Well it has been quite a couple of days. A lot of harassing of nurses via phone calls and angry emails, but finally, we are back in the game.
I could indulge you in the juicy details of my recent anger and frustration with the world of heterocentric big box clinic drama, but since I’ve made a pre-new year’s resolution to be more zen-like in my projections into the world, I shalt not. Instead, I will share some good news.
My appointment with Dr. Glasses, the OCD-punctual endocrinologist, revealed completely normal bloodwork. She claims that the RE’s blood lab may be lacking reliability in their methods, and/or my levels just naturally fluctuate. Just to “dot her i’s and cross her t’s” (her words not mine), Dr. Glasses has ordered a head MRI and repeated my bloodwork (yay! Those 9 vials of blood were just weighing me down anyway!). But otherwise, she pretty much smacked me on the bum and said- “Go off and make some gaybies!”.
So a call was made to the RE’s clinic, who is to blame for this absolutely unnecessary 3 month delay in baby-making. This is where the angry stories come in. I won’t say any more than- minions! Brainless minions!
So today is day 3. Bleeding like a stuck pig, I had to wake up 30 minutes earlier than usual, guzzled 2 full bottles of water on an empty stomach, had my veins poked, permitted a sadistic ultrasound tech to use ice cold ultrasound gel on my belly (and uncomfortably full bladder), and had my cervix pistol-whipped by a dildo-wand. Fun times. Please excuse the ultra-long sentence. I am having a PTSD moment here people.
Anyway, looking forward, I have to start the Marvelon again. DW’s damn period got away from mine again, so we aren’t synced anymore. *Imagine my period running after hers, the gap between them widening….*
Sometime around the 24th of December (yes the eve of baby Jesus’ birthday) I start jabbing myself with Lupron.
Maybe if I stay up late enough, Santa himself will ice my injection site.