So I finally decided to take Kone to the rezzy, and to hell with ORM. We’re talking priorities here. Of course, I used the time while walking through the woods to write in my mind a vitriolic blog post about ORM, in which I pointed out that not calling when they say they will is NOT ACCEPTABLE because we are a bunch of crazy hormonal bitches out here who have our life’s savings riding on this (for me, $60K at last count) and we COUNT DOWN THE FUCKING HOURS until we get these phone calls.
I worked myself into quite a state, I tell you. Weepy and enraged, which is not a good combination. I decided that I would call ORM first thing in the morning, and oh yes, they would feel my wrath.
As we were driving home, it occurred to me that it would be best if we just went home and didn’t go anywhere else for the day, because if anyone messed with me, I would snap their fucking head off like a twig. A. TWIG. There were some punk-ass kids skateboarding in the road (the road!) and lucky for them they moved out of my way, because I would have MOWED THEM DOWN. No hesitation either.
Of course, as soon as I got within cell phone distance, I checked to see if I had messages, and lo and behold, a message. From the embryologist at ORM, telling me that I had three embies that were still growing, and were in the “early blastocyst” stage. Dafuq? What does THAT mean? I mean they’re not blasts, which is where we want them to be, but they’re not down for the count, but what does that really mean? I was still seething, because while I appreciated the message, I was upset that I couldn’t grill Anya, Embryologist, on the fatness and happiness of my embies. How did they look? Did they look better than the 4 embies I had last time at day 5 that got my hopes up only to crush them like so much flotsam on the dumptruck of fate?
(As a random aside, why the HELL does Apple make such shitty power cords for their laptops? I thought the last one was bad – this one for my new laptop, just purchased on Friday because I was tired of sinking money into the old one, is WORSE. I kid you not. Fucking worse.)
Anyway. As I continued to rage, Anya called. So I got to ask my questions, and she couldn’t really say if they were better than last time, but that early blasts were better than morulas, and they have about a 50/50 chance at this point. And she said they’d call tomorrow, “and don’t stress if we don’t call until the afternoon, it doesn’t mean anything.”
Me: Oh, except you know like everyone else I’ll assume that’s bad news and you guys just don’t want to call me and it’ll be miserable and horrible.
Anya: I know, I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t think that.
Oh but I will.
Narwhal Watch 2015 continues.