Me: Um, well, ok.
Nurse: You didn't?
Me: Um, no.
Nurse: That's ok.
I was also supposed to have come back in for an ultrasound a week ago.
Me: Really? Really. I just don't remember hearing that.
Nurse: That's ok, we'll do it next week.
Turns out everything's ok and still on track (or the sweet nurse didn't want to risk my magical ability to hear nothing and wants the RE to tell me). And tomorrow at the ultrasound I'll ask all the questions I was supposed to ask, like maybe:
- If the two that were transferred didn't implant (rhetorical question, but need it for the set up), why should my two on ice implant, e.g., what if the whole basket is rotten?
- What kind of drugs will I have to take? Lupron? Adavan? Zoloft?
- If this doesn't work, when I can do another round of IVF (fatalistic, yes, but necessary. I'm a planner)?
- Why is it so easy for meth addicts to get pregnant?
- Why do people ask stupid questions? (I met a woman this weekend, who asked, "so tell me all about you. Do you have children? Why not? You're not getting any younger, you know." Really? Who knew.)
- You must know a lot of doctors, plastic surgeons even. Any chance of a good customer discount?
Or I won't.