First let’s get the update out of the way.
We’ve decided to wait until the new year to think about IVF because then we can max out our Flex Spending Account. Yeah, yeah, I know we should have done that LAST year. Live and learn. So, in the meantime we’re going to try a few rounds of intrauterine insemination (IUI) with Femara this time. I’ve already done four rounds of Clomid and the side effects were really hitting me, so it’s on to another drug. We’re scheduled for our first IUI tomorrow morning at 9:30am. So wish me luck! Now on to this week’s post!
I know you’ve all been there: hanging out in the stirrups with something inserted into an uncomfortable place, while trying to make small talk with your doctor. We make jokes, “Hey, shouldn’t you take me to dinner first?” We try to lighten the mood, “How does my bikini wax look?” We laugh, “That wand certainly sees a lot of action!” But it’s still uncomfortable. During my last appointment – my CD12 ultrasound – we chatted about plans for the weekend and I told my doctor I would be volunteering at a 9/11 Memorial 5K Run benefiting wounded warriors in my state. I told him to come on out and run, not actually thinking that he would….
September 11th was a solemn day, but it was also cathartic. At the run, people talked about how 9/11 affected them. I spoke with veterans and military spouses who’ve been particularly hard hit in the 10 years since then. I also spoke with many ROTC college students who were only children when 9/11 happened and yet had the course of their lives altered. A pastor spoke and we had a moment of silence at 8:46am, the time when the first plane hit the north tower of the World Trade Center. But it wasn’t all so serious. I watched children playing in the courtyard surrounded by flags – one for every person who died on 9/11. It was actually wonderful to see that, a reminder that life goes on and that we honor lives lost by living our lives well.
But then the awkward moment happened. (Insert sound of needle scratching to a halt on a record here.) As we were standing at the finish line cheering in the last of the runners, my husband leaned over and whispered, “Hey, isn’t that your doctor over there?” Sure enough, there was one of my reproductive endocrinologists, dripping with sweat from the run and chatting with his wife and three kids – one still in a stroller. I went over and said hello and he introduced me to his family as one of his patients at the hospital. His little girls were adorable. I thanked him for coming out and running. He thanked me for telling him about the race and I chatted with him and his wife for a bit. I actually refrained from saying what was in my head which was, “You know, now TWO men here have seen my girly bits!” See? Sometimes I can self-censor!
On the surface, it was all very pleasant, but I couldn’t help feeling awkward. Life in the infertility clinic isn’t supposed to intersect with daily life. It was kind of like when I figured out as a child that my teachers actually had lives of their own – they didn’t sleep at the school and just pop out to teach us when needed. Or the time in the lab when I ran into the guy I sued – three times! – when I was a practicing attorney. So I was all angsty about it, until one of my friends pointed out that I had the chance to see my doctor as a whole person, with interests and an adorable family, and he had the chance to see me in the entirety, with my own family and my volunteer cause. That can only be a good thing.
But when I go in for my IUI on Tuesday morning I’m definitely NOT inviting him to the party we’re having next Sunday. He just might show up!
