I was so sick that I had to call and ask if I could come have my bloodwork done later in the day, because I could not face the physically impossible task of dragging myself to the clinic during regular monitoring hours. I was so sick that when I got home from the clinic (after having spent $60 on cabs to get myself there and back) I crawled into bed and started shaking and couldn't stop, until my husband forced some Gatorade into me. I was so sick that we pushed our departure for the holiday to tomorrow morning instead of tonight, because I knew I couldn't handle three hours in the car today.
But the good news is that today's beta HCG was 669. I didn't even need a beta doubling calculator to know that was a good number (but FYI, it's a doubling time of 40 hours). Progesterone was "over 40," the nurse said. (I was lying in bed half-dazed in a tangle of sweaty sheets so I didn't inquire further. I actually checked my phone log later to make sure I hadn't hallucinated the call.) Bloodwork and FIRST! ULTRASOUND! on Monday morning.
Oh, and PS, as if the projectile vomiting wasn't enough, on my way out to the clinic this morning I slipped and fell down the stairs. Yes. Pregnant woman. Fell downstairs. It was, alas, not a graceful Scarlett O'Hara tumble, but an ungainly slip, landing with a thud on my ass/back/elbow. I felt foolish asking the nurse about it but to her credit she didn't even crack a smile, just reassured me that short of blunt force trauma to the abdomen a little fall wasn't going to dislodge anything.
OK, I have to go pass out now. I just didn't want to disappear for the holiday without updating. Will be out of town for the rest of the week but will definitely update on Monday after the u/s. Happy Thanksgiving, y'all.