Sunday 8pm was the whopper shot. By that time I'd already given myself over 20 shots, so I figured a nurse pro doing the injection would be a breeze. I was wrong. Nurse neighbor (calling him G from now on) and his Partner arrived right on time (we invited them to stay afterward for dinner). G, H, and I immediately went upstairs to my drug lair to do the deed. H and I watched G mix the meds and ready the needle. Yep, he looked like a pro. At first I thought I'd stand and take the shot like a man. But, my nerves got the better of me. G suggested I lay on the floor, to make it easier on those nerves. Within seconds I found myself laying in the exact same spot where I'd once petted the carpet (see "Well that was unexpected" blog post). Dan walked to where my head was and G was near my feet. I told G to go ahead. Until... I quickly changed my mind. I had questions. Wait! How much will it hurt? (not much at all he said) Wait! How long will it take? 20 seconds? (no he said) Oh my gosh! Longer? 30 seconds? (no, maybe five he said) Ok, now I'm ready. Wait! No I wasn't. I had some things to say to Dan. As he tells it, I'd eventually gotten myself into half of a fetal position. One leg out, one leg curling up toward my chest. Dan was still standing. I demanded he kneel on the floor with me. "You can do this," H said. I took his support and unfortunately shoved it back in his face by snapping, "Just kneel! And take that stupid hat off your head." Ugh. So mean. He wasn't even wearing a stupid hat. I bought him the hat he was wearing. Thankfully, he took no offense, and held his laughter until later, when he admitted it was all pretty funny. I made a little bit of a scene. G was right, the shot hurt didn't hurt at all (in fact, I didn't know he'd done it). And it must of taken less than 5 seconds (again, I didn't even know he'd done it). Yay. Hard part over. For dinner, I allowed myself to pig out on pizza and a cupcake. The rest of the supper gang had wine. Lucky ducks (I've missed partaking in adult bevvies).
Yesterday was kind of a waste. I felt nauseous and light headed and tried to lay low. To boot, my mind was preoccupied with worrying about the surgery and with wondering about how many eggs would be retrieved (none? please at least on one! super pretty please 8? I won't dare dream of 10). My acupuncturist had previously encouraged me to try not to put stress on top of stress. She recommended meditation. I was so desperate I tried it (found something from the app store with good user ratings; reliable source, I'm sure). If the measure of a successful meditation session is falling asleep, then I'm a pro. Om conked me out within 10 minutes each time I tried. Sleep was needed anyway, H and I had to get up at 430am to be at SGF by 6am. Surgery was scheduled for this morning at 8 (by design, 36 hours to the dot after the whopper).
More on the retrieval procedure and egg (eggs plural ?) count later ... after I've had some more meditation sleep.
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