My husband loves Halloween. When we went to the mall last night to buy me some pants because I am so freaking bloated I can’t get into my regular pants and dear lord I hope this isn’t permanent but how can it be because I couldn’t possibly have gained this much weight in a week, we saw a big tent in the parking lot — a popup Halloween store.
Inexorably, inevitably, almost without volition, the car turned towards the Halloween tent. What we learned:
If I were to wear a Halloween costume this year, I could be a sexy cop, a sexy sailor, a sexy nurse, a sexy commando, a sexy crayon, a sexy witch, a sexy fairy, or a sexy stripper.
Zombies are in; Frankenstein is out.
And this is a real thing in the world, which we couldn’t help but purchase:
Once we got into the mall I bought some yoga-type pants which I may be able to get away with at work if I wear a sufficiently nice top and don’t draw too much attention to myself.
Then this morning I had a clinic appointment. I don’t know what my problem was — even on the drive up I was feeling freaked out. I think I have been holding it together pretty well thus far, but today I just lost it. I keep telling myself I can’t possibly be the first person ever to cry at that clinic, but I can’t figure out what made today any different from the last six million appointments.
After 7 days of stims I had:
- 15 follicles on the right
- 6 on the left (I told you she stepped it up!)
- Largest follicle was 15.2, smallest was 5
- Lining was 8mm
- Gonal-F is decreased again as of tonight, to 75. Current regimen: Ganirelix AM, 75 Gonal-F and 75 Menopur PM.
- Retrieval sometime this weekend or next Monday.
But the trouble started before I even got to the scan — they just couldn’t find a vein for the blood draw. They had to stick me several times and ended up getting the blood from the back of my hand. By the time that was done I was in tears (and again, I’m not usually a needle-phobe). I held it together pretty well for the Wanding, but in the consult I was pretty teary, and I couldn’t even maintain to set my next appointment at the front desk.
Luckily I had already called in sick to work (and I’m sure my team members were grateful, as I’ve been hacking up a lung all week) so I didn’t have to go in to the office afterward. I called my husband from the car, sobbing, and of course he was with a student and couldn’t talk, and by the time he called me back he had worked himself up pretty good because he thought there might be something, you know, actually wrong and not just me being unable to deal.
I am officially a fucking mess.
I’m actually kind of proud of myself that it has taken this long for me to lose it.