the good. the bad. the hideously ugly.

the good.
ahhhhhh. nyc. it felt good to be back. home again. everything was familiar, comforting, and just as I left it (with the exception of a new and underdesigned high rise on every other street corner.) even staying in the heart of times square (not my choice) was totally fine. I was thrilled to be stopped on 57th street by a flustered tourist "excuse me. where is the bloomingdales?" after leaving gramercy and moving deep into the heart of suburbia, I was still a "new yorker."

that night b and I had a fantastic date. we started out at the tiny jazz bar where we had our very first date. sadly it was no longer "our spot." what had once been dark and dingy and full of character was now all shiny and tidy. there was no jazz trio and the cocktails cost a fortune. we reminisced about our first encounter. it's funny. neither of us recall talking about my egg quality or the threat of sperm fragmentation. my, my. how our relationship has evolved.

the bad.
the next morning I experienced the marathon blood draw. after approving the spelling of my long, complicated, hyphenated name and DOB on the small paper label, the nurse proceeded to print out at least a dozen more. she then lined up all the empty vials before draining my body entirely of blood. it was freaky to watch. the whole thing made me woozy.

that evening we met up with a bunch of friends at a favorite "old school" bar. it was great to see so many familiar faces and I felt so happy. I chatted with everyone more this one night than I did my entire wedding weekend. these were good friends. friends with a long history. it was good to be back home. (and it didn't really matter that b's friend was a spitting image of my ex - an old boyfriend that used to be a part of this group.)

the hideously ugly.
7 am. the phone rings. "there has been accident in parking garage. a pipe (turns out to be CONCRETE) fell on car." fuck. I needed to give the attendant permission to replace some glass. I was assured the job would be finished later that day. yeah, right. I got dressed and raced off to my dreaded co-culture appointment. I took the handful of advil prescribed for pain and 2 benadryl to calm my nerves. I had no luck in tracking down any valium and I needed a little extra something. the pills didn't make me relaxed, they made me stupid!

on the examination table I struggled with my crossword.
2 down.
a four letter word.
"letterman's rival." duh! I couldn't figure it out. my brain had disintegrated.

the co-culture sucked. and hurt! the tools they used caused major cramping and the scraping of my uterus was no picnic. "I'm going to try to be as gentle as possible." yikes! the pain literally took my breath away. yes, it didn't last very long but I actually felt it in my chest. I winced and felt sick to my stomach for those few moments. when you are in pain you really have no sense of time.

the parking garage vs. subaru drama only escalated as the day went on (and will no doubt continue for some time.) it involved numerous attendant lies, bouts of screaming, 2 separate visits from the NYPD, and ultimately, a missing car with no rear window and a collection of new scrapes and dents. then you add annoyed insurance agents, estimates, deductibles, a "subaru-qualified" repair shop, and a rental car, and you get a guaranteed emotional breakdown. 12 hours of total hell. I was looking for all the hidden cameras. alan funt or possibly ashton kutcher. it must be. it had to be! "smile, you're on candid camera." this was all too fucking unbelievable.

incredibly unbelievable until I realized that my idiotic IVF nurse neglected to call in half of my meds. the medication required to start my cycle today! how could this happen?! after frantic phone calls to the pharmacy and to my RE (and a few tears and $270 on my amex) we got things "sorted out."

tonight. sunday, 18 november 07, 7 pm, we start this IVF thing all over again. oh boy.