(those black blobs are follicles. during ultrasound someone measures each one horizontally and vertically)
Last Wednesday, H and I had been waiting longer than usual and figured that SGF was even busier than normal. When the door finally opened, my RE burst through apologizing for the wait and expressing how much she wanted to do the ultrasound that day. I barely know her, but would say we've been through a lot together. It is she who initially relayed our chances of conceiving naturally (just about zero) and walked us through all the tests, which all confirmed her initial diagnoses. While I know that she has hundreds, maybe thousands, of patients and the chances of her remembering me are slim, her presence meant everything to me that morning. The importance I placed on her could also be due to the two days prior when the nurses on staff shook my confidence in the abilities of SGF with a couple of inaccurate statements and instructions. Needless to say, the arrival of my doctor put me at ease enormously. She took my measurements and talked to me a bit about what would happen in the next few days. Although, I'm sure it was very routine, I felt star struck. I kept thanking her. Profusely. More than once I told her how great it was to see her. It was as if my favorite celebrity had walked into the room and I lost the ability to create a rational question because I was so excited to see her. (As an aside, as I'm typing this, I have no idea who my favorite celebrity really is, but the name Julia Roberts came to mind.) H and I left the office feeling like we were back in good hands.
On Thursday, still to my surprise, another doctor entered the exam room. I had met this particular RE before. She's the one that did my mock embryo transfer. Naturally, she isn't my favorite physician. (Did I mention the last time I saw her she said if they had trouble keeping my cervix open during transfer day, they'd just use a stitch? Meaning a needle and thread... down there!! No thanks. No thanks at all! I hope, but doubt, she's been practicing.) She scares me more than a little bit. I tried to put that memory aside and to relax. Turns out she's much better at ultrasounds. Thank goodness. H and I were in and out of there in no time and (bonus!) I didn't faint later that day.
By the time Friday rolled around I started expecting to see a doctor. That day, however, there was still a semi-surprise for me. A MAN walked into exam room #1. I have no idea why, but it made me blurt out, "Wow! I've never had a MAN do this before." H laughed. But, the doctor didn't. He just said, "Well, I assure you I HAVE done this before." "Ok," I said, "I do think you look like someone who knows what you're doing." Finally, he laughed and replied, "Appreciate that. I think it's the gray hair ... and I'm glad you brought your sense of humor today." Thanks doc! I am too. It's not here everyday.
Yesterday we went to the Rockville office (we have to do that for every weekend/holiday appointment). Rockville is 9 times the size of the DC office, so I really didn't expect to see a doctor that day. But, I did. Another dude. He didn't have gray hair though. He let the tech do the measurements and sort of just stood there watching. Feeling as though he needed to engage more, I asked him the only question I could think of that I hadn't already asked someone. "Hey [doc], why are they called follicles?" Before he could answer, I followed up with a less intelligent sounding question, "Do they have hair?" I caught him off guard. He didn't even know why they're called follicles. He explained something about follicles holding fluid in which the egg will eventually appear. "Ohh," I said, "So, they're like little hot tubs." He didn't laugh. But, I thought it was funny.
Today, we're 99.9% sure, was my last ultrasound of the cycle. My follicles have almost grown to the right measurements. Unfortunately, to get the small ones caught up, they sacrificed one or two of the front runners which will be too big now to harbor an egg. Losing them did make me a little sad. I asked the nurse what to realistically expect. She explained that of all the follicles present, not all will have an egg, and not all will fertilize. I knew that. Then she added that they always tell people to expect half to make it to embryo stage. In my case, that'll be three or four embryos. That'd be great. But, I'm cautious of being that optimistic. Plus, there is absolutely no way to guess how many of those embryos will score the rating required to make it worthwhile to transfer them back to me. Older eggs (as my AMH level suggests I have) statistically don't grade well. Despite the odds, I'm still giving each and every follicle the benefit of the doubt. My hope carries on.
Laughed out loud a couple of times...love the jokes!
ReplyDelete