Day 3, Visit 1. I was bled and had a brief tryst with the ultrasound wand. I have had plenty of such affairs, but I let the nice nurse explain it to me all the same. They love to caution that it may be uncomfortable, but I don't think they realize that they are crying wolf. The same bland warning was issued before the HSG, which turned out not to be a tad uncomfortable, but, instead, excruciatingly painful and, well, a Carrie-esque bloodbath. The ultrasound is, by comparison, delightful. I think my reputation as a delicate flower is being destroyed by reproductive endocrinology.
My RE informed me merrily that my lady parts are stunning, and scheduled the appointment for KB and me to learn to throw knives next week. He is not looking forward to it, and thinks I'm out of my mind for suggesting he will probably secretly like it; just wait until I start shooting up with hormonal heroin in a couple of weeks and the mood swings kick in. I suspect his knife throwing will become olympic in both skill and zeal.