route, but it seemed pointless when I’d got another wait for answers. What was the use of running scenarios in my head that hadn’t even arrived yet?

Over the next few weeks, I couldn’t help but think. My periods had been really messed up for months. They’d been a lot more heavy, painful, and they had lasted a lot longer. I started wondering whether the late period in September had been the start of something. I’d done three blood tests over fifteen months, and the FSH levels had been high for all three. It seemed a bit pointless doing any more. Surely that was enough to confirm my FSH levels are higher than they should be? I struggled with wanting to talk about it but not feeling able to, in fear of just bursting into tears. I’d started this journey in search of concrete answers, but it felt like I was just coming up with more and more questions.

I didn’t want to ask Google, but I wanted to understand. Of course, it wasn’t long before I was on there asking what can cause high FSH levels. That led to opening more and more pages, about primary ovarian insufficiency (POI), Fragile X syndrome, the link between autoimmune diseases and POI, and metabolic disorders. Then I stopped. I knew I wasn’t helping myself. I closed all of the tabs and ordered myself to wait. Just wait. I promised myself that whatever the outcome was, if I had more questions, I’d advocate for myself and push for answers. How, why, etc.

I decided to do both tests during the next period, just because I wanted it all to be over. Either way, I needed it to be over. I couldn’t keep doing this agonising waiting and pushing away thoughts! My April period fell lucky. I already had a blood test booked at the GP surgery which had been ordered weeks earlier when I had gastroenteritis. That fell on day 5, so I went to the hospital at the weekend again to have the first lot done on day 3.

I did the one which had the AMH test on at my GP, in the hope that that would mean I could see the result myself on the GP system. It didn’t.

The wait felt like forever, and my mental health just declined further and further. In the back of my mind was all of the torturous waiting I’d experienced in healthcare scenarios in the past; just adding weight to this situation. Avoidance and distraction can only get a girl so far. I received a follow-up appointment for June 7^th. I was continually trying not to think negatively; to remain hopeful, but I didn’t want to be so hopeful that it felt like another failure if the results were still off.

I had too many what-ifs and I didn’t want to work through them all, so I just kept forcing things back down. I knew it wasn’t healthy, but I was scared of crumbling. All of that avoidance ultimately took its toll when I experienced the mother of all panic attacks at the end of May.

A week later, I drew myself a chart of the possible outcomes. It was complicated. I tried to focus on all of the avenues that were possible if the follicle-stimulating hormone was still not right. I folded the paper and put it away, hopeful that now it was out of my head I could be free of the panic. I didn’t want to think any more about it because there wasn’t long to go. I just kept telling myself it was a week. That’s all. One week, and then I could move the f**k on…