Wedensday was not a good day.
I went in to get a baseline ultrasound and estrogen #’s. I should be starting stims tomorrow.
I left furious. Upset.
The calendar provided to me by my clinic was wrong. Wrong for the past 6 weeks wrong.
Wrong as I’ve been shooting myself up with Lupron and Ganirelx wrong.
Wrong as I wasted all those medications and I wasted $100+ in copays and commuting costs wrong.
They are closing their lab early May, and forgot to notify staff, or my nurse, or me? Wrong.
It’s a pretty amateur move for the top clinic not only in NYC but in the entire state of NY.
There were hours of texting my husband, e-mails to the doctor, and telephone calls to both. Much of this happened as I was walking through Macy’s Herald Square (makeup halls of happiness, dammit). At some point, I found myself sitting on a chair in the ladies restroom (of Macy’s) with my calendar open and going “NONE OF THESE NEW DATES WORK AT ALL.” Queue the tears.
They handled it pretty casually, pushing us back weeks, until my husband and I firmly explained an important issue for us: we booked a few months of commitments and appointments (including a work conference for him and an extended family reunion trip where people are flying in from all over the country) around the “concrete” cycle dates they provided to us.
Since then we have had multiple, difficult, conversations with the head honcho doctor. “It’s very very early in our relationship to lose confidence in you? Does the lab shut down often? Are you always this disorganized?”
The doctor worked overnight (with the lab director and others) to figure out a new calendar that fit within our schedule and theirs. He apologized. He assured us a miscommunication would not happen again.
It is still not ideal, time wise for us.
In reality, I think this was a fluke. This clinic has a stellar reputation. The doctor is unparalleled. This is just our luck.
And I am back on lupron. Motherfuck.