Jessica Gendron

up then down then up then down then up….

Part 15

Amidst the tears, in the dreadful Room 1 of Dr. Carnovale’s office, I say, “We won’t be able to try again in August.  I’m on the road the whole month of August for work.  We’ll have to wait until October to do another round.”

Dr. Carnovale just stared blankly, I guess at a loss for words.

I muster up, “It’s just not fair.  First the surgery and now this.”

Dr. Carnovale offers a heartfelt apology and then instructs me to get dressed.  Sarah will have more instructions for me after that in her office.  Sarah and Dr. Carnovale leave the room, I look at Ben and just start crying again.  I bury my face in my hands and then bury my head in his chest.  This isn’t good news.  This is terrible news.  It feels like we keep hitting roadblock after roadblock after roadblock.

I slide my jeans back on, slip on my flats, grab my purse and say to Ben, “Let’s just get out of here.”

I walk out of Room 1, wipe the tears from my eyes, and put my chin up.  Sarah stops us in the hallway and pulls us into her office and starts instructing me what to do, “You’ll want to stop taking all of your injections and the aspirin.  Once you have a period, you’ll want to start back on the birth control…”

Just then Dr. Carnovale walks in and closes the door behind him.  I’m confused.

He says, “Jessica, it looks like your insurance will cover the ultrasounds and blood tests during stimulation.  Sometimes, the cysts aren’t active, which means that they wouldn’t throw off your hormones, it just would take up space where a follicle could form.”

In my mind, I’m thinking, “What’s your point, dude?”

“Since all of your testing would be covered, let’s test to see if your estrogen levels are normal.  If they’re normal, that cyst is likely inactive.  We can proceed then.  It’s not ideal, but given your health history, I don’t think we should wait if we don’t have to.” Dr. Carnovale says.

Wait what?

“Let’s do the blood estrogen test while your here.   If your levels are normal, let’s continue with stimulation…BUT if when you come in on Monday and the cyst has grown AT ALL, we will have to stop.  Sound good?”

Ben and I look at each other.  There’s no harm in a blood test that I was already going to have anyway…I’m still holding the paperwork in my hand for it.

I utter, “sure”.

I head across the hall and have blood drawn.  Now we wait.

Sarah says, “Okay Jessica.  I call you with news when we get your results back.  If your levels are normal you can decide if you all want to move forward or wait until the cyst resolves. It’s your choice.”

I’m a realist, but in this situation, I’m a pessimist.  I am no longer optimistic that any of this is going to work out, because nothing seems to ever work the way it’s supposed to with me.

Ben and I head back to the car.  I sit down, close the door, fasten my seatbelt and begin to sob uncontrollably as Ben drives away from the hospital.  The whole time I’m wondering, will I ever see that office again?  Ben is doing his best to comfort me.  He’s doing his best to try to make sense of it all.  I look up from my sobbing and say, “Can we go to Patachou?”

“Absolutely.” He responds.

Patachou is my comfort food.  It’s this little local chain that serves French bistro style breakfast and lunch. Ben knows it’s my comfort food.  They have the most amazing breakfast and the best chicken salad I’ve ever had in my life.  Add on top of it that you can order Cinnamon Bread  with everything – (imagine – thick cut homemade sourdough bread slathered with butter and covered in a cinnamon-sugar blend then smooshed together so it gets nice and gooey) it’s just what I need.  It’s only about 9:30 a.m., so we head to Patachou.

After the decision to head to the restaurant I begin to calm down.  Ben and I begin to play out the scenarios:

Is it better to wait until June?  What if the cyst is gone by then, leaving more space for follicles on my good ovary?  What if it’s not gone by June?  Can we even make a June cycle work?  What if my levels are normal and we can proceed?  Should we?  What if we get half way through and we have to stop and just wasted thousands of dollars of medicine?  What if we end up with zero eggs?  What if we end up with zero embryos?  What if we move forward with May, what do we lose?  What do we lose if we wait?

There’s a million scenarios that are playing through our minds and playing through our conversations.  None of them we know the answers to.  We commit to waiting to make a decision until we hear back from Dr. Carnovale’s office about my estrogen levels.  Until then, chicken salad and cinnamon bread are my comfort.

Ben and I sit at Patachou and devour all of it. I order my own cinnamon bread because I’m not in the sharing mood. We sit for a little while, drinking our coffee, in silence. I’m playing out every scenario in my head. I’m sure Ben is too. 

 
We get up to head home, but first a quick stop at the Sprint store. There’s something terribly wrong with Ben’s cell phone. Ben heads into the store and I decide to sit in the car – still crying. I’m angry. I’m sad. I’m frustrated. I’m a mess. 
 
As I’m sitting in my car, my phone rings. It’s Dr. Carnovale’s office. I think to myself, “Wow, that was fast.” It’s barely noon and we already have results. I don’t answer. Part of me is afraid of whatever news is sitting on the other end of the phone. Part of me doesn’t even want to know what the answer is.  They leave a voicemail. I sit and stare at the notification trying to talk myself into listening to it. I hit play. 
 
“Hi Jessica. It’s Sarah from Dr. Carnovale’s office. We got your estrogen levels back. They were in the normal range. Dr. Carnovale said that if you want to proceed, keep taking your injections and medications and we will see you on Monday at 9 am. If you decide to wait, just give us a call and let us know and we can put you on the schedule for June or July.”
 
Wow. Some good news. For a hot second it’s good news. 
 
I immediately start playing out all the scenarios in my mind again and I start crying. What if we go ahead and we have to stop because the cyst grew and we’ve wasted all that money on medicine? What if we wait?  Can we do June?  What if we waited until October, that feels like a lifetime away? 
 
I wipe my tears and head into the Sprint store. Ben is standing there trying to get someone to figure out why his phone has been automatically reset to the factory setting – – – thus wiping all his pictures, contact, and emails. Most people would consider this a crisis in their everyday lives – OMG EVERYTHING is GONE!  Not today and not for us.  In this moment it feels like no big deal at all. 
 
I think about whispering to Ben the news, but now is not the time or the place. 
 
20 minutes later, we’re getting back into the car.  I look at him and say, “Sarah called from Dr. Carnovale’s office.”

Ben looks at me and replies, “Yea?”

“My levels are normal.  We can proceed if we want.”

He asks, “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know.  I honestly don’t know,” I say.


In the 1.2 mile drive from the Sprint store to our house we talk through all the possible scenarios.  We pull into the drive with zero decisions and very little resolve or confidence.   Ben says, “Let’s just think about it for a little bit and see how we feel.”

At about 2:15 p.m. I still feel like I have no decision.  Ben says, “I think you should call the office and talk to Sarah or Dr. Carnovale about it.  Just call them.”

I pick up the phone and call the office.  I immediately get a recording, informing me that they close at 2 p.m. on Fridays.  MOTHERFU@*er!  What now?  I have to decide today!  I have to decide today and either take my evening injection or not take my evening injection.  I press “0” for an emergency to have the on-call doctor paged.

Then I wait.

About 15 minutes later, my phone rings.  It’s Amy, the other nurse from Dr. Carnovale’s office.  She’s younger and newer (I’m pretty sure I’m older than her).  She’s not nearly as chipper as Sarah, but she’s a lot more personable.  I like her a lot.  She’s warm and compassionate.  You can tell she really cares.  She says hello and then asks me what’s up.

I run her through the scenarios.  Do I go ahead in August and potentially waste $3K on medicine and have to stop in the middle?  Do I wait until June and see if the cyst resolves – and if it doesn’t wait until October to go through the next cycle.  Amy listens contently – to information that she likely already knows.  I finish my schpeal and say, “I just am having a really hard time deciding what to do. I just don’t know what to do.  What do you think I should do?”

There’s a moment of silence on the phone then Amy says, “Jessica, I don’t think you should wait.  I think you should go ahead with it this month.”

Finally, a straight answer from someone. 

I pause and then say, “Okay.  I’ll see you guys on Monday.”

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