“This is an unmedicated cycle?”, Dr. Mean asked with only thinly veiled surprise. Dr. Mean, a small woman with a monotone voice, was filling in for Dr. Left, who fills in for Dr. Text, who was hired to cover another doctor’s mat leave. If you’re keeping track, that means I saw the replacement of the replacement of the replacement doctor at today’s visit.
I had bid a sleepy goodbye to Sea this morning before heading off to Clinic One for cycle monitoring. I wasn’t thrilled to pull myself out of bed in total darkness, fumbling for underwear in the pile of laundry I haven’t had a chance to fold, but Dr. Left had told me to come in– so that’s what I was going to do.
The blood draw and ultrasound were uneventful. Today’s ultrasound was peformed to Katy Perry’s “Wide Awake”, and when my name was called for the blood draw two people stood up (I have one of those names that about a billion other people share. Think of me as a Sarah or a Jennifer, or something.) I sat waiting for a short eternity to see Dr. Mean. I had been told when I signed in that I would be seeing this replacement of the replacement of the replacement doctor, and I was nervous. This was the doctor that the acquaintance I had run into in that awkward moment in September had been seeing. At the time, my acquaintance had complained that Dr. Mean was, well, mean. I had heard both from my acquaintance and from the whispers of the other women waiting at my HSG appointment that Dr. Mean lacked tact, bedside manner and, possibly, a heart. I had only paid passing attention to these complaints, smug in the knowledge that she wasn’t my doctor. But today she was.
Finally I was ushered by a nurse into another office, with a brief interlude for Awkward Moment #2: you know that moment when you run into somebody at a party or on the street and they recognize you? And then they’re smiling and waving and you freeze? Because you know you’ve met them, but you just can’t quite remember where you know them from or what their name is… Now imagine how much more awkward that is when you’re crossing paths in the hallway of a fertility clinic. Her name was called loudly a few minutes later, and as soon as I heard it I remembered– we’ve worked on several projects together– but still. Anyhow, soon after I found myself sitting alone in an office facing an Anne Geddes photo of three babies in flowerpots.
Inexplicably there was also a child-sized tiara on the bookshelf, leading to a totally inappropriate text conversation between me and Sea regarding the possibility of producing a gay Honey Boo Boo and making millions from our sure-hit reality show.
Our planning for future infamy was cut short by the arrival of Dr. Mean, her curt manner and unsmiling face ironically highlighted by the smiling babies in flowerpots on the wall above her head. “This is an unmedicated cycle?”, she asked, with only thinly veiled surprise. Apparently the 16mm follicle I was so proud of yesterday hasn’t grown identifiably in the past 24 hours, but has been joined by a 15mm follicle. I’m trying to convince myself that this might increase our chances of success, hopefully without doubling the outcome.
Though she seemed impressed (maybe?) with the two follicles, she was totally unimpressed by my presence in her office with these two insignificantly sized follicles. “I don’t know why they even told you to come in today.” she said, practically shuttling me out of the door, “Come back on Monday”. With a quickly written script for increased thyroid meds, I was out the door.
Back on the street I called Sea, simultaneously and contradictorily afraid that yesterday’s follicle was all talk and won’t grow anymore, and also that the appearance of follicle two means that we’re going to have gay Honey Boo Boo twins.
Total Ultrasound Count: 7
(I’m also scared that by not going in tomorrow I’m going to somehow miss ovulation. Any words of wisdom on follicles not growing, on two follicles growing, or whether I should just show up for bonus cycle monitoring tomorrow would be appreciated!)