This isn’t just a spoke in my menstrual cycle.*
Alternatively titled: A Post Brought To You Courtesy of Films of the 80’s
Yesterday I left work early for an appointment. I was offered a stunning haute couture gown to wear, complete with ties up the back that conveniently let my ass hang out for all to see. It was offset by a thick white robe of vintage style and a pair of thick woollen socks that I twigged only while changing into said Parisian fashion that I had put on inside out.
That’s right. I had some time booked with a paper sheet, some stirrups, and a woman holding probing equipment. I felt like rubbing my hands and asking when we all got our freak on.
They asked Alastair to wait in the waiting room and not be in the room, and so we both shrugged and he availed himself of the hospitals crap coffee while I went into the room. The technician sat me down, patted my knee, and looked at me with an expression of such sadness and sympathy I was immediately reminded of the nurse in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (the image was helped by the fact that the rack on the technician was impossible to miss).
“I’m afraid this ultrasound is a little different, my dear,” she said.
“Why, are you using sonar equipment? My uterus that big these days?”
“What?”
“What?”
“I mean, unlike the ultrasounds you had when you were pregnant, I’m afraid this ultrasound is internal. I will need to investigate your lady bits.”
“Oh please,” I said laughing and whipping my gown off. “I’m an IVF veteran. Half of Southern England has driven an ultrasound probe up my crotch.”
“Oh,” she said, startled. “Oh. That was why we asked your partner to wait outside, we know most women feel this is delicate and embarrassing.”
“We passed that hurdle a long time ago,” I replied grinning. “He’s seen more of my bits than I have.”
“I see! OK, well that’s why I came in to do this exam, instead of the other doctor, Doctor Andrews, who is a man.”
Hey, how come Andrew gets to get up? If he gets up, we’ll all get up, it’ll be anarchy! flew through my mind.
She went about readying things using, I noticed, obscene amounts of KY on the wand. I mean, come on – I know I can get a little dry in there, but it’s not like trying to ease the Titanic into a shoebox or anything. She kept pouring the goo on and all I could hear was Venkman saying “Someone blows their nose and you want to keep it?”
“You’ve had a C-section, haven’t you? I can tell by looking at the uterine scar on the inside of your womb,” she said while manipulating the ultrasound wand inside of my Dale Beaverman.
And if only I had a quarter for every time I’ve heard that.
Unlike my previous internal ultrasounds (which included things like me crying in hormonal puddles, me silently selling the fragmented parts of my soul to Satan, and me hoping I wasn’t going to fart while they were probing me), this time she had to jockey that bad boy around. And let me just follow it up with this – I’m never going to look at my rabbit the same way again. Because unlike previous exams where they simply count follicles, it cramps like a mother when they do other kinds of internal exams.
She twisted and turned the probe. “I’m just going to have to press on your tummy, I’m afraid,” she said. “I can’t find your ovary.” Right. Just call me Mr. Poppin’ Fresh.
“Yeah, I hate it when the little bastards hide,” I replied through my teeth. She jammed and twisted the probe and used her other hand on my stomach and unlike Mr. Poppin’ Fresh I didn’t feel even a little bit like giggling.
“Oh there it is!” she laughed a tinkly laugh. It fit right in with the stars I was seeing. “I’m just going to pin it to your pelvic wall with the wand in order to measure it.”
Breathe deep. Breathe deep. Breathe deep. Ignore the pain. Breathe deep.
She typed in on the ultrasound computer with the previous stomach manipulating hand. “Oh dear, I spelled ‘right ovary’ wrong, aren’t I a silly thing?”
Right, I thought. I will buy you a fucking Speak ‘n Spell, just please for the love of God stop pushing on that.
She concluded the exam and pulled the wand out, leaving an oozy mess on the paper below me that made me wonder if the giant racing snail from Neverending Story had paid me a visit.
At the end, it transpired that my girly bits are ok. My hormones have changed and thus I am lining up for someone to scrape my uterus (Don’t listen to him, he just wants to scrape our faces off!) and then I will be fitted with a Mirena coil, although I do need to talk about the EDS with my nice doctor. I am genuinely pleased, that’s the menstrual cycles and breakthrough bleeding sorted. That said, my bladder and kidney bits aren’t sorted yet and so I will be going through more tests on those in February.
Brilliant.
Fun times had by all.
-S.
* Title a quote from this 80’s classic.
I’ve not had IVF, but I swear, I’ve had enough internal ultrasounds to last me a lifetime (I suspect I’ll be having more probing soonish, but um, lalalaalaaa). The poking and the twisting and ugh.
My worst one was measuring my cervix when I was 24 weeks pregnant, to rule out prem labour. The guy who’d done all of my ultrasounds to that point, had never measured a cervix, so I got to lay there like a plastic doll (one who got to squeak in pain), while he and his boss poked and prodded and taught everyone else in the room how to do it.
Not my finest moment I don’t think.
Gawd, I had a pelvic ultrasound yesterday too. Rock on!
Before I met my current OB/GYN, my visits to the doctor were like Groundhog Day. For me, it was the same thing over and over, but for everyone else it was all new. It’s like they had no idea how to read my medical records (or that they should).
Glad to hear nothing’s wrong with you (at least on that front).
I got the pelvic ultrasound on Wednesday. :( They still don’t know what’s wrong with me. Greeeeaat.
I love Heathers! One of my all time fave quotes is from that movie – “You want to fuck with the eagles, you have to learn to fly.” I also tend to say “Greetings and salutations” to people when I first meet them.
I’m glad your girly bits are okay!
My health providers do a pelvic ultrasound early in pregnancy, mostly to confirm that you are, in fact, pregnant. It’s uncomfortable enough just for quick things; I can’t imagine how uncomfortable it would be twisted and shoved.
You poor lady. Glad you’re done with those for a while, though!
At mine today, I had 20 follies between 15-18 mm. Plus a handful of 11mm follies, which the technician degraded by calling them “too small to matter.” Through my gritted teeth and engorged pain, I replied “That’s only because they’re not inside you…”
I’m hoping my internal ultrasound days are finally over. I’ve seen enough KY in my lifetime, thankyouverymuch.
Sounds like we have the same issues (spotting half the month, hemorrhaging the other half). Had my poking and prodding done in November and they found nothing structuraly wrong so they decided it was my hormones, even though I had better numbers on my blood work than I ever had while trying to get pregnant/going through IVF. So they put me on the pill, which I think is hillarious. One month on and nothing seems much different, I’m giving it one more and if no change I’m calling it quits and buying stock in Tampax. Good luck with the Mirena, and would be curious if you have success with that – please update :)I’d be willing to try it if it works.
You lost me once you started talking about Poppin’ Fresh.
Mr. Burns: “Poppin’ Fresh! You glutinous little doughboy! There’s something I’ve wanted to do to you for years!”
Homer: “Woo hoo! Hey, everybody: if you want to ask Burns for a favor, now’s the time! He’s doped up, or dying, or something.”
OMG the farting thing….I thought I was the only one. THANK YOU for talking about it!
Ugh, you poor dear.
Thank you thank you thank you. I thought I was the only one who thought of all this stuff while they were doing the ultrasounds…..it hurts! Not “uncomfortable”, not “pressure”, that shit hurts.
I’ve had two d n c’s, and one with a balloon ablation, and I tell you though, both times, cleared me up for YEARS.
Hang in.
I have had enough pelvic u/s that I drop trou at the mere sight of something probe shaped next to an u/s machine.
I’ve even had the ‘we have no condoms today’ glove-substitute ultrasounds.
I care not.
As for the renal troubles, if you find a solution, could you camn well share it?
Love,
the woman with abnormal kidneys that like to stone it up and shed bugs into my bloodsptream until I can’t remember my name and have an excitingly low blood pressure.
g
Dear Shannon, by gum, it’s good to catch up with you! (I confess the first part of catching up — it took a while — happened last week, but in my current way of measuring time, that’s just a minute ago…) Anyway, I am so thrilled to read your good relationship news! You had me worried there. And your job! And your ensuite! And an end to the worst year ever! Great stuff. I’m not so glad, of course, to hear of your worsening ED syndrome, or of your bleeding troubles. Ugh. I hope the Mirena helps. (I had an appointment to have one put in, but was pushed aside by my husband, who was eager — eager! — to get a vasectomy instead. Huh.) Anyway, you had me laughing at the technician and her misplaced concern at your reaction to her attack on your modesty. I bet she never heard the word “dildocam” in her life… Anyway, I am sorry about the pain — I’ve been on the receiving end of those exploratory cooter wand sweeps, and they are no fun at all. Hope a little post-procedure glass of wine helped…
Can I uncover my ears and open my eyes yet?
I love that you call your girly bits Dale Beaverman. SRSLY.