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.
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!