Oh.

Well, I had the appointment and I still don't smoke. That's about where I'm at.

The new doc went over my records from the old crappy doc and proved that, yes, the old doc was indeed crappy. For starters, she said she's not even sure I have PCOS. Of course, PCOS is a strange thing and weird to diagnose. But, my diagnosis was based on less investigation than the new doc would accept. So, I'm up for some blood tests. They will be going over 12 points - some hormonal, some insulin related, some I'm not even sure about. But I remember that her script had 12 bullets on it.

Danny is up for a little test of his own. Because this doc wants to cover all of our bases and start in the least invasive manner, Danny will be having a semen analysis. He took it very well when I told him about it, making lots of dorky jokes. Actually, he was so great about the whole thing! I came home from the appointment feeling pretty lousy and he was cuddly & supportive & sweet & funny. Just what I needed. Lucky man - he gets his jollies while I get the speculum. Again.

The doc was happy to hear about WW and said to keep that up. She seemed doubtful about my ability to quit smoking cold turkey. She was visibly shocked to hear that I'd been prescribed Glucophage by the old crappy doc without any testing first. If it turns out that I am insulin resistant and my blood levels show I can handle it, that will be the med we'll try first. If I'm not insulin resistant, then she wouldn't even recommend it. As for Clomid, she suggested we try it eventually.

Eventually. As in not today. I've been psyching myself up for today as the beginning of the whole deal and it turns out the beginning will take a lot longer than I thought. In my head, quitting smoking and working on weight loss were the beginning. But that's only part of it.

A scary thing she told me was that the whole time I haven't been having periods I should have been taking something to clean things out every couple of months. The build-up sitting there for so long screws up hormone levels and increases the chances for uterine cancer. Not that I'm freaking that I have cancer - but another test later on down the line will set that straight. I'll be having an endometrial biopsy, which sounds like a blast.

I know this isn't exactly the end of the world, but it got me so friggin down! I'm sure it's the combination of wrong-headed expectations & nicotine withdrawal, but I've become uber emotional. I cried on my way home from the appointment. Cried as I told Danny about it. Snapped at someone this morning (she deserved it, and the lecture I gave afterward). Smiled my way through my boss's baby shower. Cried again when my boss asked me how the appointment went. I'm not a crybaby, really! And the last thing I'd like to do is get all boo-hoo-hooey at work. I guess I'm human, oh well. I had another good cry when I got home tonight and saw the pamphlet, 'Understanding your fertility problems,'sitting on my coffee table like it belonged there or something! The cheesy 80's couple on the cover and the illustration of a semen sample inside... jeepers. It's written at about a 4th grade reading level, so it was actually kind of handy for the rate at which my brain is processing information lately. But depressing.

My next appointment is right around Halloween. We'll be reviewing our delightful test results. In the meantime, keep on truckin' with the WW. No smoking. Get on prenatal vitamins. Ok to still drink coffee - phew. Sounds like I'll need it.