January 24, 2003
Baseline Sonogram
Dale and I decided that even though the Texas Fertility Center isn't contracted with our insurance, we'd go ahead and begin treatment. As we'd discussed with the doctor in our first visit, I'd called to schedule an exam when my next period began. That ended up being today.
Though this exam would involve an ultrasound, I didn't have to have a full bladder since it was going to be a transvaginal scan. I was told to strip from the waist down and 'assume the position.' When I was ready, the doctor and a nurse came in and we began.
Quite simply, this exam was to get initial images and measurements of my ovaries and uterine lining to use as base measurements for upcoming scans. Once again, I got to see my stubborn, oversized ovaries and their numerous cysts. As soon as the doctor had his images, I was allowed to get dressed again.
During our first meeting, the doctor had explained that the Clomid couldn't have caused the discomfort I'd been feeling. It can have side effects and cause mood swings during the last few days of taking it, but it wouldn't have caused the aches I felt. He suggested that we try an increased dosage of Clomid as our first step, along with close monitoring of my cycle. Dale and I had talked about it and decided that's what we would do, so we were sent home with a release form for my records from the ob/gyn and a prescription for Clomid that was twice what I'd taken previously.
We go back on Feb. 4th for a progress check.
January 02, 2003
Texas Fertility Center
What a way to start a new year.
Today was our first appointment at the Texas Fertility Center. Dale and I were both pretty nervous. I hated that we had to go to this place at all. It makes me feel like a failure, that I can't even accomplish such a basic biological function.
We had a few minutes to sit around the waiting area after we arrived. Some of the tension was relieved by the pleasant distraction of a HUGE saltwater aquarium in set in the middle of the waiting area. It was gorgeous and made us wonder why our own tank hadn't even come close to looking that good.
We were called back and led to an office with a curio cabinet filled with baby-doctor-related knicknacks. We nervously sat there for a little while until the doctor arrived. After introducing himself with a bonecrushing handshake, he sat down, flipped through some paperwork, and fired off a number of questions, jotting down our responses. I started to get discouraged because of the very cold and detached way we were being grilled about such a personal aspect of our lives.
After several minutes of this, as Dale and I hesistated over a question, the doctor looked up at us and cracked a joke. That broke the ice, it seemed, and the rest of the question-and-answer session was a little more relaxed. After he was done with the questions, the doctor leaned back, looked at us, smiled, and said, "I am very confident that we are going to help you." He then started explaining the different options we had and making suggestions as to which he thought would be better for us. By the time we left his office to move to an exam room, we both felt a lot better about the doctor and clinic.
I had a brief physical exam, and then Dale and I were sent home to think about what course of action we wanted to take, and to contact our insurance company again to find out if we could get coverage for this. So far, the doctor has us quite hopeful, and I think we are going to pursue treatment through TFC.