I am now officially a patient of Braverman Reproductive Immunology. Last week, I sent an email to my local clinic telling them I would not be proceeding with my planned IVF. I felt legit sad writing this email, as I’ve become quite attached to everyone there. They are a class act — kind, compassionate and just generally awesome. But alas, it is time to start a new chapter.
That new chapter begins next week. Bright and early Wednesday morning I’ll head to Braverman’s NYC office to have blood drawn for immune testing. 15 vials of blood, to be exact. I asked. The lab rep was like, “Wellll, I usually don’t like to tell people this ahead of time, but…”
Tim is getting three vials drawn, by the way. A mere three.
After bloodwork, I will meet with the surgeon. He’s going to check out the blood flow to my uterus using a doppler ultrasound. I told my boss about this today and she was all, “Oooh, will it be like a weather map?” I don’t know the answer to that, but I sure hope so. Uterine weather map! Just what every gal’s always wanted. Anyway, apparently this doppler ultrasound can help detect endometriosis. Based on that and the rest of the examination, he’ll assess whether I need surgery — if I do, I’ll get it the next day. Unless he’s like, “Hey girl, you do not need surgery. You have the prettiest uterine blood flow I’ve ever seen,” I think I’m going to go ahead with it. I’d really like to know beyond a shadow of a doubt if I have endometriosis.
After surgery, if it ends up happening, Tim and I will stay in a hotel for a couple of nights while I recover. Staying in a hotel near New York isn’t cheap, so we’re pretending it’s a mini vacation. This “romantic getaway” will be our birthday present to each other this year (we both have birthdays in the summer). Surgical vacations, guys. They’re all the rage! Seriously, though, I’m kind of looking forward to a few quiet nights in a hotel, even though I’ll likely be in pain and doped up on opiates. I’ve clearly lost my mind.
That’s about all I got. I won’t actually meet Dr. Braverman this visit (or maybe never, as we will likely get our immune testing results over Skype), so that’s kind of a bummer. If you could send good thoughts my way on Thursday, the day of surgery, I will love you forever. Well, ok, I already love you forever, but I promise to love you forever-er.