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Now let us never speak of it again.

As we sat in the waiting room today before the IUI, my doctor lured us into a conference room, apologized for the clusterfuck that this cycle had become, and told me the IUI was on the house. He also gave us meds from the sample closet for our next round of IVF, free of charge.

I don't know what to make of this. I hope I said something grateful.

The upshot of this cycle is that it cost us only time and sanity. Because I am crass, I can admit that the failure seems to sting slightly less when the insult of losing money is removed.

It occurred to me to refuse, to say they should give them to someone who really can't afford the medication — I'm not exactly sure why I didn't, because I don't truly think we deserve any special compensation. I don't think my poor response to the protocol could have been predicted or averted.

Mostly I think I just didn't want to have to discuss it any further. I am worn the fuck out.

Paul, who yielded a sample this morning without turning a hair, joked with me while we waited, and sat steadfastly next to me while the IUI was done. ("Um, hey, sit near my head, not at the other end, okay?") The procedure itself was easier than it's been in the past. Veteran that I am, I instructed the nurse to bend the catheter "like a hockey stick," and it slid in easily once the speculum was wrenched open.

So it's done. I'm considering this cycle finished — I don't believe it can work. I've felt lighter all day, relieved that the stress I've been under is over. We won't go through another cycle until October at the earliest. See you in the penalty box.