Give 'em the ole razzle dazzle

Ahhhhh! I have a million things to do to get ready to go on our trip tomorrow. It's funny how, when you want to look to your best, you suddenly realise how far you've let yourself go. I only have a couple of hours to remedy that before I have to get back on the bus to the Other City again. Legs to shave! Nail polish to paint on! Eyebrows to pluck! Fake tan to apply (just a light shimmer, girls, none of that nasty orange stuff)! Outfit to select- and that is causing me some difficulty, since it is suddenly turned bitterly cold again, ruining my carefully laid out wardobe plans. Instead of my "springtime frock with smart thin coat and strappy sandals", I am half wondering if I can get away with fur-lined muumuu to hide menstrual bloat, and matching mukluks.

But I didn't want to leave you in suspense about the consultation yesterday at the O.C.

We met with the doctor as planned. In terms of manner, he could not have been more different from Dr Percent. Within thirty seconds of us sitting down, he was jesting in a friendly, avuncular way, making off-colour jokes, and calling me things like "pet" and "lovey" and "hen".

There was, throughout the entire course of our meeting, a certain amount of bluster and showmanship about his abilities to "get women pregnant" and to "work miracles." I looked over at E. at one point, and knew he was thinking what I was. To a degree, our strings were being pulled, as he told us exactly what we want so badly to hear- that this will work. That this will not bankrupt us emotionally, physically and financially. That we are in good hands.

Of course, it came out sounding something more like: "Pretty young thing like you, with your sweet little FSH of only 8.5! Only 34 years of age! Hell, I get women in here over 40 all the time! Anything under 12 is fine! You're just a spring chicken! Tubes clear? Good girl! I've got a good feeling about you two, oh yes I have!"

It was sort of like a consultation with the Billy Flynn of doctors. Give 'em the ole razzle dazzle. Stick with me kid, I can make you a star! A pregnant STAR! I could barely hear what he was saying over the sound of the tapdancing.

*Jazz hands.*

In terms of our options, he said exactly the same thing as Dr Percent, only with less stupid diagramming and number crunching. That we could do an IUI if we wanted, but an injectible cycle was going to be relatively expensive, and probably not worth our time or money.

"Look," he said, "we'll do one IVF. That tells us a lot of what we need to know. Among other things, it will tell us if there is any point in carrying on with treatment. I know it may seem an expensive diagnostic tool, but the main thing we have on our side is your age- so let's get in there, let's do it, and LET'S GET YOU A BABY THIS SUMMER."

And that was that. We then all linked arms to high-kick our way down the hall to the nurses' station, top hats tipping and canes a-'twirling. There we made an appointment at the next available opening toward the end of June. That will be our shots class, and all that jazz. Thereafter we can start the IVF process immediately.

With that, Dr Billy Flynn disappeared stage left with a last firm handshake and puff of smoke. We spoke to the nurse for a bit. She seemed all right, and I didn't cry this time. Oh, and we got shiny gold stars for having all our blood work done already.

Afterwards, E. and I sat in the car, slightly dazed, trying to collect ourselves.

"I think we were sort of played in there," I said.

"Oh, I know we were," E. replied. "But it doesn't change things. It doesn't matter whose office we sit in, or which city. We're still apparently unable to get pregnant, and we still have to make a decision about what we want to do about it."

So we went to have dinner. Over a large glass of wine, we concluded the following: neither of us is absolutely in love with Dr Billy Flynn and all his blustering bullshit. But his bedside manner is a considerable improvement on Dr Percent, whom we both loathed. Leaving all the stage-managing aside, and despite his propensity to calling me things like "pet", Dr Flynn was not condescending, or rude, or dismissive.

We do want to do something. And having thought about it, if we are going to incur hassle and expense, well, perhaps moving on to IVF is our best bet at this point. It's a big scary leap, but there are undeniable advantages to just getting on with it.

The success rates are exactly the same in both places. The cost is roughly equivalent, too. But things seem a lot more straightforward at the OC and a lot more organized. The clinic has excellent opening hours, designed to bear in mind the schedules of working people like ourselves. And E. is an awful lot happier about the location, as it is much handier for him. Not for me, of course, but it's always easier for me to take time off for appointments than it is for him.

And so that, dear friends and fellow castaways, is the plan. IVF at the O.C. End of June. The taking-action part of my brain is purring like a happy kitty while the other part is freaking the fuck out. But maybe in two months I will, er, have gotten more used to the idea, as much as I ever can.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go pack and do my nails. I may be infertile, but at least I'll be petal-fresh and party-pretty.

Comments

[cass]

Still giggling at the thought of a nice dance number with a Fosse hat and tails - right down the hall of the doctor's office. And really, it seems like a lot of IVF doctors have that overly slick and positive attitude to get you jazzed! and! ready! In any case, it sounds like you've made a decision with which you're both comfortable, so congratulations on this next exciting step!

Do you have a sequinned robe to wear to your appointments? It seems it might be appropriate for this clinic. :)

[Kristin]

The thought of that dance number has me rolling...too funny. I sure hope the OC and Dr Flynn work for you dear.

[Amanda]

Yay for a plan!

[Suz]

Good to hear that you guys will be tripping the light fantastic at the end of June. Wishing you the best.

[lobster girl]

Bring on the IVF! Cha cha cha. Good luck darlin.

[Anna H.]

Oh, sweet, sweet plan...

I'll be here with you while you purr and freak the fuck out, all at the same time.

Sending much love to you, Mare.

xxoo

[Juno]

Lovely plan - an IVF in June!

I do want to see the high-stepping dance with the RE. And a big part of me is wishing you WOULD go to the Tudor wedding becasue I want to hear all about it from a snarky observer. I was invited to a SDtar Trek wedding, once, but was infortuantely forced to go to a family reunion instead.

IVF freaks me out, too, but now that I am in the middle of an injectible IUI cycle, I am eginning to openly hope for a conversion to IVF...the numbers are so much better and getting stabbed in the ass every night is getting old.

[Emily]

Yay for a plan! Siting here stocking supplies so I can front and center and not miss a thing.

Kisses.

[Dead Bug]

I'm tapping along like Gene Kelley on a damp night for you. Hope it feels better than good to finally have a plan.

Funny, my R.E. said the same thing about IVF as a diagnostic tool and I thought, christalmighty, that's one hell of a test.

--Bugs

[jen/vintageuterus]

Another springtime IVF!! YAY! Don't be freaked out. You've got a lot of support out here.

[Amyesq]

Whoohoo! A plan indeed.

[MsPrufrock]

I'm glad it looks like you finally have concrete plans. Ahh...IVF in the springtime...

[Kinneret]

Yay!! I'm so glad it went well.
But calling you a "hen"?? Is that a good thing on your side of the pond?
We'll be your "Chorus Line" anytime :)

[Thalia]

Given the pet names I now have a really good clue where OC is. But I'll keep it to myself. Really glad to hear that you have a plan. Enjoy the party!

[Pamplemousse]

Aaaaw, hen! A solid plan, at last. Have a fab trip but OMG, fake tan already! it clashes with the snow.

[alex]

I would so pick the one with entertainment...at least you will have a plethora to write about...and is that not all we need? blogging material?

Good luck ...tulips bursting forth, spring rains with a hint of rainbow, smells of earthly things, and black adn blue bruises ...nothing better.

[expat]

Um, guys? June is summer.

Yay!!! a summer IVF!! Given the choice between dragging my arse out of bed for a seven AM appoinment with a vampire while it's still dark and horrible and cold, and dragging it out in the summer when it's light, and warm and the air is fresh with the hint of warmth, I know I'd choose that.

And two months - you'll be champing at the bit by the time you're ready to start.

[Julianna]

That sounds like a fantastic plan. Have a wonderful time on your trip and enjoy your petal fresh self.

[Menita]

You know...it's an expensive diagnostic tool, yes, but it can tell you far more than any other thing if you've been diagnosed as unexplained. In my case, it wasn't until my first IVF that the docs learned that a major issue was the tough, coconut-like shell of my eggs that was driving all the boys away. This led to the use of ICSI and assisted hatching, and here were are...

It's not a guarantee, I know, but it can help give you many more answers.

Good luck on the trip, and hurray for a plan!

[Tertia]

good plan stan. crossing my bits for you.
xx

[susan]

Great news! Go Mare! Or hen? Dr. Flynn is introducing some confusing barnyard metaphors here. Keep in mind, jazz hands aside, the rapscallion did do his job and Roxie walked out free as a bird. May you walk out pregnant as a... well, pregnant person. Congrats on the plan.

[nina]

Sounds like a great plan!

[Dee]

Yea--who doesn't love them some jazzy IVF?

So glad to hear of your plan...and hope you had a great weekend, all pretty-nailed and bundled up!

[Luminista]

Yeah, but will he be wearing a sequined vest with matching top hat and gloves when he does the transfer? Preferrably in a shockingly bright shade of either red or purple? Because it's really not Show Choir worthy unless he does.

Ha! Good girl! Good for the plan! I'm excited for you!