Today was one of those days. Where it seems like everything is going against you. Blue. Blah.
It started at the crack of dawn with this morning's blood draw. Deciding to try a new lab, I was pleased when, upon arrival, a very CA-ute nurse-man greeted me. With longish curly dark hair & two earrings, he was a far cry from Snake Eyes!
He ushered me into the blood draw station, where I felt obliged to tell him (as I always do) that I am a total wimp with needles, have a low pain tolerance, and have a history of fainting. He assured me he was really good with the needle.
Game on, cute nurse-man, game ON!
I asked if he had different types of needles- specifically smaller needles, and realize in retrospect my key mistake here was not saying the words BUTTERFLY NEEDLE. He did choose the smaller of what he had (NOT a butterfly)- and went in.
He said something long the lines of "there's not much coming out" and moved the needle around while pushing on my vein. F***!! I was in so much agony he stopped. And instantly the flashing lights of an ocular migraine began.
He said he thought he might have just enough blood for the test sample (please oh PLEASE)- and asked if I could wait while they spun it. My arm was still throbbing in pain.
I waited 20 minutes. To have another substitute nurse come out and tell me they had to re-draw.
Happily, it was love at first poke with the substitute nurse. She immediately got out the BUTTERFLY NEEDLE and was so fast, it hardly hurt at all. Why oh why can't they ALL do it like that? Cute nurse-man was never seen again- I'm assuming his ego was as bruised as my right vein.
Exhausted, I headed home to pass the time until my appointment with Dr. Vaughn. Babycakes, fresh from a full nights' sleep/sleeping in, found me and said he'd had a really weird morning as well. He'd just received news from a friend that his ex (whom he had been with for 12 years prior to our getting together) had recently had twins. And there was a picture on Facebook to boot (yes, I had to see it). And they had names that easily could have been ones we'd choose: Lukas and Lilly. BC worried that maybe he shouldn't have told me, but I would never want there to be secrets between us.
I was now left feeling bruised AND battered. Totally blue. It's interesting how some pregnancies totally don't affect me (like my friend who is now preggers through IVF- whom I was genuinely THRILLED for) while others completely demolish me. And the fact that she had twins. At 38 some years old. My BC's ex, Ms. Fertile Myrtle.
So I proceeded to Dr. Vaughn's office snotty and red-faced. Not sure if this explains my crazy emotions, but I do have some teenage follicles partying in there:
Right ovary: (sweet)16, 14, 14, 14, 8, 7, 6
Left ovary: 12,11,10, 8, 7
When I asked why the number of follicles changed visit to visit, Dr. V said the total number of follicles doesn't matter, and that he only measures the largest ones. The 4 teens on my right side are making a run for the lead! He again said that ideally we want 3 mature follicles to release; if 4 released, and *if* 4 took (which would be highly unlikely... and... HELL NO!) we'd need to be prepared for serious talks about selective reduction.
The BEST news of the visit was that Dr. V wants to see me again Tuesday- and ISN'T GOING TO MAKE ME DO A BLOOD DRAW THAT MORNING! I guess my sob story about this morning's experience got through to him. He said my estradiol (estrogen) levels are progressing such that we won't need to draw that day (142 day 3, to 290 day 6, to 582 today- day 8). I seriously wanted to kiss him!
Phew. What a day. There was more crap that ensued with grocery stores not having ingredients I needed, a real estate contract falling off, etc. etc., but I think I've vented enough for one post. May tomorrow be a sunnier one!