Confused

Madness, the last two days. Plain madness. The shortened version (which is not easy for me) is we have a cat. And, I think we still have a mouse. Post last Blog, my Gardener came and I explained my whole sad mouse story to him. In Israel you cannot buy poison in a hardware store, it is illegal. The only people who can buy it are people who have special permits, ie my Gardener. So, he said he could help and would get me some poison and bring it around later that day, that was Monday. He did, I smeared five plastic plates with peanut butter, and said Gardener sprinkled these little black sprinkles on top. According to him, the mice/mouse would die almost immediately, this was seriously strong sheeeeet, so along with the five plates, the 10 glue traps and two cage traps, and 5 super-sonic-noise thingies, me and mine set out to conquer Mighty Mouse.

I was on my own little mission that afternoon, Adam at Judo, Noam and I went searching for a picture of the Rabbi who was going to miraculously bring and end to my rodent issue. So we sped off to the only Judaica store that I know of in the nearby town Yehud (where Uri's parents live), I very confidently walked into the shop and had to interrupt a praying, bowing woman, lips working over-time on the 'Shma' or whatever she was reading. So I confidently tell her I have come for the picture of the Rav Shayale Krestia, and according to my friend one friend, also know as the "Rat Rabbi". There was a flicker of recognition in the woman's eyes, she said she had heard of this Rav, but did NOT have his picture and could NOT get it for me. Her only words of advice were to go to the Chabbad Store. So off we went, me still super-confident, I mean these are the religious people, they would believe in the power of a picture of a Rabbi, why not the "Rat Rabbi". The little Chabad man looked at me with such distaste, and said that they (Chabad) don't believe in 'that sort of thing', and then laughing, said I should try 'poison' or a 'cat'. Like they are the first people to suggest either one of those solutions. Well somehow it all just fell into place, it was time to get a cat! Thank you Chabbad. I left knowing they had done their job.

So by the following day I had 'slept on it', and my game plan was as follows: 1. go to pet shop 2. get cat paraphernalia, 3. catch 2 homeless kittens at children's school. Sounds easy right. Well the first two were, no.3 was Mission Impossible. I had seen these two kittens running around the school and thought that ofcourse they were homeless, destitute, and in need of me to make their little lives. This was not to be, I ran around after them ducking and diving into gutters and under pre-fab buildings, all to no avail, they were quite happy living, and to continue living, their homeless and destitute lives. I tried for around an hour to try and catch them, and in my sweaty state a father of another child approached me and said he could help me right then and there with a ready little cat family. He was feeding a whole lot of street cats at his house on the Moshav. Before I could check out his little brood, I needed to go past my friend Staceys' house as she had told me that she too had kittens and that they were living under and around her house, so I headed off to her, once there, there was no sign of them, I looked everywhere and they were absolutely no-where to be found. Me, being big on signs decided that they obviously were not the kittens for me, and I should go back to the Moshav and check out the other lot. Clearly the ones that I thought were in need of 'saving' did not want to be saved.

So with cat cage in hand, I went to catch a cat. I say 'cat' and not 'kitten' because they were not kittens, they were all a good few months old. I thought this through and decided this really was the best solution for a few reasons. Firstly, what was a kitten or kittens going to do faced with a deranged mouse? Secondly, a really teeny-weeny baby kitten would wreck my house. Thirdly, I needed a cat that was just a bit tame. Oh, and lastly, if I got kittens I would have to get two so they could keep each other company, I didn't have to worry about this if I got a cat which had already got its' attitude. So I chose my cat, there were a few ginger ones and one beautiful grey one with a stunning bushy tail, that is the one I chose. I guess technically it is still a kitten, it is a few months old, and 'it' because I have no idea if it is male or female. The first night I kept him (Adam has decided it is a 'boy') in the cat basket for a few hours, and then closed him in the children's bathroom when we all went off to sleep. He was fine other than diarrhea stink in the morning, it is amazing that with no show-and-tell needed they just instinctively know how to use cat-sand. Second night, being last night, he roamed the house letting his presence be known, when I went to sleep and turned off all the lights he was lying sprawled out Garfeild-style (should I be heeding the warning signs) on my brand new black leather couch.

In the short time he has been here he has not been outside, he has seen Rupert a few times through the window and let out a cat-shriek and sped off. This morning I think he and Rupert came to some sort of understanding. They were trying to stare each other down through the window, nose to nose, I am not sure who won in the end, but there was no shriek. He has no interest in going outside, I have left the door open a few times and made encouraging Pssssss sounds, he is not interested. Adam wants to call him Tom, and Noam for some odd reason wants to call him Yo-yo??? I don't want to call him anything yet, he needs to prove to me that he is going to live first, I am not having a cat with a name, and then a dead cat with a name. So I have set him a time limit, he doesn't know it yet, but Sunday is the day, if he is still alive on Sunday he will get a name and I will take him to the vet for all the necessary vaccinations and checks etc. The children are both so happy with him they play with him, poor thing gets tossed and tickled, kissed and caressed. He doesn't seem to mind. From an unwanted street cat to being fed, loved, cared for and the focus of two children's little lives. Quite a jump socially. Ok, point being, seems like the mouse/mice have moved on to greener pastures. Apparently mice can smell cats, so this little phenomenon is working in my favour. It is possible that the super-sonic-noise-making thingy is actually working, the manual did say it takes a few weeks to be effective. Either way, I have swapped a mouse for a cat, I'm thinking it is a trade-up!

Next, yesterday Adams class of 29 went on a school trip, they had asked mothers/fathers to volunteer to come along to help. I am SUCH a Red-Crosser waiting to happen. So I went, all of us on a bus, two other mothers came along. All the children sang and screamed with excitement most of the way, which was only about 20 minutes. The idea of the trip was a Mini-Olympics activity day together with all the other classes of the same age at the other schools in our region. All in all there must have been about 25 schools represented, it was great and fun and chaos. Endless head counts, what a responsibility, and you feel even more so when you notice the soldiers protecting you. I will definitely go again, it was fun, I danced and sang and screamed and urged my team on. Adams class should have about 3/4 trips this school year, I will be having a delayed Israeli upbringing. Due to my having grown up in a Christian home, there are many Jewish things that I 'missed' out on, eg. I never had the chance to find the Afikomen at Pesach, so now I need to make up for all those lost years, and I join in with the children every year. So same thing with the school trips. I had such a pounding head-ache when I got home, more cat diarrhea poop to clean up first then off to bed. When I got the children at 4.30 yesterday we came straight home, I asked Adam not to make any arrangements yesterday, I just wanted to be with only my children. We built puzzles and played cards, not much can beat the simple beauty of that.

Today was an early day, it is Thursday and I had to do the Progesterone and Estradiol blood tests today. IVF patients get priority over every-body else at the National Health Offices, I had to be there at 7.30 this morning and I walked straight through, no fighting, no arguing. One of the first awful experiences that I had here at Kupat Cholim (National Health) was waiting for a doctor to see me, there are no cute little polite secretaries calling out your name for your appointment, you just have to barge your way through the doctor's door. His door opens and it is eat-or-be-eaten, you push your way through, shouting and arguing, pushing and fighting. This has been a hard lesson for me here, the fact that life in general is sooooo hard here, that everything is a fight and an uphill battle here, that you have to ALSO fight at the doctors rooms just doesn't seem fair. So back to the first awful experience, I tried to push my way Israeli-style into the doctors rooms, I had a throat infection, probably a temperature, and some old lady shoved and then shouted at me. I was so taken back I just couldn't believe that anybody could be so rude. Even the old people are hard here, no little "Driving Miss Daisy" types here, no way! We are taught from an early age to respect your elders, and all I wanted to do to this specific elder was to slap her through the face, stupid cow. I unfortunately just didn't have the energy, I couldn't take it anymore, it was during my last IVF, dealing with all those hormones, moving into a new house, stress, blah blah blah, I sat down and cried. Everything came pouring out with those tears. Funny thing is, that in that packed waiting room, not one person offered me a tissue, a shoulder, an "are you ok?", nothing. I sat all alone sobbing and no-one cared. I have figured it out now, all part of the obvious growing pains of moving to a new country and getting your ducks in a row. It is simple, if you cry, you are weak. And you cannot show your weakness here, eat or be eaten, that's it. Crow vs Kitten.

So I just love going for my bloods, I have super-elite-IVF-blood and I take preference over every single grumpy old lady! It is the best, I am ushered through immediately, and my hot almost-still-pumping blood is rushed off by the courier to the laboratory. I am still waiting for the results. A great thing here in this country of contradictions, is that they don't have secretaries at a doctors office, but you can get your blood test results on line. How brilliant! So I log in with my code and get all I need, and with a history on all my tests ever done. So I need to check soon, and then this evening I have to go through to my Professor-mans rooms and have another ultrasound, to see that I am cyst free. The problem with the Gonal-f (Follicle Stimulating Hormone) is that along with enlarging and growing your follicles it can do the same to any cyst, so they have to rule out any presence and then only give the green light for the Gonal. I have a history of ovarian cysts; 1 laparoscopy, and 1 laparotomy. A laparoscopy is a really minor anaesthetised procedure, 3 minor incisions in your stomach, CO2 pumped into your stomach cavity to enable easier access and visuals. Procedure done and you can be on your horse, 3 days of discomfort and in some instances, chronic reflected pain from small pockets of CO2 left in your body under your rib cage and shoulder. Not the greatest, but bearable. And then the 1 Laparotomy - agony. Your stomach is cut open from side to side, in my case my caesar scar was opened, and more. One of the worst experiences of my life. Recovery taking weeks, pain and darkness. I have a wonderful Mother whose world literally comes to a stand-still if I need her. She is always there for me, she is more than a mother, she is my best friend. Thank you for everything Mommy.

Oi, tears wiped away, I totally got off the topic there, so tonight I have the ultrasound, vaginal, yet again. I used to be so picky, woman gynaecologist only. Now, I just don't care, it could be Frankensteins ugly cousin, if he is a gynaecologist, and he can help me have another child, he can look up my vagina all he wants. So tonight i will know what I have to inject tomorrow or not.

Ok major spanner in the works.

Just got a phone call from the Professor to say that they received directly my blood tests results from early this morning, problem is my progesterone levels are way too high. I don't like things not going according to 'plan'. So instead of started the Gonal-F tomorrow I have been advised to carry on with the Decapeptyl until Monday, and early Monday morning to go again for a Progesterone, Estrogen (Estradiol) AND Pregnancy test. I am totally confused, I haven't had a chance yet to 'google' all of this, so I haven't got this right in my head yet. I am just confused. Could I be pregnant? I really really doubt it, one thing I actually noted of late is that my boobs are totally deflated. And I don't FEEL pregnant. I don't really know what to think.