Yesterday I had an appointment with an oral maxillofacial surgeon regarding the removal of my wisdom teeth. My dentist referred me sometime last year but I kept putting it off, partly because I didn’t want to do it, and partly because I kept thinking… “well, what if I get pregnant”. You know how that goes.
I decided I may as well go to the consultation appointment, and book the surgery as I could always cancel or move it if needed. Maybe it would be a kick in the pants for Murphy to finally implement his law on me. Because that’s worked out in the past (read: sarcasm) I’ve booked vacations, work trips, family functions all with the thought “what if” in the back of my mind, all to no avail. I figure nothing lost if I just live my life as if I’m not stuck in an unending hamster wheel of infertility.
As I checked in with the reception staff, I was given a clipboard and some paperwork to fill out (only 3 pages? Amateurs). It mostly had to do with my physical health, so of course it asked what medications I was on, if I was actively being treated by a physician, and if I was or could possibly be pregnant. Sometimes when I encounter situations like this, I edit my information on a need to know basis (for example, my regular dentist does not need to know my sordid list of medications just to clean my teeth). This time, I went whole hog and laid it all out there.
I was taken back into a consult room where the doctor came in to discuss the procedure with me. As he browsed my chart, he noted “Lupron…diabetes?..No…” I stopped him and explained I was undergoing infertility treatments, so obviously if it were to be sucessful I would not be going ahead with the surgery. He nodded, understandingly, and didn’t miss a beat. He kept going, explaining the process, advising that they would work around whatever my schedule would be. He delicately asked if I knew my timeline, and I told him I would know by the end of this month what was going to be happening (for this cycle at least).
I then went to speak to billing, as they will preapprove the surgery through my insurance. She asked if I wanted to book an appointment right then and there or wait to see what my insurance would cover. I hummed and hawed for a minute, not caring too much about the insurance, but rather my next FET schedule timing should this one not work. In the end I couldn’t figure quickly enough and it does sort of depend on when we transfer, if it fails, when my next period would start, ect. Not to mention the fact that my boss probably won’t be thrilled to hear upon my return from Hawaii in mid January I’ll need to take more time off for this. I took an appointment on Jan. 29 and I’ll deal with the fallout later if needed.
I didn’t want to tell my boss yet about the surgery because if I do end up getting pregnant I’ll be cancelling and then it will be a moot point. Speaking of my boss, I got a note from my RE’s office for being away unexpectedly all day last Friday, when I had my cysts aspirated. It was extremely vague, it just said my name, that I had an appointment with the clinic (didn’t say what clinic just “clinic”), the date, that it was from Alberta Health Services at Royal Alexandra hospital and along the side it listed the doctors names. If she really wanted she could google them and easily figure out what it is that I am being treated for. I didn’t need to get her a doctors note but I didn’t want to seem like a flake since we were in the midst of a snow storm, and I am not one to call off work on a whim.
Part of me hopes she googled it so that she has a better idea of what I’m doing. The passive aggressive side of me thinks it would be easiest that way, not having to have an actual conversation with her. If she figured it out so be it. I’m still not going to bring it up with her if I don’t have to (and so far I see no reason to). It seems as though fate is starting to force my hand in making decisions, and starting to crack the door open on my infertility. If that’s the case, let’s just kick the door open and get me pregnant shall we?