Question: Should I Wear Socks?

It's been a long 24 hours. By the time Jerry and I got ourselves some supper and a hotel room near the Metro Hospital, it was 11:00pm. With the goal of getting up by 6:30am so we can be dressed and at the hospital by 7:30, how much sleep do you suppose I got? Now whatever number you came up with, divide that by the factors related to a strange hotel bed and a husband who chronically snores. Yeah, you got it, not much.

This may seem like a rather redundant post for most of you that have "been there, done that," but by writing out all the details, I will finally be able to answer the all-consuming question regarding the socks (see prior post). So pay attention.

Our appt was to be held on the 9th floor, Labor & Delivery. Yup, that's right, L&D. Nurse W. from the clinic was optimistic by telling me that the location was so I can be familiar with the area when I needed to come back in 9 mos. I'll go with that, even though driving 2 hours in labor will not be my idea of fun, just to fulfill some destiny. Plus, since I never got a L&D with Max, I thought I should take advantage of the situation.

I was instructed to change into one of the loviest gowns I have ever had the privelage to cover my bear posterior: grass green, with purple and pink plaid striping, designed by none other but Gucci...Fred Gucci, Jerry smartly pointed out. The nurse started an IV, with some trouble, due to "tiny veins." She also reviewed the discharge orders and found out that we would do 1cc PIO nightly, starting tonite. The anesthesiologist came in and started me with some stuff to help prevent the nausea, which I usually experience post-anesthesia. The nurse then presented me with quite the stylish blue chapeau and a pair of matching hospital slippers. So . . there you are. It won't matter if you wear socks with holes, socks with individual toes, or no socks at all, because the surgical ensemble trumps it all.

By 8:30am, I was escorted by a nurse who pushed the iv tree while I was shuffled in my designer gown and slippers; the anesthesistist; and Dr. D. who caught up to us walking from the L&D to the surgery suite; with Jerry pulling up the rear. The picture that came to my head, which someone else in another blog once wrote, IVF Woman Walking (if it was you, feel free to take credit).

Once in the suite, I had to figure out how to gracefully mount the table without tangling myself up in the iv line or knocking over the sterile supplies, yet still end up in the appropriate position conduscive to an aspiration. I did manage it without looking like a total doof. My legs were lifted into the padded stirrups and both arms were spread onto the extensions: one for the anesthesiologist and the other for the bp cuff. I told them that I felt like a bug impaled on a pin, and I giggled at the mental picture. I was asked if I was starting to feel a little drowsy, to which I replied, "no" (more giggling), then I said, "yep, I'm feeling it," and that's the last I remember until I woke up back in L&D. The staff told Jerry I giggled a lot, pre- and post-procedure.

Dr. D. only took 15 minutes to do the aspiration. I was in recovery for another 45 at which time they came and got Jerry, and the L&D for about an hour. Surprisingly, I felt pretty good. I had a minute amout of spotting, some cramping, but no nausea (yippee!). By the time we were released, I felt good enough to do some quick shopping before we headed back to Smallville.

They are supposed to call me with the fertilization report tomorrow. It makes me wonder at which point can I stop anticipating the "next day" nervously. You're right. Probably never.
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Oh, did I forget to mention how many eggs they got? Now before I tell you, just keep in mind I have no idea what the initial quality and maturity are and that I would've been thrilled with 5 . . .
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They got 10.