Going to the RE’s office has become a death march of sorts. I can hear the music in my head as I walk from the parking lot to the door.
♫Duh, duh, da-duh, duh da duh-duh-duh-duh da-duh…♫
The waiting room has changed over the years. I really now feel like I’ve morphed into the “Norm” (Cheers, anyone?) of my clinic. I walk in and get the twenty questions game from my favorite staff and nurses. The newbies in the waiting room have that look on their face, as if they are thinking “egads, I hope I’m not here long enough for that kind of entrance…”
For me, the waiting room is always a step away from the worst moments of my life. And the exam room is always a reminder of the failures. I don’t remember the zillion follie checks, just the ultrasounds where I got bad news. It is never a good day when you get bad news while you are spread-eagle on an exam table with the hootchie cam in place. It’s a worse day when you have to go to the “Consult Room” immediately after an u/s.
That’s where the monsters live…
I considered going to the “big-farther-away-office” to escape having to face that dreaded room I’ve grown to hate. But my new found devil-may-care attitude said, “screw it, let’s just get on with it.”
Check in hand for one complete FET cycle (ouch), consent forms ready, I went today for my suppression check.
All is well.
Dr. Nerd was present an accounted for. His usual geekiness was bearable when he exclaimed that we are “not done yet”. “You put your trust in me to put a baby in your arms, and I am not stopping until I do.”
Really doc? Because watch your words unless you plan on throwing a freebie DE cycle my way.
I guess this train has left the station (again). I’m not sure what I am feeling. Except to say the Lupron coursing through my body now gives me additional leverage to freak out and blame it on hormones once more.
No turning back now.