The appointment for the baseline was promised to be uneventful to make sure everything was “quiet” before we started. Quiet before the storm. Don needed to work that day so I told him I could go by myself. He had been there with me every appointment until then. Again, my doctor wasn’t there doctor that did our IUI (now known as the “bearer of bad news”) came in. She was chipper as a bird until she saw the cyst. Duh, Dum, Duh! There it was, a big fat 2 cm cyst of my right ovary, that I vaguely had remembered seeing when we did the IUI. Her face dropped, and it looked like she was about to cry. “What’s the big deal?” I thought. She apologized and whispered to the nurse about why my doc had not run a certain test. She turned around like she was about to tell me I had cancer and said we had to put off the cycle until we could figure out what it was. What do you mean what it was? It was nothing…right? They mumbled some more stuff about what it could be, I heard possible two week delay, more tests, possible drainage. They looked at me like I should burst into tears. I didn’t understand. They took some blood and said they would call me with instructions. When I got back to my car, I called Don and as soon as I heard his voice I did burst into tears. “I don’t understand what is wrong, why is this happening to us, why does this have to be so hard, why do we have to wait again….” , and down it went from there. Poor Don on the other line had no clue what hit him. I know he felt helpless, asking if he should come get me. After my pity party died down I told him I would be okay and that I was going to take the rest of the day off and shop to busy my mind. One foot in front of the other, Sarah, one foot in front of the other. Trust the doctors and trust God’s will.
So I went in that Wednesday with Don for yet another test, and for them to drain the cyst. The doctor and nurse tried to talk me out of it. Yes it would probably be best for the process, but it would be very painful. They would basically perform an egg retrieval without the anesthesia. I am tough, I thought, so if it was an option between the everloving waiting or pain, at this point, I would take the pain. They gave me a percoset to “take the edge off”, and proceeded to use an 18 gauge needle through my uterus into my ovary to suck out the juice. The needle was not nice, but I was okay until the fourth time he tried to draw back on the needle and I screamed. It felt like a knife severing my inside and sucking them out. It was probably the worst pain I have ever felt, even if it was for a minute. The worst of all is that he couldn’t get anything from it. Nuttin’ honey. He apologetically said it must be solid, like I knew what that meant. On the verge of tears I asked if this was bad or good. He said it was probably good……maybe…which, by now I realize, really means he has no idea.
After the whole cyst fiasco, they decided to start me on my “protocol” anyway. So I began the Lupron injections on a Sunday before church. Don got up with me and watched me do it. I know he really wanted to help. The injections are no big deal, and each day I mark off on the calendar of meds and count the days left until the action. That is where I am now. Waiting again… Tomorrow I am scheduled to have an ultrasound. I had a dream they did the ultra sound and the cyst took up the entire screen. I am hoping and praying it is gone altogether.
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