Today was mock transfer day.
And give me all your money day.
Instructions for the mock transfer (it is what it sounds like – a fake transfer to make sure they won’t have any issues with the real one) include coming to the clinic with a full bladder.
Full bladders and I? We don’t really get along very well. The paper stated I needed to drink 32 oz of water prior to the appointment.
As someone who actually avoids drinking water during the day because I pee so much (and, well because I don’t like water. What? It doesn’t taste like anything!) I had to put much more thought into my liquid consumption than the average person. The office is about 20 minutes from my work and the one thing I hate worse than a full bladder? Is a full bladder in the car. So I cheated a bit and drank as I drove (WATER!).
Pleased with myself that I didn’t have to go to the bathroom already upon arrival at the office, I was pleasantly surprised to be called back for my noon appointment at 11:50. For half a second I began to worry I didn’t finish the water soon enough.
11:50 – Enter room, undress (by the way I’m totally wearing dresses for appointments from now on – so much easier).
11:53 – knock on door. But its only the nurse again, filling out something and checking the equipment
12:00 – internet stops working on phone. Annoyed. Have to pee a little. Stare at ceiling tiles.
12:10 – finish reading all 20 pages of the consent forms. Chuckle at all the suggestions that say things like “more research is needed” Have to pee a little more
12:15 – Crap. I have to pee.
12:17 – Ok, I’m giving this guy 3 minutes and I’m going to pee anyway
12:20- ok, 5 more minutes. *begin uncomfortable shifting*. Considered pee pee dance but somehow doing the pee pee dance commando just didn’t work in my head
12:23 – OMFG I have to pee
12:25 – doc comes in. He shakes my hand and says “hi”
He begins to explain what he’s going to do. I was glad I already knew what procedures were for because the entire time he is explaining them to me I’m thinking that he could tell me that they are going to insert egg eating aliens into my lady parts who will come running back out and spit eggs into a petri dish when we do this for real and I would have kept nodding because I HAD TO PEE!
He gets my feet into the stirrups and asks me how work is going.
For real? I find myself actually muttering “nothing more awkward than half naked small talk”. No one laughs. I mean come on. You all spend all day sticking random objects into women, and no one gives me a chuckle. Sigh.
I am relieved when this is over quickly and am guessing this means that transfer should go pretty smoothly, but at this point I don’t care. He asks if I’d like to use the bathroom.
Me: for the love of God yes!
I can see this relationship is going to go really well.
The mock transfer went well. The saline sonogram (basically checking for polyups or cysts) was all clear.
Afterwards I met with the nurse (with a painlessly empty bladder I might add) signed my consent forms, reviewed the calendar, and was released to hand over all of my money.
I’m not sure why, but I kinda felt like I was doing something sneaky. I had the nervous giggles. If I didn’t have payment in my hand and hadn’t uttered “I’m here to pay for my cycle”, someone probably would have thought I was about to take off with the plant by the front door or the magazine rack.
But it’s paid, and I didn’t have a heart attack or lose any limbs (literally – figuratively I think I’m down to one arm). And while, admittedly I have thought to myself several times before about how unfair it seems that we have to have the money to pay for this AT ALL (don’t gasp, you would have thought it too), I was actually relieved that it was covered and that we won’t have to make payments for the next 2-5 years.
This better work, dammit.
And because it just seems like the thing to do, the obligatory meds picture:
Hi, I’m ready to cause you possible headaches, nausea, bumps, bruises, sore breasts etc. Enjoy!