When the nurse
called with the news, even she laughed. The damage: I am still, effing,
pregnant. My HCG is almost down to zero. But not quite. I clock in at a
breathtakingly-so-close-to-being-un-pregnant 1.45 (down from a high of 69).
On one hand, I’m
not surprised – my pelvis has felt oddly busy the last 48 hours. On the other
hand, umm, really?
The nurse at my
usual weekday-clinic had casually said I could start on Clomid prior to my
appointment with the doctor on Tuesday. But Saturday-other-clinic-nurse was
cheery and breezy as she informed me of what she thought I already knew – Clomid?
Yeah, sure. But not before 10 days of re-regulation birth control, sucker!
Because I’m an
assertive, strong-willed, stand-up-for-myself lady, I made a short, but
impassioned, plea to skip the birth control, quickly rattling off a list of
(made up and probably not medically sound) reasons why birth control was wildly unnecessary, even medically contraindicated
(possibly throwing around medical
jargon I heard C use). After politely hearing me out, she, ahem, declined to
entertain my “alternative treatment plan.”
