A Perfect Storm

This morning's baseline ultrasound was a perfect storm of unfortunate events to make me into a basketcase for the rest of the day. 

On Friday, which I counted as CD1, I called and made an appointment for today's CD3 baseline ultrasound at 9am.  On the way to the office this morning, I was already feeling teary and uneasy given that this is the last cycle covered by the study and we do not really have set plans for the future.

Upon arrival, I had to wait nearly a half hour just to check in, which is far from unusual at my RE's office, then another half hour to have blood drawn.  When the phlebotomist called me into the room, the study coordinator weighed me to find that I have actually gained weight.  I have been going to the gym and Zumba religiously everyday and I have been tracking every calorie in MyFitnessPal on my phone.  I didn't exactly expect to have a big loss, but a gain was rather shocking. 

When I sat in the phlebotomist's chair, she attempted a blood draw from the same big vein that they always use on the left arm.  She stuck me three times, but was unable to get any blood.  She told me that I was probably dehydrated and that she would have one of the nurses talk to me.  Back out to the waiting room.

One of the nurses approached me a few minutes later and was actually quite rude about the whole situation.  I explained to her that this was my ninth IUI and I have had well over 50 blood draws in the past year and this has never happened.  I did the same thing I always do - drank a good amount of liquids the night before, then came in fasting.  In the past, I have even been told by the nurses that there wasn't much point to drinking water that morning as it would take well over an hour to actually go into my bloodstream.  Well, this nurse was having none of it.

She said that I needed to guzzle a lot of water, but that they couldn't give me water.  I would have to walk to the Wawa four blocks away and get some.  Now, at my RE's office, a 9am appointment is actually quite late on a weekend, and the phlebotomists leave around 10 or 11.  I didn't really feel that I had time to go for a stroll.  I told her that I was still waiting for an ultrasound, so she begrudgingly got me water in a coffee cup from the cooler in the employee room.  She said that I should drink six of these, filling it up each time in the sink.

I sat in the waiting room guzzling warm tap water, then I was finally called in for my ultrasound.  It went normally, then I had to sit back out in the waiting room, drinking more water.  I drank more warm water to the point of nausea and at this point, there was no one else left at the office.  Finally, the nurse called me back and tried her hand at sticking me two more times.  She couldn't get any blood.  A doctor came in, felt around and said that he couldn't find anything either. 

She even tried looking on my forearms, wrists and the tops of my hands.  I am already a little uncomfortable with needles, but I do just fine during a normal blood draw.  The thought of needles in my hands and wrists, however, makes me want to vomit.  I can't help it - it absolutely disgusts me.  I was already on the verge of vomiting with an empty stomach filled with warm Schuylkill Punch, and this was just more than I could take.  I put on a brave face, but on the inside, my body was having an inner debate about whether to faint, vomit or burst into tears. 

Finally, another doctor came in and tried her hand at sticking me two more times.  No blood.  At this point, it is after noon.  My mom and C are calling me wondering where I am and my head is spinning here, the last patient and five medical professionals whirling around and sticking me.

After nearly a half hour of tying and untying tourniquets, poking, stabbing, flicking and rubbing, they called the study coordinator to see what we could do.  The parameters of the study are so strict, I was afraid we would have to cancel the cycle altogether.  Luckily, Jean agreed to let me try another blood draw tomorrow morning at the lab in Radnor, then they will let me know tomorrow afternoon whether my levels are OK to begin taking the pills.  Technically, I am supposed to start taking them tonight, but I can't without the OK on my hormone levels.

I held it together until I got to the car, then I just fell apart.  I drove home through West Philly just sputtering and crying, hoping that no one in the other cars would see my mini-meltdown.  The combined knowledge of this being our last cycle and that it most likely will not work, coupled with my completely overwhelmed state of needles and nausea just brought me to my knees.

I also just found out early this morning that a good friend from work delivered her twins last night.  I am happy for her, but it came at a bad time and just added to the perfect storm.  When she and her husband got married, I was already in IF treatment.  Then, she confided in a few friends that she was worried because it was taking so long to conceive.  In her mind, "taking too long" was about six months.  As much as I like her and her husband, this was just too much this morning.