I awoke this morning to discover an army of tiny invisible men thrusting very small, but very sharp, knives into the back of my throat.
My first thought:
God, this hurts.
My next thought:
What does this mean for my IVF cycle?
Oh, god, I can't miss work because ... say it with me IVF vets... I need to save all my sick days for egg retrievals and embryo transfers.
But, eventually the invisible army men won, and I called in sick. I suppose someone else will have to coax little Jimmy out from under his desk today.
I did, however, drag my sick pathetic self to my early morning RE appointment. (Some people say they can't start their day without a cup of coffee and the newspaper. Me? Well, I'm just not myself without my morning blood draw and internal ultrasound.)
This morning, as I was getting dressed, I seriously considered just not putting on my pants. You know, save myself a step. I'd carry them in my purse and put them on after the exam.
Hey, it's not that crazy. I have a long coat.
So, where was I? Oh, yes. So, there I am in the RE office (with pants), begging my doc for a prescription for antibiotics the way an addict would desperately try to get a freebie from their dealer. Just one hit, man, that's all I need...
He smiled condescendingly and said, "You'll have to see your primary care provider about that." Damn, I knew he was going to say that. But, the good news is that he didn't even mention the possibility of a cancelled cycle due to infection/ illness, etc. which was my big (and possibly irrational) fear. I proceeded to the lab where the woman who draws my blood (and does nothing but collect people's blood all day long and so I affectionately call her "Vampira"... no, not to her face...), decides today would be a good day to tell me about all the horror stories of blood collection while she is sticking the needle into me: "...And this one guy, well, the plastic needle broke and was stuck under his skin for the rest of his life... And, another person told me that once a nurse put the tourniquet on so tight that it dug into his skin and left a mark like an armband forever..."
Oh, and how could I forget, Ms. Financial Manager caught me just as I was leaving to say she didn't know we were doing ICSI, and well, it's gonna be an extra $3000.
By this time I just couldn't bring myself to go to the PCP, so I went home. I tried to take my temperature only to discover that the battery in my digital thermometer is dying (unless my temperature really is 87.2). This is most likely a result of the long-ago days of blissful ignorance when I thought charting my temperature and analyzing my cervical mucous would help me achieve pregnancy. This brought about my first (albeit sarcastic) smile of the day.
I spent most of the day on the couch watching mind-numbing daytime television. By the way, do you have any idea how many commercials that run from 10AM- 5PM feature babies? It's remarkable, really.
The nurse called around 2 to say that my E2 levels are at 525. So, I'll be dialling down the Follistim again. This time to 125. She said that this level is OK and that "certainly things are more under control than last time." I suppose that is comforting?
Then I watched Oprah, who was doing a show about women in their 30's. One of the segments featured a 31 year old teacher struggling with infertility. I held my breath as I watched this, just waiting for Oprah to piss me off. And she did, but only a little and only at the end of the interview when she tried to pull the "just make peace with it and then maybe it will happen for you" card. Thankfully, the woman was articulate and handled Oprah's questions beautifully. I guess I'll have to save up my anger for when Dr. Phil does his show about infertility.
So, now it is 5:12pm, and here is what I will be doing for the rest of the evening: eating dinner, shooting up, and watching Grey's Anatomy.
Good grief this was a long post. Is anyone actually still reading?