Or, Are you sure those were my ovaries you were wanding?
Dr. FYC gave a tilt of his statuesque head and said, firmly, "Breathe."
I smiled weakly, just for show, and took an audible yoga breath--slow, through the nose--then exhaled to a count of five. I closed my eyes and waited a moment, then looked up at the screen.
And I saw them.
Lots of dots.
Twenty dots, to be exact. Nine on the left, eleven on the right. Fourteen were worth measuring, all around ten millimeters. Last time it was six. We hoped for eight or nine with the new protocol.
Next E2 and ultrasound Friday, where my new personal deity expects to see me "nearly ready for trigger."
Is this really me--poor-responder me--with twenty follicles?
I know I saw it, but I don't believe it.