Thursday morning, December 27, 10:00 a.m.: my quantitative beta. Leading into Thursday, I'd felt crampy for the whole week since the previous Thursday's transfer. Kept my mind and heart occupied with Christmas celebrations with lots of family. No signs one way or the other going into the blood draw.
Thursday afternoon, December 27, 2:00 p.m.: A call from my RE's office telling me the beta had come back POSITIVE! Wahoo! Beta was at 32.
Today is Saturday. The plan this morning was to get a repeat beta drawn here in NJ (where we are celebrating late Christmas with Matt's family). Got up, showered, had a little pink spotting (argh!). Put it out of my head and hopped into the car to drive to a Quest Diagnostics for my blood draw, only to find out that they don't do same-day results on Saturdays (which I absolutely need). So we go on an adventure to the new University Medical Center of Princeton at Plainsboro. They need a patient ID number that I don't have, and they call my RE's office, but because of the hour time difference, the office isn't open. Thankfully the registration lady called her supervisor and they got me in anyway. Quickest, least painful blood draw EVER! So things looked good for them to get the results and send them along to my RE's by noon, like the lab order directed them to.
This afternoon, went to see The Hobbit. Fretted the entire movie (nearly 3 hours!) about what sort of phone message I would have waiting for me after it was over - good or bad. Movie ends, I check my phone, no message. I go shopping for new running shoes, no phone call. I get home, no phone call.
I call my RE's office, and no one is there. I fret and fret, and then call the on-call pager number, under $50 penalty if they don't agree with me that it is urgent. The on-call person is my RE himself, which makes me feel even worse.
He calls me back, we figure out that the office never got the fax, he calls the hospital, and FINALLY, we have a number. 107. It's a good number. Half of me relaxes.
The other half is really really bummed to find out that I'm still spotting, and I don't know what to do about it. Wait and see, obviously. But I'd really like it to go away. I don't have a good track record with spotting, no matter how normal people say it is. And we've come so far, and it's been so hard, and it's taken so long. I don't know what to do if we lose this one. Especially so quickly.
I'm not freaking out, exactly. Fretting, yes. But mostly just shutting down. Wishing I could go to bed, even though it's only 7pm and we have friends coming over at 8. Wishing for easy answers and miracles.
Thursday afternoon, December 27, 2:00 p.m.: A call from my RE's office telling me the beta had come back POSITIVE! Wahoo! Beta was at 32.
Today is Saturday. The plan this morning was to get a repeat beta drawn here in NJ (where we are celebrating late Christmas with Matt's family). Got up, showered, had a little pink spotting (argh!). Put it out of my head and hopped into the car to drive to a Quest Diagnostics for my blood draw, only to find out that they don't do same-day results on Saturdays (which I absolutely need). So we go on an adventure to the new University Medical Center of Princeton at Plainsboro. They need a patient ID number that I don't have, and they call my RE's office, but because of the hour time difference, the office isn't open. Thankfully the registration lady called her supervisor and they got me in anyway. Quickest, least painful blood draw EVER! So things looked good for them to get the results and send them along to my RE's by noon, like the lab order directed them to.
This afternoon, went to see The Hobbit. Fretted the entire movie (nearly 3 hours!) about what sort of phone message I would have waiting for me after it was over - good or bad. Movie ends, I check my phone, no message. I go shopping for new running shoes, no phone call. I get home, no phone call.
I call my RE's office, and no one is there. I fret and fret, and then call the on-call pager number, under $50 penalty if they don't agree with me that it is urgent. The on-call person is my RE himself, which makes me feel even worse.
He calls me back, we figure out that the office never got the fax, he calls the hospital, and FINALLY, we have a number. 107. It's a good number. Half of me relaxes.
The other half is really really bummed to find out that I'm still spotting, and I don't know what to do about it. Wait and see, obviously. But I'd really like it to go away. I don't have a good track record with spotting, no matter how normal people say it is. And we've come so far, and it's been so hard, and it's taken so long. I don't know what to do if we lose this one. Especially so quickly.
I'm not freaking out, exactly. Fretting, yes. But mostly just shutting down. Wishing I could go to bed, even though it's only 7pm and we have friends coming over at 8. Wishing for easy answers and miracles.
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