OK, I'm done with that.
Anyways, I call Diamond like a good girl, and go in for my ultrasound on Friday, which must take place between cycle days 1 and 3. This is not the ultrasound that you see on TV, where they glide something over your belly for a few seconds and you don't even have to get undressed. Nope. You go in, "take everything off from the waist down," and have a lovely intimate encounter with what The Stirrup Queen lovingly refers to as The Dildo Camera. (Sorry, I had to). Yes, you are still bleeding; no, you didn't make the little bastard buy you dinner first; yes, it's over in about 60 seconds, and no; no one has a cigarette afterwards. And yes, I forgot to remove the Diva Cup. So, rather than put on my job interview outfit again, I wrap myself up in paper, and slink down the hall to the bathroom, reminding myself to remind Jami to remind me to do this if, God forbid, there is a next time. Except that she already asked me if I needed to stop there first, like she always does. After Jami declared, "Your ovaries are quiet," she left, returning with more estrogen patches and instructions for this cycle. (If there are cysts, it can interfere with the effectiveness of ovulation induction drugs, and they can ask you to sit the cycle out). After it was all over, I plunked down my MasterCard, firmly concluding that labor and delivery will be far less degrading than this.
On the plus side, she accidentally called my Femara into CVS instead of Freedom. I got a text saying that it was ready and all I owed was my co-pay. So...$60 saved I guess. I took the first two pills on Saturday (cycle day 3).
A couple teeny pills that could change my life: