My vagina is a carnival grab-bag. Every time I go to the RE for a scan, he finds something new.

Last time there was “something cystic.” This morning, there was a fibroid. Who knows what he’ll see on Tuesday.

Fortunately, there were also eight follicles, including two that were right on pace. Apparently, Miss Right Ovary is more studious than her pal on the left; same number on both sides, but right’s completely beating out the left as far as size goes, which I suppose might be indicative of something, but do you see me not consulting Dr. Google? Good job, E. Good job.

This means the numbers game has begun, I suppose. I could wish that he’d found more than eight… but, hell. They aim for between eight and twelve good eggs, right? And he did say that he was having trouble seeing everything over on Miss Right. Plus, I’m telling myself it’s possible that some more follicles will pop up in the next few days. But again: I am not consulting Dr. Google. I am not. There’s a good girl, E! That’s right, keep it up.

I mean, I’m not aiming to be a total rock star in all this. I’ve seen one blog post where the gal wound up with 41 eggs, and that’s pretty ridiculous and good for her, but dude, something tells me I’d be better off just hoping to clear the double-digits and get a few nicely developed embryos out of this.

And right now I’m going to detour from my slightly organized train of thought to say that I am just all kinds of stupid right now. I’m not blaming the drugs, ’cause it doesn’t feel like drug-induced stupid. (Not that I’m really sure what that would be, not having looked it up. Good girl, E. Good girl!) I think I’m just balancing so many things that some of it’s beginning to wobble.

Take this morning’s monitoring appointment. R. came with me, and thank goodness he did, or my RE mighta carefully retracted the dildo-cam and suggested maybe I think about not passing along my faulty-brain genetics if this is really how it’s going to be.

Whilst he was digging, the RE said that part about finding a fibroid, which is all new to me. Never found one before. I don’t really know what to do with that news, but I think I saw once on the internet (Bad girl, bad!) that they’re not necessarily a problem.

“So, a fibroid, that’s just like a thing, right? Not like a thing I should worry about?” I said.

Yeah, that’s how I phrased it.

“Yes, it’s a thing,” my RE answered patiently. “As most ‘things’ generally are things.”

At least he didn’t laugh outright. And he did explain that he wasn’t worried about it but they’d watch it. (A thing to watch! Joy.)

And then he told us very clearly and effectively that I’d get a call this afternoon telling me the results of my morning blood test, the new Gonal-F dosage, and when my next appointment would be. And what did I say immediately after that?

“What’s my new Gonal-F dosage?”

Thank goodness R. stepped in. “They’re gonna call.”

Red in the face here. “Um, I really am listening to you,” I told the doctor, “I am.”

My RE shrugged. “It’s hard to take in information when you’re not wearing any clothes.”

True that.

Oh, and after the doctor spelled out all the sizes of the follicles and wrote it down for us, I looked at the piece of paper and asked, “So, does this mean I have eight ovaries?”

Good heavens, E. Yes, I meant to say follicles, and everybody gave me credit for having said the wrong word rather than being a complete idiot, but, y’know. By this point, I was about to call my university and ask them to send my doctor a copy of my transcript so he could see I’m not stupid all of the time.

Anyway. Eight ovaries follicles. My follicles ovaries hurt a little, especially Miss Right Side. Which is disconcerting, seeing as I have over a week of this to go. Target retrieval date is September 10, unless something weird happens. And it could. But I’m not looking.

Good job, E. Good job.