16 with update

Thank you, sweet well-wishers.

It went well. The experience was weird (how could it not be?), but ended quickly and relatively painlessly and I got to sleep on my couch all day, which doesn't ever happen unless I'm donating my eggs. So that's a bonus.

I promised I would recap the experience on here for a couple people who love me enough to always be interested in my navel-gazing stories.

Arrived at clinic a mere 10 minutes late, and was called in about 30 seconds later. E could not come with me, since "they can't be responsible for more than one person." Fine. I usually act like an idiot under anesthesia anyway, and E saw too much last time, so I was actually kind of grateful that she wouldn't see me act foolish a second time.

Nurse led me back to the "surgical suite," and on the way there I passed 3 of the many doctors who have been up inside me the last couple of weeks. Each of them cheerily waved and called "Hi, GS! See you in a bit!" I was slightly confused, thinking there would only be room in there for 1 doctor with a foot-long needle. But I smiled and waved back anyway.

At my clinic, there are about 7 doctors, and you see whoever is available at the time for your scans and for the retrieval and transfer. I had attempted to learn who would be doing my retrieval, but couldn't really get an answer from any of the nurses. Apparently all 3 of these doctors thought they'd be the lucky wielder of the foot-long needle that morning.

So I got ready, little socks and gown and fluffy hat donned, and I climbed aboard the retrieval table. And then I got kind of excited. Not for the retrieval or the transfer or the potential of this IVF working...no.

For the drugs.

I know I'm sick. I remember being a kid and getting a tiny bit thrilled when I had a cavity because I knew it meant getting the laughing gas.

Then our sweet doctor - the one we started with - walked in just as I was getting the IV in my hand. Of all the doctors there, he is the most gentle, the least offensive wielder of dildocam, so I was very happy, since last time I bled heavily afterward and didn't feel right in there for weeks.

He asked how I was feeling and I told him OK but about to feel a lot better, as the anesthesiologist was preparing the first of several injections into the hand-thingy. For a sick moment, as I saw syringe after syringe headed toward my hand (why so many separate drugs?), I imagined lying on the executioner's table. What's wrong with me?

When he noticed my drugs were flowing and that I was chatting away happily with the anesthesiologist, he gripped my knee and said "Is E in the waiting room?" I guess I looked loopy.

The anesthesiologist had me talking about something, and then the next thing I knew I was in the recovery area, with our sweet doctor telling me he got 16 eggs, and that was great, and good job in there, but I don't know if I said anything coherent back because I had cotton mouth.

Anyway, I get the report on how many were mature and fertilized this afternoon.

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Updated to say that of the 16, 14 were mature and 11 fertilized (with ICSI).

AND, all 11 look not in the least bent or androgynous.

Granny would be proud!