So, I’m having my husband call the doctor’s office to try to get some information out of them. This makes me feel like a bad feminist and a bad adult, but I’m clearly not having much luck getting information out of people, and I don’t know how much longer I can maintain my weak grip on sanity if I don’t have some kind of blueprint.
The problem right now is that they’re monitoring me every other day — like really, every other day, as in I have to go in on Sunday to get a scan — and no one will give me an idea of how long that’s going to go on.
To be fair, I only really tried to ask once. I asked the nurse how long the monitoring phase — i.e., the transvaginal ultrasound phase — would last and she said, “Well, we’ll probably want to do a lot of monitoring.” Continue reading