After yet another restless night, we got to the clinic around 9:45 am, signed in, and not too long after, DH was called in to the collection room. I waited around for a bit before I was then called to go in to the back wing of the clinic, which I honestly never knew existed. Suddenly the hustle and bustle of the morning monitoring folks disappeared and I ended up stumbling down this empty hallway that slowly looked more and more like a hospital. I was directed to the recovery and procedure room where I was greeted by a super friendly nurse and another kinda-friendly one. The room had maybe five beds, each separated by tall curtains.
Super Friendly Nurse took my vitals (my BP was a little higher, so she thought that I must be nervous... um, yeah) and then asked me to strip down into a pink hospital gown, hair cover and booties. They even throw in a bathrobe for you, coz you know, we're VIP and stuff. When she left, despite my nervousness, I still had the foresight to quietly snap a picture of me in hospital gear.
They said I could leave my socks on, and so I slipped those booties around my socks. Oh how I amuse myself.
Kinda-Friendly Nurse then walked in and asked if she could go over some post-procedure instructions. So I'm on Doxycycline and Medrol (steroids) for a week, and progesterone suppositories three times daily. As I'm mentally planning on how I'm going to have to be discreet about doing this at work this week, she casually throws in that we're expected to be back for embryo transfer on Saturday, in six days. But, I sputtered, aren't we doing a day 3 transfer? She shook her head and said they almost always only do day 6 transfers now, which I then sorta panicked because I know nothing about day 6 transfers. I mean, I know it's an embryo on day 3, a blastocyst on day 5... what comes after that...?! Is it still a blastocyst?
My high school Biology teacher would be so disappointed.
DH soon came back in to join me, which was great because it was weird lying on the bed, just being left to my own thoughts for that long. Collection went well, he said, and when he saw me in my hospital gear, I think things really hit for us that this is really happening. Kinda-Friendly Nurse came back to draw an IV but because my right arm has been super spent given all these daily blood draws, she tried the left arm. After jabbing me three times in the left arm with a huge needle and silently muttering how annoyed she was that she couldn't get the catheter in because my vein was too thin, she finally gave up and said that she'll have someone else come in to do it. Super Friendly Nurse came in after a good 20 minutes, jabbed me on the top of my right hand (which proceeded to hurt like hell) and stuck the catheter in. But she did it in one jab and she was in. That's why she gets to be Super Friendly Nurse and Kinda Friendly Nurse gets her designation as such.
Fast forward to thirty minutes later and the doctor who performed the retrieval came in. He was a nice older gentleman, with very kind eyes and a great smile. I recognized him as one of the founders of the clinic and remembered reading about his years of experience and accolades for research innovations in the field of infertility. Made me feel tons better instantly. Then he assured us that everything would be OK and that it would be a quick and easy procedure. Great bedside manner does the trick, every time. The anesthesiologist then came in and did his little spiel, and then the meet and greet was over. Time to get started. I gave a quick wave to DH and walked into the cold, dark procedure room.
Fifteen minutes later, I woke up after hearing DH's voice in the background. I quickly figured out that I was out of the procedure room but something prompted me to groggily say, "Oh man, I dreamed that we were late to the appointment. Are we late? Did we make it?" DH later told me I actually said that in front of the nurses who wheeled me back into the recovery area... embarrassing but I bet they have heard weirder things coming from people waking up after anesthesia. According to DH, for some reason, I also kept trying to slap the band from the blood pressure monitor off my arm as the nurse tried to put it on. I don't remember that so I think he made that part up.
I also don't remember this part of recovery: The doctor came in and informed us that the procedure was a success and we retrieved a good number of eggs. He promised an exact number once they were settled in the embryology lab.
Presumably because I wasn't super heavily anesthetized, I was kinda alert within 20 minutes of being wheeled out. Since I was required to stay in recovery for at least an hour, DH and I kept ourselves entertained with the lady in recovery next to us who was a super difficult patient, much to the chagrin of the nurses, but who also said some pretty amusing things under anesthesia. I won't repeat them because I do feel her pain. Then the nurse walked in and showed me a piece of paper with the number 10 written on it. "This is how many we got," she announced, almost proudly. Ten eggs... I beamed like a mother hen.
I'm feeling a lot more relaxed now that retrieval is over. But I am anxiously waiting for tomorrow's news. The embryologist will call tomorrow to confirm how many of the 10 eggs get fertilized. As for the rest of the week, the adage "no news is good news" goes (i.e., they will only call if something goes wrong). I can't wait to not hear from my nurse this week!
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