June 11, 2012
I went to work this morning. I’d have gone stir-crazy if I didn’t. My appointment for “ultrasound and consultation” was this afternoon. There was no way I could sit at home. Might as well save a few hours of PTO by clocking in until it was time to leave.
And the cyst is gone. And the doctor isn’t sure what that means. (How about this, doc? Maybe it means that it acted like most of these cysts do and resolved itself in four-to-six weeks and therefore means NOTHING!) And that was the ultrasound portion of the afternoon.
From there, we moved to his office so that he could tell me that it’s clear to him that I don’t ovulate. (Have you been keeping track of the data points? One cycle. He’s seen me for only one entire cycle. And from this, he’s determined that I’m 100% anovulatory. Considering I have NEVER missed a period, I think he might be wrong.) He also told me that, based on height, I should only weigh 100 pounds, and that weighing more than 150 (as I confess, I currently do) means I weigh more than 150% my “ideal” weight. I did point out that I exercise regularly, so my body fat percentage is better than my BMI might indicate. I should have added that my wrist measures more than six inches, so my ideal weight is actually 123, so 150% of my ideal weight is really 180 pounds, which I do NOT weigh. For reference, I weighed 120 when I got back from Rome at the age of 20. I was incredibly thin, bordering on too thin. One hundred pounds is an unhealthily thin weight for my frame.
Yes, I was pissed. I’m really sick of BMI being touted as a measure of health when it was never designed to be used on an individual basis. It is useful for measuring populations, but should never be used on an individual level. This is why when I “weigh in” every six weeks, I take my measurements as well and enter everything into a lovely spreadsheet that then gives an estimated body fat percentage. Do I need to lose weight? Sure. Am I working on it? Of course. Is my body fat in a healthy range? Actually, yes, as a matter of fact, it is.
Oh, and he wants me to start on FSH. (That’s follicle-stimulating hormone for you laypeople.) After one cycle. FSH comes in one form, and it’s not a form you can swallow. I don’t do needles well. I mean, I really don’t do needles well. Okay, I’m not as bad as some people. I don’t get lightheaded or nauseous. I don’t need to lie down. But I do cry. And I can’t look. I can’t look when it’s a real needle going into my body or when it’s a fake special effect on TV. And he wants me to skip possible treatments of things that I can swallow and go straight to the injectables. (I’m good with swallowing pills. I’ve been downing the horse pills that are prenatal vitamins for more than six months.)
I told him that I’d like to avoid FSH if at all possible. He kind of rolled his eyes at me when he asked why. (I told you his bedside manner sucks.) I gave him my first reason: the risk of multiples. He insists that the risk is very low. Not sure I’m buying that. You’ll note I started with the not-wussy reason. So then I told him that I have a pretty severe needle phobia. His response? “It’s no worse than an insulin shot.” Yeah, ’cause that’s not the part of diabetes that really freaks me out. Seriously, his response to me being terrified of needles is to compare it to ANOTHER needle. Like this will make it better.
I insisted, and he, in not as succinct a manner, told me it’s my funeral, but whatever, if I just want to try for a few months like they used to recommend, then we can do that. (Okay, that last part was real. He did tell me that they used to give it a few months to gather more data before jumping straight onto drugs, but most couples are too impatient these days, so he doesn’t normally do that anymore. First, I’m not a couple. The reason I haven’t gotten pregnant in the past year is because I wasn’t doing anything that could possibly result in pregnancy. Second, I like to have enough data to actually draw a line of best fit. So let’s just slow down, okay? Give my body a chance to actually work before declaring that it’s broken.)
So now I have to wait again. Until my next period. Then we’re back to calling for the date of the cattle call. The good news is that my parents will be back from my brother’s by then. I usually don’t mind going to the doctor’s alone, but this place? With this doctor? I’m bringing reinforcements next time!