We are officially in the countdown to retrieval. Hopefully, tomorrow morning at 9am will find me drugged into bliss. As the song goes, if it’s wrong to love those anaesthesia drugs so much, I don’t want to be right.
I have to admit that I am more than ready to deliver the harvest. The girls have been barking for over a week now and they remind me of their outrage at their current condition everytime I sit, stand, walk, lie down – essentially do anything. But, I remind them, nicely since they are hormonal, that this is for such a good cause and their discomfort (and mine) is temporary. Hopefully, they will see the bigger picture here and do the right thing.
The theme this go round has been more mature eggs. Last time I had 11 eggs retrieved, but only 7 were mature, of which 5 fertilized. I am very fortunate that I can produce those kinds of numbers with my eggs, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little disappointed. IVF is a game of attrition, so the higher the number you start with, the better chances you have to have lots to work with. Lots of mature eggs, no whammies!
I’m making no predictions as to the numbers for tomorrow. I never kept count while Dr. Salsa was doing the wanding thing – not even for the three days in a row! I have learned that I just take the number and latch onto it, so best not to get a number to begin with. And, hey, I have a surprise to look forward to tomorrow.
Now, all I have to worry about is what book I will take with me to enjoy while I wait for the show to get on the road – thick tome that I will certainly not finish, or mindless fiction? Decisions, decisions.
I’ll try to update tomorrow because I know that all of you will be waiting with baited breath to hear about how many eggs I managed to give up.