CD3 (Cycle day 3) today and had an ultrasound and bloodwork. The ultrasound confirmed that the small cyst I’d developed last month had been reabsorbed, so yay to that….it hadn’t really been a concern, but you know…..who wants a cyst? I sat down with my coordinator, The Russian’s Right Hand, and she went through my whole drug protocol: what to take, how much, when to take it, how to take it. She’s really great – very supportive, always positive, and is getting used to the fact that sometimes I just blather, especially if I’m the least bit fidgety, and often end up saying really random things.
Before I could start IVF, I had to get a mammogram – turns out ya gotta make sure everything’s good up top before you get things going downtown. So there I am, puttin’ ’em on the glass when I try to make some small talk with the nurse person, who is very resistant to chatter. This really only pushes me further to fill the awkward space. Now, if you’ve ever had a mammogram you know the machine is HUGE and that you have to put your body in Cirque du Soleil positions while your boob tissue is mashed between a few glass panels. There’s alot of silence, repositioning and waiting. I think it was after 2-3 pictures that I posed a simple question:
Me: “You work with this machine all the time?”
Me: “Do you have a nickname for it?’
Her: ….No answer.
Me: “You know, like a little pet name?”
Her: …..awkward uncomfortable shrug.
Me: “You don’t ever….”
Me: “So just hold right here?”
Her: “Yes please.”
Since we’re here, another example:
The first day I met The Russian she gave me an ultrasound since we knew I was likely about to ovulate. I’ve just met her, she’s already got me on the table and is all up in my business and of course I get the urge for antsy small talk. So, I asked her if she’d ever consider putting random pictures on the ceiling so that whilst a lady was getting ultrasounded she’d have something to look at….something like the classic kitty cat “Hang in There,” a Where’s Waldo, the August page from a Fireman-of-the-Month calendar, whatever…anything to look at as a distraction to the awkwardness of a trans-vaginal ultrasound. (Am I right, ladies?) Random random blather.
Back to the present.
I’ll start my stims tonight – I’ll do approximately 10 days of Follistim, Menopur and Lupron, a total of 3 shots a night. All three are with pretty small needles so fairly low on the discomfort scale, mid-range on the psych-yourself-up-to-shove-3-needles-into-your-belly scale. I’ll go back next Wednesday at which point they’ll do some bloodwork and I’ll get another untrasound – where yes, I’ll still be looking at a blank ceiling. They’ll get a gauge on how I’m responding to everything and adjust my dosages if need be.
A quick note on my dosages, which for the moment I won’t divulge. Why? Because a 30-second look around the internet told me that most people either a) freaked out at people saying they were on this level or b) were on the other side of treatment ragging about it.
Because it’s alot.
I’m taking alot.
It feels just higher than “throw the kitchen sink at it” and slightly less than “holy shit.” I started to let the chatboards psych me out, so I closed my browser, got a tad worked up and then decided I likely will need to resist researching this particular subject until I’m done with treatment. For now I gotta let the doctor be the doctor. I’ll put the numbers in writing soon enough but I’m letting them sink in right now, putting my trust in The Russian and continuing to chill out.
Luckily I have very little to do over the weekend aside from walking the dog, catching up on Mad Men and finding random YouTube clips which I’ll pass along to you in my next post.