Well that wasn't how I'd pictured going!! I swear my doctor was in the room for less than 2 minutes total, and for a minute and a half of it, he was talking into my vagina while I lay back with my feet up in the stirrups. (Not exactly the ideal position for good conversation.) Geez!! I'd forgotten just how brief and impersonal each of these visits really are! Here's a photo so you can imagine it better while I go on to explain the fastest two minutes in history....
I got there and was promptly called back to exam room. (They are always good about that which I appreciate.) I got undressed, from the waist down, and I pulled out the sheet of paper I had written all my questions on so I could have it handy. That was when I realized I had grabbed my damn grocery list instead. Great! "This appointment is already off to a good start," I thought to myself. Oh well, I could remember most of the questions so I figured it wasn't that big of a deal. When the doctor came in he seemed please to see me and I was graciously welcomed back for a second round of IVF....like I was a returning patron to a fancy restaurant or something?!? Then, on the contrary to a fancy restaurant, I was asked to "lay back, put my feet up in the stirrups, scooch to the very edge of the exam table, and let my knees fall to the sides." It's almost like you to have to turn off your frontal lobe (the part of our brains that distinguish us as intelligent, dignified beings) so that you cannot feel the normal human emotions that make this situation incredibly awkward. And this is precisely why I always seem to be unable to vocalize my questions.
I had to barrow this comic photo from a fellow blogger who knows what this experience is all about. This is TOTALLY what it can feel like in that room with those bright-ass florescent lights.
Anyway, back to what I was saying...I did manage to get a few of my questions out in the brief two minutes. Most importantly, my doctor was able to genuinely express that he is "really hoping that this round, with the different drugs, will be a success for us," since he knows how disappointed we were last March. Hearing that made me feel like there was a human connection, if only for a split second, in this sterile medical environment.
That nano-second of human connection vanished when I was told that I would have to "put stimming on hold for a few days since there are too many other patients cycling right now." Excuse me??? Put on hold?? Like a phone call? ...Yes.
Apparently there are a lot of infertile women in Cincinnati who are on the same cycle as me! So, like a robot, my body will be put on hold (continuing Lupron for a couple more days) so that my doctor can stagger his patient load. Weird right? I didn't even know that was possible!! But I have to remind myself that I am with the tri-state's biggest infertility clinic whose doctors are in high demand for their skill. Knowing that they are "so good" that they have that many patients who come from far and wide is a plus. But, on the other hand, it feels like shit to be essentially wait listed mid-cycle. If I've ever felt like I'm just an irrelevant number, now is the time!
I start stimming this Friday, so it will be here soon enough...in the mean time I will be listening to the proverbial "elevator hold music" while I wait for the next customer service representative.
Oh IVF...you are a strange, strange thing!!
SIlence is bliss?
1 month ago