One Week Later

We're tired. So tired. And it's not just IVF, but that has something to do with it. The Lovenox is making me a giant walking bruise. I'm sick of needles and shots and really ready to get Partner in for the harvest. Today she showed us ten follicles-- 10!-- at the ultrasound Dr. BusyBusyBusy performed. We went in for the blood letting and he got there early-- so early in fact there were no patients scheduled for another hour. He told us he'd do the ultrasound then so we didn't have to come back later. I indicated my appreciation for this and his response was, "Oh, you guys are always so nice, it's a pleasure."

What's your first reaction when someone tells you something like this? Is it, "Ah, being nice pays off in the end!" or "Oh, he noticed?" or "How pleasant it is that my doctor respects my time too"? Not if you are me. If you are me your first response to this is "Oh. Shit." Nice? We're nice? We scheduled the whole appointment to complain about the 12 year old nurse, and now our nice quotient was going to plummet. We'd be getting no more favors from the old doc after he heard my bitch fest, but luckily for us, it didn't even get that far. Partner made the mere mention that the 12 year old had some problems last week, and Dr. BusyBusyBusy made a concerned face and jumped in noting that Partner's innards were somewhat difficult and we should just come for our ultrasounds in the afternoon so he could see us directly. Great, and we all smiled, and he can continue thinking we're nice. It's true we'll have to pay more for the experienced wanding skills he brings to the table, but I'm ready to do that. I have a lot of trust and confidence in the good doctor, and if I have to pay more to stress less, I'll do it.

Because I stress quite easily. Have you noticed?

So far we're on track, but will know more Thursday. Procedure week is next week. How did that happen again?

Other than that, we're exhausted because our stupid cat Maya escaped last night. We both awoke with a start when we heard Eli (my boy) mewing like he was in some pain. And we both jumped up out of bed-- once out of the room, we could see him sitting at the sidelight of the front door. Usually this means there is an unknown cat on the other side of the glass, and Eli wants to let this interloper know to get-the-fuck-off-his-porch. But last night's meow was different. I tore down the steps and the cat on the porch took off. "That's not the usual cat," I said to Partner. And she said, "Where's Maya?" Our sleuthing revealed that there were only two cats in the house, and that the screen in the dining room was pushed out. Maya had gone on walkabout. Maya is, to say the least, a little wild. Thus we waited, with the front door wide open and the back screen door open as well. She'd come back, on her own time. This is an odd experience to sit with the door wide open at 3:00 am when usually we are paranoid about closed doors because of cats that might like to dart outdoors. Last summer Maya did the same thing, but it was the daytime. She came back home, strolling through the front door after it got dark. Partner's postulation was that Maya would come back sooner now since it was already dark! She came home again, alright, but-- at 4:30, the little minx, and we went back to bed. Tired we are today.

And now we're trying to clean the office, which is so not a fun task. Because we're selling our house. But that's another post.