I did finally get a period, of course. But now I am in pre-cycle limbo, in a sort of antagonist-suspended animation. Instead of BCPs, I am on a quarter-dose (62.5) of ganerelix. I do have CD6 and CD9 wanding appointments, and a CD-2 lab slip for baseline blood work.
My protocol is only a little bit different this time. In about a week I'll go on the half-dose of ganerelix plus the always lovely dexamethasone. When I start the stims I'll be on three days of follistim 600, then step it down to 375 for (hopefully) fewer days than last time. There is a correlation between stim time and quality, so we're hoping for a faster response this cycle. As far as quantity goes, more is always nice, but quality is the focus now. I am a science experiment, at this point. I keep telling myself that it will be so nice to be done with this, to know one way or the other, to be free from always wondering. If this cycle is a bust, I have one more in September and then it's all over. Done.
It's so odd to be back at the clinic. I don't have the visceral loathing that I came to have for my last clinic, the money-sucking-time-waster that I have to drive by on my way to work. In general, I'm happy with my RE and the staff is efficient and helpful. But it's sad to be back there, to know that whatever happens I won't have that same hopeful feeling again. If it works, great. If not, fine. I know I've written this same kind of sentence over and over again - it's my mantra now. Whatever happens, fine. Fine, fine, fine.
But who am I kidding? I know that hope creeps in, that once things look good at all, at any step along the way, hope flings itself into the picture and then that's that. I keep wondering if it will be different this time, if I won't let myself expect too much, if I can keep the process at a distance. And maybe I can. Maybe. But I doubt it.