Retrieval Day

Wednesday was Retrieval Day. To describe what happens on retrieval day, I will quote from The Couple's Guide to In Vitro Fertilization by Liza Charlesworth:

"A special syringe is inserted through (the) vagine and it reaches to her ovaries. Then, guided by ultrasound images, her RE gently sucks the mature eggs out of their follicles."

I quote because unlike Erin, I did have the benefits of Versed. I remember going into an examination room and changing into a gown. I remember my husband leaving to go do his thing, and returning to comment on the poor quality of magazines. I remember the anesthetist coming in and putting the IV in on the first try. (For this, I recommend insisting on a local anesthetic before they stick you.) I do not remember how I got into the operating room, but I do remember being there, and everyone saying hello and then the next thing I remember is that my mother and husband were there.
"What are you doing here?" I said, "You're not supposed to be in the operating room."
They both laughed, and the nurse laughed. The edges of the room were blurry, so I didn't feel any particular motivation to keep my eyes open.
"We're not in the operating room," my husband said. "It's over."
"She probably won't remember much of this either," said the nurse.
"So now's the time to admit anything you don't want her to remember," said my mother to my husband.
"Honey," he said, "I have a confession. I am having an affair. With our puppy."
My mother laughed. "You know that the shepherds in Sardinia used to have affairs with their goats."
That is when the doctor walked in.
"We are talking about having sex with goats," my husband said.
"Oh, well, now is the time, if you don't want your wife to remember," said the doctor, not skipping a beat.

Other Retrieval Side Effects:
--Some pain, but nothing terrible. Kind of like really bad cramps. I only took one Tylenol 3 and was then able to switch to extra-strength Tylenol.
--A profound craving for pineapple juice and mashed potatoes.
--A dream set in a combination gas station/Indian restaurant in which one of my husband's colleagues was paying me in hundreds for the cryopreservation of his embryos. He only had the first hundred because they were going through a divorce. (Is this the equivalent of Erin's Aaron Neville?)
--Craziness of the Stir Variety, brought on by my mother's panopticon-like enforcement of my doctor's directive that I be a "couch potato" for 24 hours after the procedure.

The puppy, barometer of my emotions, has started running around like crazy, jumping and nipping and failing to observe the established conventions of excretion. Or maybe he is trying to claim my husband for himself.