Okay first - we're going to tell a story to hopefully cause laughter... probably will also cause horror, but laughter as well.
My geriatric cat Belle (she was 18 or so) died about a week or so ago at my mother's house. This prompted a crying phone call from my mom who kept saying "I don't know why I'm crying she was your cat." I said of course "it was her time to go." Belle had been having seizures periodically, made an "umph" noise whenever she got off her chair, and was still "happy" whenever anyone sat next to her in her chair. She'd pet you with her paws. My mom spent the last two years walking past Belle and periodically saying "Belle are you alive?" Then Lola would come bounding wherever Belle was and wake Belle up with a hiss and swat. She was a good swatter keeping all of the dogs in line.
So Belle died. My mom being the independent sort rather than the ask the neighbor to dig a grave for Belle, chose to dig it herself. My mom has asthma. She called me to ask how deep to dig the hole. I said at least 2 feet. Well by the time Mom had dug the hole - Belle was a bit stiff... so she buried Belle standing up. I was a bit horrified. Apparently she pooped out while digging and didn't get the hole wide enough. I told her it'd be okay and we'd rebury Belle when we came to visit. A few days later we get another panicked phone call - tears of course. Belle had been pushed up out of her grave by the woodchucks. Or as D calls them "furry little bas.tards". D suggested reburying Belle and putting some dirty cat litter around and in the grave as they apparently do not like the smell of ammonia. Whatever.
My mom somehow talks to someone and they suggest mixing ammonia and mothballs and throwing down the holes. Again please remember my Mom has asthma... she does this. Mixing it in the house then running to the hole and throwing it down there with an odor coming out of her container. She does and apparently almost immediately 2 woodchucks pop out. Stunned, drunk, overcome by the fumes, whatever. My mom conks them on the head. She then calls D and I... she talks to D of course. D can't stop laughing. Because truly this is only something my mother would do. Most people don't get these types of phone calls... only we do!
Now since conking 2 woodchucks truthfully is not even a dent in the population at my mother's house and land... don't feel sorry for the poor woodchucks... feel sorry for poor Belle who once we go down there next week will be finally given a proper burial where hopefully the woodchucks will leave her poor departed body alone. At least a girl can hope.
Now on to the lab results... it was 6 at 14 dpo. Yes 6. I can't get a straight "negative" to save my life. The RE's office is calling this "a very low positive" Imagine a wide eyed innocent voice blinking at you a few times... yep I got that nurse. I said - yeah yeah yeah I knew the results I had it drawn at 2 a.m and picked them up on my way out of work... so what's the plan. Cut to the chase please. So they would like me to repeat the beta in an even amount of days (not Sunday) (though I could) and continue the PIO until then. Fine... whatever. I'm rolliing my eyes at this moment aren't you? Seriously 6!!!
So this is most likely NOT going to work out... and since I KNOW what my lining was at time of trigger am not surprised at this result at all. On the upside the PIO works fabulously and well I still don't have any complaints about it - no knots on my bum, no bruising (and for me that says D's doing a good job), and no pain at the injection sites. However I did get a tetanus/pertussis booster now that hurts a LOT. So I'm going to go rub my arm... and in D's words they apparently read my chart - as last time I had a low beta of 5 I think they said - stop the progesterone and then 3 days later the beta was 25 and I of course started bleeding and well then we all know how that went... I believe that was number 7. So we shall see. I'm off to nap some more before work. The RE's office rudely interrupted my sleep. Don't they know I work nights?