So my left ovary cooperated this cycle. I have three follicles waiting in the wings for their big IUI debut, which will likely be on Friday or Saturday depending upon the results of my ultrasound tomorrow morning.
I was giddy when I heard the news (no small feat after waiting almost an hour and a half to see the doctor, by which time I was as steamed as a Maritime lobster) but now I'm just feeling kind of dazed and confused. And I have no idea why.
Let's just blame it on the Clomid again, shall we?
You know, it occurred to me the other day that it's possible that I'll move directly from trying to conceive (and hopefully succeeding) into menopause with barely time to pee in between. Which means it could literally be years until I feel sane again.
Years before a clear, concise, logical thought passes through my addled brain.
Speaking of which, it took most of my scanty mental reserves not to go ape-shit while I was waiting at the clinic. I don't mind waiting, and I understand that it's a busy clinic and I can't expect to be in an out in much less than an hour - I do. But when people who come in for cycle monitoring 45 minutes after me leave before me, I get really, really agitated.
I thought at one point I might seriously cry - great angry tears of hormonal rage (which, of course, I would have blamed on the Clomid).
I made due with imagining the great satisfaction with which I would pummel the nurse who I pinned as the one randomly deciding who got called in next. I loathed her today. Every time she lazily flapped by in her ill-fitting rubber flip-flops it was all I could do not to scream, "Pick me!! Pick me, dammit!!! I've been waiting here since before Kennedy was shot!!"
But I quietly seethed instead, sighing and checking my watch and looking disgruntled. And hating the nurse as she flip-flopped her way around the clinic with her powers and her bad dye job and her nose in the air.
I'm crazy and mean. I shot death rays at the ultrasound receptionists when they asked those of us waiting to see the doctor after cycle monitoring to move to the front waiting room in order to make room for ultrasound patients - most of whom were pregnant. Evidently I'd been waiting there so long that people who came in after me were already visibly pregnant and back for prenatal care.
I skulked off to the front waiting room (where it's virtually impossible to hear your name being called by the flip-flopping nurse) and pouted until a chair in the hallway close to the nursing station became available.
The flip-flopping nurse's shift must have ended while I was out front sulking because I was eventually called in by a different one. She seemed nice enough, but I punished her - and the clinic at large - by not smiling at her. Which I think is actually pretty restrained of me since I was really out for blood.
She looked at me kind of nervously and hurried from the room as I mumbled a disingenuous thank you. The doctor appeared about 10 minutes later and gave me the good news.
He has no idea how lucky he is that he had some.
So that's where things stand. An IUI any day now. And all I feel at the moment is fatigue and leftover resentment at the flip-flopping nurse who I'm fairly certain forgot about me, leaving me to rot - barren and uncomfortable - in a room full of pregnant women waiting for ultrasounds.
Ah, Clomid. God help us all if this infertility gig goes on much longer.