Yesterday we had lunch with Hubby’s dad, uncle, brother, sister-in-law, and nephews–two sweet, silly boys who tried to impress me by counting in English, with words for “butt” and “pee-pee” in their own language thrown in for laughs.  Unfortunately, other than the word for “horse,” those were the only words they said all day that I was able to understand.  The language barrier is a huge hurdle for me here, one that I keep telling myself I’ll surmount when and if we ever live here full time.  That’s looking more and more like a possibility, since Hubby’s recent interview here and still hearing nothing from his other prospects.  Hubby keeps telling me, as his brother did yesterday, that lots of people here speak English, and I shouldn’t have any trouble getting by until I learn the language.  The problem is that my nephews don’t.  My father-in-law doesn’t very well, or is too embarrassed to exchange more than a couple of polite words with me at one time.  I feel the same way.  The few words and phrases I do know, I don’t like to use because I’m afraid I’ll say something wrong, or in the wrong context.

I know it’ll be different if we make a home here.  I’ll take language courses and make more of an effort to immerse myself.  A trip every year or two for a couple of weeks isn’t worth all the effort of learning a new language, and I wouldn’t get the practice I need to keep it up.  I’ve tried before and fizzled out.

On another note, I was worried our attempts to get cheap meds here would also fizzle out.  We were able to get an appointment to see the same doctor Hubby’s brother and sister-in-law went to, even though we were first told it wouldn’t be possible to see him for prescriptions only.  The appointment was at 10:30–pm.  Yes, you read that right.  Thanks to the public/private health insurance systems at work in this country.  When we arrived–more than 30 minutes early–we were told they were running about 45 minutes late.  Hubby and I filled out paperwork, read magazines, and nearly an hour and a half after our original appointment time–pushing midnight–we met the doctor.  He asked us about our history and our plans for the next cycle.  He asked where we were planning to have treatment and what medications had been prescribed.  With no hesitation, he wrote us out what we needed, told us he agreed with Dr. C that the first round was probably just bad luck, and sent us on our way.

One hurdle conquered.  Next up: paying for these prescriptions and the rest of our IVF cycle.  Hubby is currently in “negotiations” with his brother to figure out where this money is going to come from and how much we’ll get.  I’m not involved in this discussion at all, but I told Hubby that if we couldn’t get the full amount from his dad and/or uncle, I would be fine with borrowing a small amount to cover the rest.  That’s assuming he has a job lined up for this fall.

So many details.  All of which have to be perfectly aligned for this cycle to work out.  But I’m trying to stay optimistic.  To look at these potential barriers as opportunities–or some crazy shit like that?


11 thoughts on “Barriers

  1. I’m so sorry about the language barrier — and all the other barriers you encounter. That has to be so frustrating. But it’s good news that you got the meds and there’s still plenty of hope that everything WILL align perfectly and you can be well on your way to another IVF. Fingers are crossed tightly for you, my friend!

  2. First off, I apologize for the long absence in commenting. Very glad you arrived to your destination safe and sound.

    I think looking at barriers as opportunities is a great idea! It changes your mindset allowing you to be open to options you might not have initially considered. Granted it’s not an easy thing (the language barrier being a very good example of that), but most things that are worth it are rarely easy. Glad to hear about the meds and will be hoping that the money and employment come through. In the meantime, wishing you a restful and relaxing trip.

  3. You’re getting there, lady. And in the meantime, the power and fun of pantomiming and pointing and thumbs-up to communicate cannot be underestimated. Until you pretend to swim like a fish to order tuna on a menu, you just have not lived.

    • Funny you should say that. We went to a “deaf experience” exhibit at a local museum yesterday, and Hubby said it was the most I’d communicated with someone without using English in this country in all the times I’ve been here–making faces, using gestures, and generally embarrassing myself! It was super fun.

  4. So glad you got there safe and can spend time with hubby and his family despite the language barrier. Must be frustrating not being able to communicate. Funny about the midnight appointment, that would never happen here in the UK! Good thing you got the prescription for the meds without any fuss, one thing less to think about. I hope you can enjoy the rest of your stay.

  5. Thinking of you and hoping everything works itself out. It still makes me so mad that treatment is covered for some and so expensive for others.

  6. Great news about the meds! Everything else will fall into place. I just know it! It may take a bit of effort, but nothing worth doing is easy, it seems. Thinking of you…

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