I didn't post yesterday because I was a mess. Upset, anxious, wired mess. JD came back from his appointment with some good news (no mechanical issues, no surgical exploration needed), orders for more tests, and no information on what the urologist would recommend for the course of treatment now or as a result of seeing the test results. I was mighty pissed at lack of that last bit of information. More tests, and a follow-up appointment in the new year felt like pushing things off some more. I mean if nothing is going to change in this month of waiting for tests and results, can I start a cycle while we wait? If the tests are just to determine whether he might benefit from a dose of testosterone prior to my producing an egg, than can we please get on with producing an egg while we wait? Not knowing an answer to that is driving me nuts, although I suppose we should get some kind of an answer tomorrow afternoon when we see the RE.
This morning started off pretty badly. Since my medical care is at The Big Hospital (TBH), while I work at The Other Big Hospital (TOBH), and there is a shuttle that runs between them, I figured I would get to work as usual and catch the shuttle to my ultrasound appointment. Getting to work as usual, though, involves parking my car at a garage affiliated with TOBH and taking a shuttle that runs every 15 minutes and takes about 20 to get there. So does anybody see how a shuttle that I was counting on taking to TOBH breaking down instead would throw a wrench into this carefully orchestrated plan? And how it would be equally frustrating to then have the inter-hospital shuttle take extra 10 minutes to get there? So I can probably be forgiven for thinking that by the time I got to TBH they would tell me that I missed my appointment and need to reschedule. I don't know whether it was simply luck or the magic of my hospital ID complete with the sad shuttle story, but the receptionist was extremely nice to me and said they will accommodate me.
And indeed, the tech came out pretty soon, was very nice, and even agreed to leave the screen at an angle where I could see it. The angle wasn't great, so I was not sure I believed what I was seeing until she asked "So you had a cyst on the right ovary?" That's right-- it turns out that I was completely wrong in my prediction that Immanuel would stick around and demand an honor guard for his surgically orchestrated exit. It appears to be gone. I am confused because there is still some pain in that area, but I guess I will just have to accept that I am simply so ginormous now that my organs are starting turf wars for the space as yet unoccupied by adipose tissue. And yes, before you all yell at me, I promise to ask the RE about the pain tomorrow. I suppose it is possible that Immanuel burst around the time I was having the worst of this pain. And I suppose it is possible that my pain threshold is high enough that I only registered it as unpleasant, but not yet worth a call to the doctors.
Well, whether it left with a bang or a whimper (dissolving slowly and quietly), it is still gone, and that is the good news here. It is also CD1 (making the last cycle 27 days, after 39 days, after 72 days-- fun!), which is convenient for the RE appointment purposes, I hope. I am still a little disoriented, not knowing what to expect tomorrow, and not wanting to get my hopes too high up, but still having the distinct feeling that if we leave the appointment without some kind of a date set up for some kind of something or other to start happening, there will be tears.