How It Went

Okay, bottom line: It went fine. I have to get a few things sorted out, but when I'm ready I just show up on CD2 and let the party begin.

Gulp.

Now the drama: I show up, and they have no record of my appointment. None. "Is there anything that can be done?" I ask, whimpering. Nope, I'm told. And I make an appointment. For next month. I'm 40 freaking years old. I'm not happy about waiting an extra month JUST for an introductory appointment that frankly, I already had. (I met with this clinic twice, about six months ago. And then set about getting insurance to go ahead).

If y'all recall, I don't make my appointments. H does. It's a combination of the fact that I don't have the privacy (or time) at work to do it, and the universe likes him better. (Every time there was bad news, I got the call. Good news, him). So when I hit the pavement I call H up. And I leave the teariest, most pathetic (and slightly angry) voice mail message you can imagine. I stand there, on a Manhattan street corner, and I sob for a good ten minutes. (You may recall, I was nervous about this appointment to begin with.) Then I get in the subway and head home.

When I get off the subway, H calls my cell. "They said you never made the appointment," I sniffle. "I know," he replies, "can you be there in twenty minutes?" What? Somehow, me standing in front of the receptionist looking forlorn wasn't enough to move someones schedule around. An angry husband calling up was.

So back I went, and darned if I wasn't seen IMMEDIATELY. Dang.

If you'll note the links to your right, you'll notice I listen to N.o Pea in the P.odcas.t, with your host Gabby. And last week Gabby made an off hand comment about your TSH level should be 2 or lower if you are trying to conceive. (5 or lower is good for anyone else). I have hypothyroidism, and I had taken the advice of Heather and Bea and brought along every scrap of medical history I could find. (Seriously. I had copies of films from the test where they shoot you up full of dye to see if your tubes are working. In addition to the write up that said everything was flowing fine). I mention the hypothyroid, and the RE looks at my pile of paper. And gasps aloud.

Now, I should mention the RE I was seeing was... let's say... professional to the point of being robotic. When she shook hello, she hurt my hand. When she asked me to follow her, I had to jog (JOG!) to keep up with her. She talked so fast, in flat staccato tones.

For any doctor to GASP upon looking at my TSH results would have been... odd. For Dr. Robotica to react so violently... I jumped out of my seat.

The gasp causing truth is that I've apparently never tested below a 3 point something, thyroid-wise. And that isn't good. She gave me the names of some endocrinologists and STRONGLY suggested that I take care of it before we went to the next step.

Lord Almighty. I've had HOW many IUIs and one IVF and this is the first time someones noticed? I've filled out the blank "what other medications are you on" with Levothyroxine more times than I can count -- wasn't anyone paying attention?

(Lie and tell me that this isn't really as big of a deal as I take it to be. Or tell me the fact that I did NOT respond to the f.ollisti.m that I took for all previous procedures was related to this. Or something. I'm dying for some CONTEXT, here.)

Anyway. I have an appointment with an endocrinologist next month (so I have to wait a month anyway -- THERE's irony for you).

So now's all to do is some blood work for me (genetic screening) and H, see this new doctor and figure out how we're going to pay for medication...

Which I haven't the slightest idea how we're going to do it...