I live about 1.5 hours from San Francisco, where IVF doctors and medical resources are abundant. But since insurance has nothing to do with my options I figured it’s best to start local, so I called the ONE fertility doctor in my city and made an appointment for this afternoon.
This doc gets mixed reviews – great statistics, recommended by Kaiser, though the customers on Yelp tell of a perfectly competent doctor with a raging bitchy attitude. Oh boy! Baby-making impairment is shameful and embarrassing as it is, and poor bedside manner might only salt the wound. But so far Ryan is the one with the less-than-desirable test results open for comment, so I’d best quit worrying about my own feelings. Worst case scenario this will be a total nightmare and we’ll try another clinic further from home.
Today at 3 I go in for a vaginal ultrasound and detailed run-down of treatment, costs, recommendations and risks. I’ve assured Ryan’s on-the-fence-about-IVF nerves that this is an informational meeting, we are going to gather all the facts before we make any big decisions. We don’t know enough yet to do anything drastic one way or another.
And I’m assuring my own get-ready-for-some-harsh-truths nerves that I don’t need a doctor to baby me, just give me the facts, this is business, don’t be too sensitive. Even if she tells me “There’s nothing wrong with you, just lose some weight” as she told one angry Yelper lol…
At least I’ve been warned! 🙂