Today was the last procedure Dr. X wanted me to have prior to us beginning hormone injections and artificial insemination: a Hysterosalpingogram (HSG). This is a test where a radiologist injects a dye through your cervix and into your uterine cavity. It is performed to determine female fertility potential, i.e. whether the fallopian tubes are open or blocked. The dye travels through the uterus, into the fallopian tubes, spilling into the abdominal cavity. Obviously, a blockage will prevent the dye from passing and this problem will be detected by the radiologist using an X-ray machine.
I knew it wasn't a good sign when my diet coke exploded all over me in the car on our way to the hospital. And I mean, exploded everywhere. My sweatshirt and pants were soaked. I was already really nervous (as I always am prior to any of these type procedures), and the wet clothes did not help matters one bit. As usual, I have to give my man props for knowing exactly what to do in this situation. As I sat crying in the passenger seat and only moments away from a nervous breakdown, he did the three things that he knows will bring me back: He held my hand, calmly repeated sweet words of reassurance, and otherwise kept quiet and let me do my thing. Attempts to argue with or even reason me back down make me more agitatied. Others don't realize this until its too late, and some continue with this strategy despite knowing it will fail. Not Tom. Its almost like he instinctively knows these things. I love that about him. In the heat of the moment during my emotional breakdowns, I am unable to recognize the genious in his manner. But afterward, I am always super impressed by his ability to talk me down off the ledge.
So, by the time we actually arrived at the hospital I had stopped crying and regained composure. We checked into radiology and sat down to wait. Just moments later I was called back to change into a hospital gown and wait in another area for my room to open up. As I sat there, all alone, I became more and more nervous. Thoughts and questions were flying through my head such as: I know this shit is going to be painful, but just how painful? Did I forget to shave my legs? Oh shit, of course I did...Did I put this hospital gown on right? Was I supposed to leave the opening in the front or the back?...How will Oprah get out of bed every morning without having an audiance full of drueling, idiotic, women to preach to?...What if they find a blockage in my tubes? Jesus, what will we do then?...Which one of those Bush twins was the one arrested for underage drinking?...And so on, and so forth...
Finally, a nice lady named Rita came to get me for the procedure. She took me into the X-ray room. There was a large X-ray machine hanging over a large stainless steel table with stirrups at the end. Oh, goody goody. I stepped up on the footstool and laid down on the table. Rita told me to scoot down, scoot down some more, and scoot down even more. In fact, I thought she was going to scoot me right off the table.
She was busy trying to ready the room for the Doctor, who was late. Judging from the fuss she was making, he was a bit of a perfectionist. She kept telling me how this particular Doctor "made her nervous" and "would get on her" if things weren't exactly to his specifications. The more she rushed to get things ready, the more my blood pressure went up.
Rita left the room to call and see if the doctor was on his way. There is something inherently initmidating about a hospital, and this effect grows when you are left alone in the exam room. I laid there looking up at the big machine, my knees pointing directly to God, and felt nothing but panic. Rita came back in the room to find me silently crying. As tears poured down the sides of my face, I couldn't decide why I was crying, but I knew I couldn't stop.
Poor Rita forgot all about the demanding Doctor and started comforting me. She told me success stories, people who had the same procedure and became pregnant almost instantly. She held my hand and brought me tissues. She asked me about my family and my interests. She destracted me from my sadness, my fear, and myself. Rita got me through. Today, Rita acted as my guardian angel. Guess I should have gotten her last name.
So, when the Doctor finally flew through the doors, he got right down to business. I won't go into detail about the procedure. I will say it was painful. It was akward and invasive. But it wasn't unbearable. I am glad its over, and I hope I never have to have it done again...
Despite the emotional rollercoaster and pain of today, I'm glad we did it. Mostly because we got good news ~ my tubes look good! There were no obvious blockages or problem areas. So, Tom and I have the green light to start hormone injections whenever we are ready (aka finacially able).
Final Thought: This child better be worth all this damn trouble. He/she better not grow up to be a disrespectful little shit like most of the kids I see in court, or grow up and wear one of those gross earring things that stretch a large gaping hole into their body. Or turn out to be a democrat (don't worry Laurina, I'm just kidding) :)
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