many are the motherfucking obstacles in my pathPosted: February 21, 2008
No ttc this cycle (CD 11 today), nor likely any next cycle (CD 0 today). Bummer.
After last week’s fab HSG, I put in a call to my RE and had the usual lovely chat with Martha, the keeper of all knowledge. Her offical title is something like receptionist or appointment maker, or something. But this woman holds me, and I’d bet many others, in the palm of her sweet, southern-accented hand. She is the gate keeper to the kingdom of fertility. Which is to say, she sets up your shit with the RE. Which is to say she has your charts at her fingertips and she’ll whip them out, saying all the while, “now, just hang on….” She’s sweet and knows my name and we will never see each other. She is in a totally different building than the RE and to me she is now and always will be a voice on the phone.
Anyway, I called Martha The Gate Keeper Friday and she said to call back Monday once the results from the dye-job had been sent over and so I called Monday and for some reason I cannot remember nothing happened and so she called me back Tuesday and we tried to figure if my next appointment with the RE was “time sensitive.” To me it is, of course, but not really to my RE. He’s big into not hurrying, gathering as much data as possible and then, finally, moving forward. So anyway, the upshot of it all is that he thinks I should go ahead and have old Polly the Polyp taken out and one of the nice, nice, nice doctors from Friday’s HSG party is his friend and has been given the heads up about me and my fabulousness and so he is all set to go after old Polly with whatever one uses to remove such things. So after a trip through the university hospital’s phone system – a trip riddled with blind allies and dead ends – I got a phone a call back from Dr. S’s receptionist/gate keeper and she set me up an appointment for next Thursday. Woo! Right? Sort of. Thursday’s appointment is for a pre-op meeting. Mostly paper signing, according to the receptionist/gate keeper. From there we’ll set up the real-deal get that fucker out of there appointment. Lord. Which will be well into the next cycle, so no insems.
I’m struggling to keep up with all the good-for-me ttc shit – the temping and the pre-natals and the positive attitude. This feels like a break, damn it, but I had not planned on a break now. I had not planned on any more breaks at all in fact. This was the hell-bent-for-leather, throw-caution-to-the-wind phase of ttc that was going to end with a baby. But now I seem to be on a break. Back to the tattoo parlor and liquor cabinet with me.