Another amusement park of a day.

Let me first reassure you that the day ended much better than it began.

Cause it started off really freakin bad.

Really bad.

Remember me asking for cyst be gone vibes from you all? How I was hoping beyond hope for the stupid bugger(s) to be gone so we could just get on with things?

Yeah. Thanks, but I suppose the power of positive thinking, while appreciated by yours truly, doesn't actually remove cysts on this particular plane of reality.

So I still have my cyst. It's shrunk a bit, but it's still most certainly there. And I don't know if it got bored or lonely or what, but it recruited a friend to set up shop on the other side of the street, and I now have a new cyst in my left ovary. Funny - I was all off balance last week; guess my reproductive system was trying to settle the score on my behalf. Very nice. Downright kind.

I had a doctor that I'm not altogether fond of this morning and my opinion of him certainly didn't change. When I mentioned that if the cysts were there the plan was to aspirate, he looked stumped, and said no way, there were too many procedures already booked. Then, trying to cover his tracks, he said since it had shrunk, we'd check the blood work and go from there.

Riiiiiiiight. How conveeeeeeenient.

Sigh.

So from there, the 'plan', the one thread that was holding my sanity together, unraveled. Everything was once again up in the air and I had no idea what the hell was going to happen next. Awesome.

If my estrogen levels were high, they'd try to aspirate tomorrow. If they had space. Then they might be able to salvage the cycle, but no guarantees. If the estrogen was okay, then they might decide to not aspirate, but instead start me on the new medication.

Goodie. Gotta love uncertainty.

After getting changed I had to check in with the nurse to get my 'pen' for the new druggies. We went through the motions, figured it all out, then I asked some questions. The answers of course drove me to tears in an instant, and yet again I was a blubbering mess in the rundown exam room of my clinic.

As I said, fortunately the day ended better than it began.

Many hours later, I got the phone call I'd been waiting for and was told that the estrogen levels had dropped, so I was to go ahead with the meds and return to the clinic on Sunday for follow up. Ah, relief.

Relief mixed with apprehension - how the hell is there gonna be any room for follicles to grow if the 'hood is already populated with punk ass cysts? Ah well - bring on the ovarian gentrification. As soon as a Starbucks opens up in my womb I'll know all is moving in the right direction.

My eyeballs hurt from crying. I'm tired, tired, tired, 'cause I haven't slept well in days. And it's only Tuesday night - the weekend is sooo far away. Booo.

At least the evening was great. While the boys geeked out on my dining room table, I feasted on ribs and a baked potato with two of my similarly fertility challenged WB gals and had a delightful dinner. We topped it all off with a venti decaf non fat no whip no nutmeg eggnog latte...and the world was seriously looking up.

From there we descended upon Nat's place to watch last night's episode of The Bachelor. Kicked her poor hubby up to bed and we switched from gastronomical feasting to Brad Womack - a feast for the eyes. Yummy. Who needs dessert? I'll have a helping of Brad with a Brad coulis, served a la Brad mode. Delish!

I return home to see the boys have made their retreats, and Hubs is on speakerphone with Sludge. While he plays World of Warcraft (a new addition to the geek-dom). Phone right beside the computer speaker. Volume not turned down all that much. And she doesn't even react. Ugh.

Now it's 11:30 and my eyes are burning from the earlier crying as well as need for sleep. I will therefore listen to the calling of my eyes and make my way upstairs to my warm, comfy, inviting bed for what I hope will be a restful night's sleep. After the emotional ups and downs of this day, I kinda think I've earned it.

Lights out. This amusement park is closed for the day.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?