I arrived just as Grace came out to fetch the appointment before me. She had a student with her, and the woman before me initially agreed to having the student in the room, but quickly changed her mind when she found out the student was male. I spent the next 20 minutes feeling sorry for the med student, since now he'd be stuck in my appointment with nothing less traumatic to buffer against it. Med school is tough.
When the appointment came Grace immediately launched into her plan for next cycle, which included more radical changes to the drugs. No more lupron, switch to menapure for the stims, and use antagon to prevent early ovulation. She seemed upbeat considering the dismal failure that was this past cycle. It turns out that she had more info on those three embryos that didn't make it to transfer. They were highly fragmented and quit dividing.
And here's where the Jedi mind tricks come in. Going in, I was pretty sure that Cornell was the obvious next step, now I'm not so sure. When we brought up our concerns about RSC she agreed that these were valid concerns, but made all sorts of reasonable points about how every place has better people and worse people. Sure, we could go to Cornell, but they treat famous people a lot better than random folks off the street, and might do things to protect their statistics. It all sounded reasonable and rational, and at the end, I wasn't sure if it was Grace using Jedi mind trick on me or the clever folks at Cornell. Just now I'm not sure what the best plan is. All I know is that if Spiffy New Job sends me to the conference in DC I'll need to wait another month lest I be in DC the week I'm supposed to be stimming. It wouldn't do to start the cycle and then say, 'oops, can't take that business trip after all, it interferes with my thrice weekly intimate encounter with an ultrasound wand."
One thing Grace is clear on though. If the change in meds doesn't help with the fragmentation, she doesn't think this is going to work for us. She did not put it quite that bluntly, but it was clearly what she meant. It's not a happy thing to be facing. I was hoping that if I just stuck myself with enough needles and spent enough money this would work out for us. Now we're getting hints that maybe it won't. I'm not ready to give up on my eggs, but it's still... Its there, that ugly, terrible thought, lurking in the corner like the huge unmentionable that we so much want to ignore as impossible as that is to do.