I’m heading today to an island to try to relax, because my embryo transfer, if all goes well, will be on Sunday, July 17. The island belongs to a chain of Islands near Istanbul, and it’s called Heybeli Ada — which has something to do with a knapsack used on a camel (because the island has two humps), but to me it just means Hey Belly Island.
Yesterday was quite stressful, unfortunately. I’m using a new doctor because my previous doctor moved to another clinic. He’s a little bit arrogant (and has Derek Shepard hair), and he started me on a different protocol than what Dr. Arikan had used, with estrogen patches instead of pills. It’s normal to get checked after ten days or so to make sure it’s working, and then do the final check four days later or so.
But this doctor said it wasn’t his protocol to do that. I asked him if he couldn’t check me anyway, because it takes five minutes (for him), and I’m using a new protocol, and I’m really far from home. And sure, the protocol works 90% of the time, but 10% is a lot when you’re stuck in a place you don’t want to be, and another cancellation means paying over a thousand bucks to change your ticket, pay your rent, etc. (not to mention paying for medications again) — and I was already out an extra $2000 for polyp surgery and everything else due to the last canceled cycle. And I really miss my husband.
He just basically said, “Don’t worry about it.”
Well, sure enough, he checked me on the day he wanted to check me only to find it didn’t work. I ovulated through the medications. If he had checked me earlier, we could have followed it closely and seen exactly when I ovulated and planned around it. As it is, we either had to cancel the cycle or make an educated guess and keep going.
Words really can’t convey how furious I was at this guy. And of course he neither admitted he was wrong nor apologized.
He just kept saying, “That’s my protocol, it usually works. I can’t check for everything.”
Sorry, but that’s bullshit. I didn’t ask him to check for everything. I asked him to check for one thing.
Anyway. The good news is, there’s a window of implantation opportunity for day 5 embryos, so you don’t have to be completely exact. And I’m so done with this clinic and this place, and this hot weather with no air conditioning and annoying roommates and bad, over-priced food, I really don’t think it’ll be healthy anyway for me to go through all this yet again. And who knows — the fact that I ovulated means I have a corpus luteum, which is producing its own hormones, and in the end that may be exactly what I need.
The doctor doesn’t know. Science doesn’t know. I don’t know. It’s a leap of faith either way. So we decided to go for it.
This morning I got a call from the embryology department and they said all the embryos look great. We’re hoping at least 2 will survive to Sunday (day 5). If by some miracle all 3 survive, we’ll freeze one again. (This doc refuses to transfer all three at once because he says the chance of triplets is too high. He said if they looked crappy, he’d go ahead and let me do it. I guess that’s a good sign.)
So, because of the doc’s stubbornness, there’s some extra stress and uncertainty. But we’re also hopeful. Maybe this was exactly what needed to happen. I guess we’ll find out.
Meanwhile I’ll be on Hey Belly Island, trying to find my chill.