This is the conversation I had with my husband while getting ready to head out the door to go to the doctor for my Day 3 blood work:
Him: You sure you don’t want me to go?
Me: It’s just a blood draw I’ve done about a million. Don’t worry about it, I’ll be fine.
Him: You sure? You look nervous.
Me: Because they HURT and I HATE them. You’d think with as many as I’ve had lately they wouldn’t bother me anymore.
Him: Yeah. You’d think. <<Heavy sarcasm>>
And that ladies and gentlemen is when I punched him in the face. OK, I didn’t but I maintain that it would have been justified!!
Let’s back up a little. Day 3 blood work is a blood panel that measures three different hormones and uses your levels to evaluate your fertility. If you want to know more about it, google it.
So I get to the doctor, and what I thought was going to happen is that the cute little blood draw lady, we’ll call her Nancy, would stab me in the arm, take what she wanted, bandage me up, and send me on my way. Then a nurse would tell me that once the doctor had reviewed the results she’d call me and tell me what to do next. I assumed there would probably be some charting, maybe more blood work in a week or something no big deal. This is after all, only the first month. People, I was wrong. W. R. O. N. G. WRONG.
Nancy did her thing and then Captain ordered me to have a ultra sound. I have a wonderful doctor. She is a tinny woman full of large contradictions. She has the disposition of a drill sergeant but still manages to show she cares. She's strait to the point, doesn't sugar coat anything, and quite frankly a bossy pants. Somehow though, she's still has a warmth about her. I call her Captain.
I asked her if everything looked good on my ultra sound and she laughed at me. That's right, she LAUGHED at me!
Then she says, "Oh, Honey. Yours will never look GOOD." I think she says things like this for my reaction. It always works. She assured me that everything looked as she expected and then asked if I was ready to start.
To which I replied "What are we waiting for? I aint getting any younger!" Stupid me. All full of gusto, ready for her to tell me to pee on sicks or take my temperature. Stupid naive me.
"Great!" she replies, "We'll start you on one vial a day."
"WHOA, WHOA, WHOA!" I said. "That does not sound like something I put in my mouth!" Again, she laughed at me. Out came the vials, needles, and instructional DVDs. I tried not to shit my pants. Long story short, I have to inject my self once a day with drugs to help develop my eggs. I go back in a few days for more blood work and another ultra sound to see if they are "ready".
Speaking of blood work, I'm sure you are all dying to know my test results. Everything came back normal. YAY I'M NORMAL!! FIRST TIME EVER!! "Why all the needles then?" you ask. I guess because Captain doesn't jack around. I asked her for a baby and dammit she plans on giving me one ASAP. I love her.
So until my next appointment I'm going to try not to be a weenie while stabbing myself in the thigh on a daily basis. Also, I'll try not to punch my husband in the face.
So I get to the doctor, and what I thought was going to happen is that the cute little blood draw lady, we’ll call her Nancy, would stab me in the arm, take what she wanted, bandage me up, and send me on my way. Then a nurse would tell me that once the doctor had reviewed the results she’d call me and tell me what to do next. I assumed there would probably be some charting, maybe more blood work in a week or something no big deal. This is after all, only the first month. People, I was wrong. W. R. O. N. G. WRONG.
Nancy did her thing and then Captain ordered me to have a ultra sound. I have a wonderful doctor. She is a tinny woman full of large contradictions. She has the disposition of a drill sergeant but still manages to show she cares. She's strait to the point, doesn't sugar coat anything, and quite frankly a bossy pants. Somehow though, she's still has a warmth about her. I call her Captain.
I asked her if everything looked good on my ultra sound and she laughed at me. That's right, she LAUGHED at me!
Then she says, "Oh, Honey. Yours will never look GOOD." I think she says things like this for my reaction. It always works. She assured me that everything looked as she expected and then asked if I was ready to start.
To which I replied "What are we waiting for? I aint getting any younger!" Stupid me. All full of gusto, ready for her to tell me to pee on sicks or take my temperature. Stupid naive me.
"Great!" she replies, "We'll start you on one vial a day."
"WHOA, WHOA, WHOA!" I said. "That does not sound like something I put in my mouth!" Again, she laughed at me. Out came the vials, needles, and instructional DVDs. I tried not to shit my pants. Long story short, I have to inject my self once a day with drugs to help develop my eggs. I go back in a few days for more blood work and another ultra sound to see if they are "ready".
Speaking of blood work, I'm sure you are all dying to know my test results. Everything came back normal. YAY I'M NORMAL!! FIRST TIME EVER!! "Why all the needles then?" you ask. I guess because Captain doesn't jack around. I asked her for a baby and dammit she plans on giving me one ASAP. I love her.
So until my next appointment I'm going to try not to be a weenie while stabbing myself in the thigh on a daily basis. Also, I'll try not to punch my husband in the face.
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