Meds arrived last Friday. I didn't unpack the box until I arrived home. Yes, yes, I know that Follistem needs to be refrigerated, but I also know...from experience...that they pack it nice and comfy with ice packs. Back off, would you, I'm a pro. I put the Menopur in the refrigerator. Funny, I don't remember it taking up so much space last time. I take the empty box to the garbage outside. In the alley. Behind the garage.
Saturday morning I decide to check off the meds I received against the packing slip. So responsible. Hmm, strange. Follistem pen, but no Follistem. Is it in the fridge with the Menopur? Um, no, but Menopur doesn't need to be refrigerated. Silly. Take nicely chilled Menopur out of the fridge. Smack head, holy smokes, big pharmacy forgot to send me $1500 worth of Follistem. Dumb pharmacy. Call pharmacy. Explain gently, kindly, patiently that of course I checked the box. I'm a pro. I've done this several times. Pharmacy screwed up, send me Follistem. Yes, yes, I'm sure you checked the packing list carefully, big pharmacy, but I wouldn't be so stupid to throw away $1500 of injectables. Yes, thank you. You'll send it next week? Great. Click. Pause. Silence. Put on raincoat, shoes, retrieve box from garbage behind garage in the alley. Remove $1500 worth of Follistem from box, nestled neatly under two ice packs. Call big pharmacy back. Tell them Nevermind.
Like I said, a riproaring good start.
I kind of like the idea of getting my third and final IVF on the road at the end of 2008. It's almost a year to the day since my first IVF. Almost exactly a year of blogging about it. And 2009, well, it will be a new road, one way or the other. And how often do you get to do a fresh cycle and potentially thrown in a blast on ice at the same time? Wicked cool. As a testament to this solemn occasion, I have made the following vows for this, my last IVF:
- I will stop purloining latex gloves from the examination room. Yes, they are fun to shoot across the examining room. Yes, there is a thrill in gathering my pink paper bottom half cover and jumping off the exam table to retrieve the gloves and then shove them quickly in my purse to hide the evidence before the nurse comes in . If I simply need a pair of gloves to use at home to slice a jalapeno, I will buy them at the Kroger.
- I will stop fiddling with the keys and controls on the dildo cam apparatus before the nurse comes in the room. And I will not retype my name to "uterus of doom." I'm the only one who finds it amusing.
- I will no longer ask when the padded covers on the stirrups were last laundered.
- I will never ask for my HCG shot to be administered in my thigh. Never, never, never again. I will never again refer to the nurse administering the HCG shot as Satan.
- I will never again call the RE a weenie for giving me only two xanax. Along the same vein, I will not justify my comment by pointing out I have the tolerance of a Clydesdale.
- Finally, assuming I make it to transfer, I will not suggest to the RE that this time he get the embryos in my uterus, which will be more hospitable then, say, my liver or bladder.