I have a pretty impressive bladder. So impressive, in fact, that I usually pee right when I wake up in the morning and then not again until I get home in the evening. Five days after I started work at an office building (about a million years ago) I found myself with my underwear deep in my crack and no safe place in which to extricate it. So I asked my boss where the restroom was. She simply could not believe that I'd gone an entire week without needing a daytime piss. (What is more amazing is that I'd gone that long without a wicked wedgie.)
Even a woman with a bladder of steel finds some difficulty on the day of the Trial Transfer, though. The words "drink 48 oz. of water in the 2 hours leading up to your appointment" strike fear in the heart of many, myself included. However, I cannot help but try and be an overachieving patient and so I dutifully down my 48 oz. And then some.
I took myself out to my favorite breakfast joint this morning, prior to my transfer appointment. On the way there I drank an entire bottle of Evian, filling myself so much that I was unable to finish my waffle. (Wait, did I say waffle? Me, on the no processed carbs PCOS diet? No. Surely I meant "eggwhite only omelet". Yes. Omelet.) Although I couldn't shove down that "omelet", I did manage to consume large quantities of coffee and a glass of squeezed-before-my-very-eyes orange juice. And not wanting to find myself with a bladder improperly inflated I requested another glass of o.j. for the road.
On the 45 minute drive to the doctor's office I had a sudden realization. I had to pee, yes, but I was also experiencing a certain "unsettled" feeling in a nearby region. Somehow I'd forgotten that coffee can sometimes make me "uncomfortable" and when you add in Metformin, well, terrible tragedies could result. By the time I arrived at the office there was a definite rumbling that I tried my best to ignore. I couldn't use the bathroom - I don't know if you ladies are more talented than I, but if I let loose on one area the other is bound to follow, and I needed that brimming bladder! So I crossed my legs and hoped for the best. If things go well there is a damn good chance that in 10 months time I will find myself crapping on a table in front of a team of doctors. OBs expect that sort of thing and I have no reason to suspect I will be immune. (Although remind me not to drink coffee (decaf, of course) past 36 weeks.) However, I don't think an RE is quite as accustomed to witnessing her patient's bowel movements up close and personal.
A few moments after I undressed and gingerly positioned myself on the table the doctor entered (which was welcome after I waited THREE HOURS with a full bladder for Dr. Who to bless me with her presence during my first Trial Transfer). The nurse accompanying her grabbed the ultrasound probe and while I would ordinarily be grateful for the abdominal u/s, as opposed to the vag cam, having a big flat wand pressed on your belly while you desperately need to pee (and in my case, shit myself) is less than optimal.
But I made it. I even managed to crack a joke about how well the spotlight shining on my crotch highlighted my ridiculously unshaven legs. (They told me they wouldn't have noticed if I didn't mention it, but that now my chart would be branded with a giant "DOES NOT SHAVE" stamp. I told them I didn't mind, I was paying them so I'd come as hairy as I liked. We all had a good chuckle.) After learning that my ute doesn't ask for a secret handshake to enter (I told you I was a whore) and that I am a textbook-easy transfer, I was finally allowed to head to the bathroom. And in just another example of why I love this clinic, they told me that the restroom was just around the corner and that if I was desperate I should just wrap the sheet around me and run down the hall. No one would mind. And they were serious! God, I love this place.
I do. I love this new doctor and her office and her staff. I love the personal attention they offer. Except when that personal attention means waiting outside the door to the tiny (stall-free) restroom so they could show me to the consult room when I was finished. Ordinarily that would be a welcome and thoughtful gesture, but when one plans to violently abuse the bowl and cannot control what sounds or smells might escape...well, a bit of space would have been appreciated. So I sat down and doing my best to contain the beast, I let a trickle run. That was the longest pee in history. I knew that if I forced it at all there would be no control over the nether regions, so I just let gravity do it's work. I swear it was 10 minutes before the last drop hit the water. But I escaped without any further breaches and the nurse dutifully waiting outside was none the wiser. Damn, I'm good.
On a *much* *much* more exciting note than my bathroom escapades, guess who is officially knocked up?! My fairy godmother, Gretchen, had her beta today after IVF #2: 240! Two hundred and forty! At 14 dpo! That girl is so having twins and it couldn't happen to a nicer person. Go congratulate the new mom-to-be!
In other fantastic news, our dear Busted transferred a sibling of the Doodles this morning in her first FET. Send all the implanting/dividing/growing vibes you've got her way!
Let's make Spring '09 beautiful!