See You Next... Monday

Estrogen pills began Sunday after blood work and ultrasound. (The blood work that morning was PAINFUL. It took awhile to find a vein they could get into, and it kept ducking out of the way when they did. A huge, ugly bruise formed there later that day.) Taking those twice a day, and they really haven't made any difference in my emotions, thankfully. No depression like with the injections. Hallelujah.

Had to go to the clinic early in the morning yesterday for more blood work and ultrasound. Due to the existing arm bruise, we used my right arm for taking blood. While the phlebotomist got the vein easily (a small miracle), it still bruised, I guess just based on the placement. At least I'm symmetrical now.

I had to wait ten minutes or so before I was shown to my ultrasound room. I'm used the process there; undress from the waist down, sit on the bed, cover up with the thin paper blanket they leave folded up for you. I bring a book and sit there in as much dignity as I can muster reading until someone comes in to see me. It's funny - in the office I go to on weekends and holidays, the bed actually faces the door, and the doctors do a quick knock before they walk in without waiting for a response from you. So if you're not covered up yet, your whole downstairs would be on display for the world to see. I hadn't been to my own clinic in awhile as so much of my process happened around Thanksgiving, so I forgot that their beds face away from the door, which I think is a better set up. But the rooms are a lot smaller, and the beds are fully reclined rather than in a somewhat seated position, which makes waiting a little more uncomfortable.

Either way, the beds are the typical lady parts examining kind with cold metal stirrups to rest your heels in. The better to spread your legs with, my dear. While I'm waiting, I usually rest my toes there. I'm not going to put my whole heel in there if I don't need to, especially as that leaves your bum hanging off the end of the table. Just not comfortable.

Yesterday morning, I was sitting there, reading a book called 10% Happier and trying my darnedest to be comfortable, and in came yet another doctor I'd never met before. I've only had female doctors at the clinic, and until yesterday, they've always come in quietly, said a sing song, "Hi," introduced themselves, and explained what we were going to do.

This woman was entirely different. She threw the door open, marched into the room, and said to the other woman with her (there's always someone to type info into the computer), "We're going to need to check her for a catheter."

I'm sorry, WHAT? A what now? I thought I was having an ultrasound! What's all this about shoving a tube all up in my business first thing in the morning?

This woman positioned herself by the stirrups and gruffly said, "Slide down. Put your heels in the stirrups, not your toes."

Like I didn't know what I was doing. Like I haven't been getting one of these done several times a week for the past few months.

"What is it that I'm having done?" I asked quietly, hoping that maybe my volume would hide the slight panic I was beginning to feel.

"We're checking for the placement of your transfer," she told me.

OH! So not having a tube shoved up me for any length of time then.

I'm not sure exactly what happened, but I did have something inserted. It was completely different from what they do for an ultrasound, smaller but somehow more painful. "Ow," I breathed as this woman poked around doing her thing.

My doctor (as much as you even have a doctor in charge of your case in this place) if I say ow: "I know, I'm so sorry, you're doing great, this will be over soon." What this woman said: "Well, that's what the transfer is going to feel like."

Great. Thanks. Thank you for your compassion and encouraging words.

She took whatever it was out of me and said, "You'll have to go in on Monday to the weekend/holiday clinic. Now I have to do the ultrasound." The probe used for that gets covered in latex and lubed up. While she was doing that, I felt some cramping, which I mentioned. She didn't say anything, didn't show any concern at all. It was like I wasn't there.

My uterus and ovaries, I've learned through this process, are at a jaunty angle, so it usually takes the doctors a few minutes to find them. While they look, they slowly move the ultrasound probe around, and when they get near the skin, it can be a little painful, but they're as gentle as they can be.

Oh no. Not this esteemed doctor. She moved the probe around at top speed like she was vacuuming in there. It didn't take too long to find my uterus, but my ovaries were being resistant. She started pressing hard on the left side as well, I guess in an attempt to find things. Didn't matter that I was uttering, "Ow." She kept vacuuming away until she finally called out, "Right ovary's quiet," gave the dimensions of it to the woman at the computer, and also announced, "Can't find the left." Then she took the probe out and left.

Funny, I've probably been seen by 10 doctors at this point, and all of them have been able to find both ovaries without much of a problem. That should tell you how fast this woman was moving.

I was left laying there on the verge of tears. The entire process had been so demoralizing and humiliating, and I had come in in a good mood. The computer woman (I know it's weird to call her that, but I don't know if she's a nurse or not) was silent.

"My doctor's not in today?" I asked her.

"No, she's here on Mondays and Tuesdays." Her voice was quiet, and I may have imagined it, but I thought I could hear a note of apology there. Possible I imagined it.

She left, and I took a few minutes to compose myself. I absolutely couldn't believe how I had been treated. This entire process is unpleasant enough without being treated as though I'm not in the room, not a part of my own body. Without having someone unapologetically inflict pain and walk out of the room as if nothing happened. I laid there, shed a few tears, took a few deep breaths, and put my (literal) big girl pants back on. Okay. One terrible experience out of many. Not too bad, right?

I considered asking to not see that doctor again, but I wasn't sure if I should. The chance of having to see her again seemed slim to none considering I've seen someone different almost every time. But I had been listening to some Oprah podcasts that morning, and I thought, I'm worth it. I am worth being assertive and voicing my needs.

I walked up to the receptionist, grateful there wasn't anyone else in the waiting room at that point and leaned in. "I don't mean to be rude," I started, "but is there any way I can never see that doctor again?"

The receptionist gave me a sort of wistful glance. "She's the doctor who does our scans on Wednesdays and Thursdays."

I sighed. "Well, I don't exactly have a choice of the days I come in." I promise, I still said this nicely, without the attitude that merely reading the words might seem to exude.

"The schedule is on our website. You can always check and go to another facility at any time. Is there another one that's closer to your house?"

Bitch, do you think I would drive to a clinic further from my house at 7am??!! "No, this is the closest, and as it is I'm going to be late to work." Blech. "Okay, thanks."

Luckily, for the next week, all of my appointments will have to be at the holiday/weekend clinic. Not sure if I'll need to worry about seeing this crazy woman again with my allotted time. But if I do, I guess I'm going to be going for a drive.

At least my administrators know what's going on and don't mind if I'm a few minutes late to work.

As a result of that appointment, I'm up to three estrogen pills a day. (I think I'm getting a might bit emotional as a result, but not in a bad way.) I got a new calendar with Monday's appointment on it, but other than that, everything's the same as outlined before.

So close. I can't believe that when I got the transfer date two weeks ago, I wondered how I would get through the next two weeks of work, and today it's over. Yes, I have another week before the actual embryo transfer, but at least I can be home, celebrating, resting, shopping for sales, and having the inspection done on our new home.

Oh, we're so close.