Door #2: E2, Brute?

Because it has occurred to me that not all of you share my deep and abiding love for test results, today I offer you two separate posts. We here at Flotsam aim to please, and so allow me to present Door #1—a post about sundry non-reproductive topics, and Door #2—a post devoted entirely to Friday’s rather dramatic visit to Dr. Doctor.

Day 3 results:
FSH: 5.57
LH: 9.81
E2: 46.7
17OHP: 131
Testosterone: A burly 79. A result that should come with a tool belt.

Friday, with diagnostic codes submitted to my insurance company, Dr. Doctor made it official: I am infertile. I will not be able to get pregnant without medical intervention. The final verdict is PCOS with insulin resistance–my ovaries are swimming with so many immature follicles that Dr. Doctor never bothered to count them all. So many, in fact, that she will not let me go straight to injectables, due to the risk of high-order multiples. Her hope is that Metformin and Letrazole IUIs will work, as I have managed to get pregnant before.
The last time I got pregnant was also the last time I ovulated—November of 2004.*

Dr. Doctor and I continue to be besotted with one another–she took the liberty of photocopying all of my lab reports for me because she knows I like to “see the numbers.” There was much “Well what do you think, Doctor?” and “Oh Alexa, you know more about this than I do!
Things we love:
1. The extended-release version of Metformin
2. IUIs
3. Blood tests
4. Each other
Things we hate:
1. Clomid
2. Sextuplets
3. Ovarian cysts
An attractive and fearsomely youthful medical student was there for the appointment as well, taking furious notes throughout.
The good news was the Nearly’s sperm analysis. Concentration was 117 million per ml., 234 million total.
His total motile: 100.6 million.
The Nearly is quite insufferably pleased with himself.
His viability was only 40%, but with 100 million motile, who cares? Morphology was 11% normal, which confused me, as Dr. Doctor was very impressed with that number and I thought it wasn’t high enough. But again, even a mere 11% of a gazillion is…a lot.

My thrombophilia panel was less cheering. Generally with multiple miscarriages they look for things that give one a greater tendency to form clots. Apparently, on the contrary, my blood takes so long to clot that I would be an unattractive surgical patient—they don’t like you to bleed out on the table:
Prothombin Time—Normal: 8.7-11.5 seconds. My result: 18.3 seconds.
APTT—Normal: 22-36 seconds. My result: 66 seconds.
INR—1.8
It makes this seem eerily prescient, doesn’t it?
I have to admit, I am flummoxed by these results. I assume they could have something to do with my miscarriages, but I cannot for the life of me figure out what. If any of you are hematologists, feel free to enlighten me.
I could either be missing a clotting factor or I could produce some sort of antibody to one of my clotting factors. They took more blood for a fancy mixing test {they mix my blood with different things and see what it does—it sounds like such fun I offered to do it at home, but Dr. Doctor nixed that idea} and I will probably end up seeing a hematologist. One possibility is that something is wrong with my liver, so they are running my liver enzymes. I cannot start my Metformin until those come back next week.

In case my liver was not getting enough exercise, and had become flabby with disuse, I went straight out after my appointment to meet my dear cousin for a drink.

*For those of you just joining us, the last time I got pregnant I was on the minipill, which suppressed my dysfunctional ovaries enough to allow me to ovulate, but not enough to keep the Nearly from knocking me up.
Yes. I got pregnant *because of* birth-control pills.