Feeling Fried
Previous post: No Spring Chicken
Three injections down.
My friend is administering them for me. She has experience helping her sister through multiple rounds of IVF, so she’s a pro. The level of favor she’s doing me would merit me handing over my firstborn, if that wouldn’t defeat the entire purpose. (Girl can I getchu a coffee tho?)
It actually barely hurts. Way less than having blood drawn, which isn’t even really all that bad either (except for the nurse yesterday who left me with a massive bruise, but you can’t win ’em all). It’s a teensy needle and it’s over in like half a second.
Phobias aren’t rational.
The past couple of days have been a real rollercoaster, logistically (on top of emotionally). The way it works is, you wait until Day 1 of your period, then call them, then they have you come in the next morning for bloodwork, then if all comes back normal, you start injections that night.
The training videos they sent me told me in no uncertain terms that if Day 1 started after hours (which, on weekends, is noon) that I should wait until the next morning to call. Do not call the after-hours line. Very important.
So Monday morning I set my alarm for 7:30 (if you’re following along at home, this is not an hour I prefer to be awake) and called them in a half-asleep haze.
Me: “So like, I think yesterday was Day 1, but it’s really hard to tell because of my IUD, so should I come in?”
Her: “No one called you back?”
Me: “Uh. I was under the impression I should wait until the morning.”
Her: “No, we have an after-hours line.”
Me: [maybe you should watch your damn video?]
Her: “You’ll need to talk to [care coordinator], but she doesn’t get in until 9.”
Me: “Won’t that be too late to come in?”
Her: “I don’t know, I’m sorry, I just answer the phones.”
Me: [cool, I mean we’re working with generalized anxiety disorder over here and also I just dropped $15,000 on this, but that’s fine]
I spent the next several hours playing phone tag with them. I finally got a call back saying it was fine to come in the next morning, which is a good thing since it was already mid-afternoon.
Tuesday morning I got up AGAIN at 7:30, went in for bloodwork, nurse left me with that massive bruise, and I waited for the phone call. And waited. And waited.
I had signed up for one last yoga class at 6 p.m., to be followed by immediately heading to aforementioned friend’s house for injections, just around the corner from the yoga studio. (I’m very strategic when it comes to avoiding unnecessary schlepping.)
A nurse called me circa 5:30 to tell me that my lab results were delayed, so I should wait until the next day to start. At this point, remember, we’re already probably a day behind where we should be.
Me: “That won’t be too late?”
Nurse: “Probably not.”
So, I very skeptically texted my friend saying, “I guess we’re starting tomorrow night?” She was cool. Meanwhile I was supposed to leave for yoga like five minutes ago, because ain’t nobody wanna be cutting it close when the trip involves the G train.
The phone rings again as I’m about to head out the door.
Nurse: “I spoke with the doctor, and she said to go ahead and start tonight.”
Me: [huh, that could have been a great place to start]
Me: [texts friend again to say jk]
Me: [calls a Lyft to yoga]
Anyway, the process has officially begun. So far I don’t have any symptoms other than feeling exhausted, which probably has more to do with all the getting up at 7:30 than anything. Also the occasional psychosomatic twinge in my belly from all the needles. Happy Valentine’s Day to me!
I’ll leave you today with my new favorite thing in the world (vulgarity warning, for that small intersection of people who don’t care for vulgarity but are still reading all my posts):
