I spent most of the long holiday weekend looking forward to a half hour consult this morning. I’m not sure if I’m embarrassed by that or not, but its the truth. My lovely lady was out of town visiting her mom in Florida, and I didn’t have a whole lot to do other than finish my recovery from the Sinus Infection from Hell and get excited about how close to the next step we were getting.
On the other side of the appointment I am . . .exhausted. And ambivilent, generally. Although I am also so very grateful for my doctor, again.
I waltzed in (late. ugh) in excellent humor. Things are good! We have four embryos! The nuvari.ng comes out tomorrow! I will be pregnant so soon! Dr. Awesome was also in good spirits. She talked about our embryos and gave me the full report on them, talked about wanting to transfer only one, and asked about choosing the sex (we don’t want to choose, but we do want to know.) She said she’d look at the embryology report and then let me know which she would be thawing for transfer. Then she explained the FET process – birth control pills, lupr.on, estrogen patches and pills, HCG shots, progesterone in oil . . .and started doing the math in her own head, then looked worried, grabbed a piece of paper, and shook her head.
“The embryology lab is closed for two weeks in July for cleaning and maintenance. I think your transfer might fall during that time.” She clarified that I still had the nuvarin.g in, got out her calendar, counted, muttered, and then said. “yes. you’re going to have to wait.” WAIT? AGAIN? “How long?” The tears were, of course, flowing full force by now. “Another cycle. I’m sorry.” “So . . .what does that mean? August? September?” Suddenly the Grief of Lost Expectations, the hallmark grief of infertility and trying to conceive, a grief I have not had to deal with so much in this process, flooded me. All of a sudden The Plan was getting moved. Again. “August.” She said. “I think.”
I was confused. I didn’t understand. Late June, Nurse T had said, or maybe July. Maybe. But August? Somehow two whole weeks felt unliveable. Two weeks more felt inpossible, incapacitating. I asked her to explain, over and over. How many bleeds? And why? And why couldn’t birth control, supposedly the magic wand in RE world, fix this? Why did we have to wait an entire month?
Finally, she said that MAYBE . . .maybe the week after the lab opened again they could make it happen. Rather than taking out the nuvarin.g tomorrow and waiting to bleed, I would just switch one ring for another, wait a few weeks, then take it out, bleed, and start the FET calendar. That made sense. Ok. End of June was off the table, middle of July was a possibility. She cautioned me that, depending on what was already scheduled for that week, it might not happen. “Then it would be the next week, the 23rd maybe?” And even that, just 10 days from August, felt more possible.
She told me she would talk to the FET Nurses and one of them would call me today to tell me if they could do middle of July, and if so, how it would work with the nuva.ring process. It still felt . . .well, crappy. But who could I blame? The lab closes every year, its mandatory. And the doctor had excellent reasons for the process, even if I didn’t understand them.
So I drove the starbucks and ordered a giant americano with fancy syrup and drove around town crying for a while before going in to work. And while I was doing that, Dr. Awesome called.
“Hi Andie, how are you?” Of course I lied and said, “Oh, fine!” “I think I might be able to make it work for us to have you start the FET process this month . . .we might be able to get you in before the lab closes.”
She explained that, IF she could make this happen, it would mean manipulating my estrogen so that it was higher than usual. And that, she said, might make me feel kind of crappy – kind of crappy in a post-retrieval way. But, she might be able to make it work. Was I willing to feel crappy to save a few weeks?
Should I be embarrassed that I said, “yes. I think I’m fine with that”
Was she really testing my sanity?
So, she said, once again, she’d try and work things out, then have a nurse call me by the end of the day.
And so, right now . . .I am waiting. And maybe, I will keep on waiting. And maybe, I will wait less. The Hope of Expectations is back, but its dulled. Knowing that the very worst case in August, and the better case in mid-July, and the maybe-best case in still the end of June . . .well, maybe that was all I needed to at least not feel crushed.
And, as a cherry . . .when I apologized for, you know . . .losing it in her office, Dr.Awesome said, “I gave you bad news, on something that is already difficult, after pumping you full of hormones for months. If anyone should be apologizing, its me. And, in that circumstance, I could hardly expect you to do anything but sob.”
So, Dr. Awesome is, in fact, the appropriate pseudonym for her.
Update forthcoming, but if you could keep some things crossed and say some prayers to whomever/whatever you pray to, I sure would appreciate it. two weeks shouldn’t mean the world, but right now, it does.