setting: day three cyst check. I'm pants-free and the nurse has assumed the ute-check position.
nurse: did you get a regular period?
me: yes, why?
nurse: (still examining ute) your lining looks unusually thick
nurse: you had bloodwork, right?
me: yeah, why? (I know why)
nurse: (mumbling) they do check hcg...
I tear up and pretend not to process what she's suggesting. I've had regular, red, clotty bleeding that was most certainly not implantation or any other such thing. I know I'm not pregnant.
She continues to poke around at my still-sore ovaries and declares my cysts too big (no freakin' duh) and offers me free samples of bcps. I tell her I still have some and she hands me a tissue for the tears that are trying so difficult not to escape. She tells me not to take anything until the evening in case they call me. Goody. A whole day of waiting to find out that I'm not pregnant. Even though I know I'm not, that teeny tiny piece of hope is enough to make me miserable.
I'm pretty sure we're done with IUIs. Clearly, they're not working. A case could be made that now that the endo is gone, there's a better shot now and there's no reason not to try a couple more times. Right now I'm thinking that we won't bother though.
For the last few days I've been hypersensitive. I've been doing a lot of crying. Nothing exceptional has happened, I'm just sad. Mourning, I guess.