Saturday, April 3, 2010

CD 15...layed my eggs H would say. Just in time for Easter! That cracks him up. (More like he cracks himself up since he is the one that came up with that.) They got 10 eggs and he keeps telling me that it's a "Ginger's dozen." The bad jokes don't stop, folks. Seriously, I am happy with that count. I just hope the fert. report is good news.

Everything went fairly well today with the exception of the pain...they do NOT use the goods drugs at Cornell. Just a little Tylenol to soothe my banged up ovaries. I think the swelling and bloat makes everything feel so much worse. I am drinking Tiger Woods Gatorade as I type. Hmmm, maybe I shouldn't have opened that bottle...could have been a collectors item. BTW, the flavor is called Quiet Storm. Ironic considering he is dealing with his own personal shit storm right now.

We were out the door by 12:30 but the valet's brought us the wrong car and we waited for 30 min. for them to locate it. They lost my damn car on the day of my retrieval...can you believe that? The car is replaceable, but my sock monkey was in the backseat! Gabby (his name) stays in my car because H says I need someone to make sure I don't speed since I have a fast car. (Which reminds me...I brought a banana with me to snack on yesterday and I put it on the backseat. H yelled.."Don't put it back there, the monkey will eat it!" Something else I found hysterical yesterday. Damn hormones.)

H had the girl at the desk laughing. (I was calling her personality plus....sarcastically). Close to his designated sample time, he walked up to the desk with a question about his job for the day. (I left the instructions in the car the valet's nearly lost.)

H: "Is this where I need to be to give my sample?" (H being discreet)

PP (Personality Plus): "Sample? What sample?"

H: "Sperm sample" (Said in "H whisper" ... discretion gone. The man can't whisper.)

PP: "Sperm?"

H: "Yeah, sperm. Urine's not gonna work so well here." Ba-da bum. (cue drums)

She who did not crack a smile all day did giggle for him. Um, If this girl works in an IVF unit, shouldn't she know what "sample" means?

I don't really like the way Cornell handles their retrievals. I don't like the fact that all of the women having their retrievals sit around in hospital gowns next to their "responsible parties" (husbands, partners, parents, whatev)who are in street clothes. I don't like the fact that you have to be there so early and you just sit around. It is pretty awkward.... you don't really talk to each other. I just kept trying to figure out who was older than me. Once you get closer to your Op time they move you into a tiny waiting room with just the women. (It's smaller than my closet.) There is a space for 3 people but they only have 2 magazines. Crappy magazines and I was not interested. I tried to make a little conversation with the girl across from me whose knees were touching mine (kidding but it is close quarters!) but she wasn't in the talking mood. Whatever. I mean, I don't like people talking to me on planes or trains but I figured we had something in common and could bond a little. Her loss.

They didn't make me pee before I was able to leave like most places do. I have never had a surgery (I have had about 30) without being threatened to make pee before I left the hospital. I couldn't go and I was so afraid my bladder was going to burst on the Thruway. I felt the urge around the Ramapo service station so we stopped and I also grabbed a coffee. While in line at Dunkin Donuts I saw a man with a set of twins in a stroller. (Boy, girl just like I want!) Think that's a sign? Or God's way of saying "Naaaaaaaahhhh, naaaaaaaaaahhhh look what you'll never have? I mean, why did my bladder kick in when we reached that particular stop? I'll let that get me through the next 2 weeks.

Off to put my feet up. If H comes home from the market and finds me out of bed he is going to yell.......

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