I feel as if I have lost track of time. I was pacing myself for this IVF cycle, slowly trying to adapt to the idea that the retrieval would be a week from today. Just as I was coming around to the idea, WHYBAML goes and throws me a curveball. After a scoot around the ovaries today, he has decided that the retrieval will be ::gulp:: on TUESDAY. Tuesday people. Today is Friday. Saturday. Sunday. Monday. TUESDAY. Right around the friggin' corner. Colour me petrified. I have no time! No time!
Apparently my ovaries are responding fabulously and WHYBAML is afraid that if he leaves it too much longer hyperstimulation might be an issue. During today's scan we learned there are a couple of follicles at about 17-18mm, with an assortment hovering around 14-15mm. WHYBAML said that based on what has popped up so far, he speculates that would yield 15-20 eggs. My question is--can that be predicted at this point? I feel like a complete idiot for questioning him as I am a complete IF ignoramus, but I'm intimidated by his quote because as a negative person I'd prefer that he underestimate rather than overestimate. Anyway, I'm going to put that out of my mind for now.
I am to do one last shot of Puregon (damn) at 100iu tonight, carrying on with the Cetrorelix until Sunday. He is going to phone me tomorrow to tell me when I need to hike my prodded and poked ass up to London on Tuesday for the retrieval. Yikes.
I am concerned about the size of the follicles and whether perhaps I could have been stimulated more. I understand the concern of hyperstimulation, but whilst perusing Google most protocols I have come across involve a vastly higher dosage of stims. I know everyone responds differently, and I am trying desperately to maintain my faith in the glory that is WHYBAML.
Before you venture on, two little WHYBAML stories for you. It was absolutely freezing this evening when I headed to the wanding. When I went to shake hands with WHYBAML, he said, "My, your hands are cold", and proceeded to put his non-shaking hand on top of my right hand in a comforting, albeit informal sort of way. Let it be said that he probably felt provoked to do this because I have the hands of a child and for a brief moment he may have thought that I was in fact 12, not 27. I'm not joking. My 8 year old nephew's hand are only a fingernail smaller than mine.
As this appointment was right after work, I was still a bit frazzled and yet to wind down. When I was left alone to take off my trousers and wrap the cootersafe sheet around me, it took me a bit longer than usual. Once I was sitting up in the chair, feet in stirrups, I realised the sheet was tucked under me and would thus cause complications when the ultrasound was to begin. WHYBAML was back in the room and equipping the wand for the poking by this time. In my attempt to get the sheet the way it was supposed to be, I perhaps was a bit...exposed. Nothing major really; it's not as if my snatch was giving WHYBAML a how do you do, the sheet just inched up my thighs a tiny bit. WHYBAML calmly reached over, patted the sheet down and said, "Let's cover you up a bit more." Shit WHYBAML why do you always make me feel like such a whore?
Keen readers may recall my post from a few months back when this happened previously. It seems I am quite eager to show off my beaver. Coincidentally I was laughing about the first time this occurred right before the appointment, so I smirked at The Dude when WHYBAML was forced to cover me up because I am a complete slut. My first instinct isn't even to cover up right away anymore, which is quite scary. The way I see it, I must have had over 100 scans in the past year and a half, and the Pru cooter is well-worn territory for these people. Why start to be modest now?
So, all systems are a go for Tuesday. Shit. This is real now, isn't it?
Edited to say: WHYBAML phoned me this morning to say that my appointment is for 10.30am on Tuesday. I shoot up Ovitrelle at precisely midnight tomorrow (well, I guess technically it's Monday morning), and then I'm good to go. In theory. He still insists on calling me Ms Pru, which confuses me as he has intimate contact with my cooter numerous times a week. Surely we can be on a first-name basis.