I called Nurse Cutie Friday, as I had expected her to have obtained Mr. MLACS’s blood results (from the blood draw this past Tuesday) and Mr. MLACS was bugging me to get him booked to “make his deposit” before he departs on Wednesday. Nurse Cutie said she would call the lab and call me back–which she did–and she informed me that all of Mr. MLACS’s blood work was in (and negative) EXCEPT for his Syphilis test…WHICH MAY TAKE A COUPLE MORE DAYS…(business days) and this result is absolutely necessary to proceed with treatment (which I find odd since the other RE clinics never tested him before) and thus…
IF WE DON’T GET THESE RESULTS IN TIME FOR MR. MLACS TO GIVE HIS SAMPLE BEFORE HE HAS TO LEAVE, THEN WE CAN’T DO THIS CYCLE.
Are. You. F*cking. Kidding. Me.
And, Mr. MLACS (if you have been following along, he’s a pretty good guy…until there’s a money or work conflict) was a COMPLETE DICK about it. I didn’t even get mad AT him, but since I was upset his (stupid) knee-jerk response was to be defensive and say “THIS IS NOT MY FAULT!”
What he could’ve said:
1. “That sucks babe, lets hope that this cycle works out”
2. “Don’t get upset babe–it will probably work out”
3. “Hun I’m sorry you’re upset and I wish I could do something to change things”
4. “I know my job is making this difficult but I appreciate you rolling with the punches and I hope you know I’m doing my best”
5. ANYTHING. That f*cker could’ve said pretty much ANYTHING besides “This is not my fault”. Douche. Bag.
And then he proceeded to give ME the silent treatment, because I left the house in a huff. Um, does anybody see anything ass-backwards about this? I kind of wanted to kill him.
But I was the bigger person (not physically–he is twice my size–but I mean emotionally I am more mature) and I invited him to go see the new Spiderman movie. And so we did. And then we were fine (at peace with each other) except that the movie SUCKED and we were the oldest people in the movie theater by at least 10 years. I totally ditched my diet and had some peanut M&M’s.
Then I woke up early this morning with my period, and cramps. So last night’s M&M’s are totally justified.
So today is CD1, and so I called Dr. Diet’s office to make a monitoring appointment for Monday. And I assume I’ll need to begin injections. But you know, all of this will be for NOTHING if Quest labs doesn’t get their sh*t together and provide us with Mr. MLACS’s Syphilis results, so that we can collect his sperm….
This is starting to feel like Monopoly. I’ve seen the infertility/Monopoly game analogy, and this is what it’s looking like for me…
Order Gonal-f, get order on-time and move forward 5 spaces.
AF is late and I wasted 3 FRER’s, move backwards 2 spaces.
Mr. MLACS’s blood results are not in….move all the way back to START???
I want to kick Quest labs in the shins. Hard. Like they fall on the ground and I just keep kicking Quest labs until somebody pulls me away and puts me in the back of a cop car. *Spits on Quest labs as they drag me away*
So, pray for me. Pray for my twisted soul–pray for Quest labs if they don’t give me my mf*ing results by the time I go in for this monitoring appointment on Monday.