This was originally going to be one of my funny posts, because there was a lot of humour in what happened today. But actually, it stirred up a lot of feelings inside me and I’ve spent the rest of the day feeling shit as a result. So to do this justice, I’ll separate it into two parts.
Today I had a pelvic scan to look for abnormalities in my uterus like cysts and obstructions. When I got the letter and saw the appointment was on a Wednesday I knew Dave would be working so I asked my mum to come along (because of my long-standing white-coat syndrome I didn’t want to be on my own). Because this is me and I don’t beat around the bush, when I asked her I just came out and said “I’m going to have a massive dildo shoved up me. Can you come with?” And because this is my mum she replied “Ah yes, I’ve had that done to me too.* Of course I’ll come.” As it happens, it ended up raining so Dave couldn’t work that day and he accompanied me instead.
You are supposed to drink 1-2 pints of water before the scan so that your bladder is full and the image is clear. Instead I drank 1-2 LITRES of water so by the time of my appointment I was ready to piss like a racehorse and I was worried that laying on the bed with my legs spread was going to cause me to piss myself. And the worst part was I still hadn’t done my morning poo. But as you all know, you can’t poo and NOT wee so fortunately I just begged the God of Shit that my morning ablutions would be delayed until AFTER my scan.
I made sure I took a shower before we went and shaved everywhere. Everywhere. Legs and vag. This is no more prep than I would do for a smear test, mind, but considering the last 2 times Dave shagged me I hadn’t bothered to preen myself it did seem like my priorities were skewed. When we left the house and I was putting my shoes on I caught sight of my toes and realised I’d forgotten to do my nails. Dave couldn’t understand. “Your flaps are going to be out of show – they’re not going to notice your toenails!” If I was the woman doing it Dave, I would!
As it happens, the bitch didn’t look at my nicely shaved vag or my chipped toenails at all!!! When I was laid on the bed I had a sheet to cover my modesty (what’s the point, at that stage with a foot-long, condom-covered, lubed-up dildo about to go up your J all dignity is lost anyway!) so she blindly put her hand under the sheet and cracked on without any acknowledgement for my preparation.
Well actually, she invited me to “insert the probe” myself. I thought why not as it’s no different to a vibrator or a tampon but it was actually fucking difficult when you’re laid flat with a 12 inch probe and a sheet getting in your way and three other people in the room. So I let her do what she was paid for.
She was far too gentle. Slowly pushing it in and checking I was alright like I was a virgin having sex for the first time. I wanted to say “lady, I’ve had a far girthier penis shoved inside me at lightning speed with only spit for lube. I can take it. Crack on and get it up there!”
But I didn’t.
It wasn’t uncomfortable, just awkward. And annoying, because my water-drinking was for nothing. Although I’d drunk plenty, apparently the urine hadn’t made its way to my bladder yet so when they did the tummy scan it wasn’t clear enough, hence having to have the transvaginal scan instead (after I’d had a wee of course). And I had to put my fists under my hips to raise my bum up so that the probe and everything inside me was straightened out. In the end I had to raise myself up so much until she was happy that I was no longer even resting on my fists anymore, but holding that yoga pose where your thighs are tensed and your bum is in the air!
10 fucking minutes I was in that position! But it was a good pelvic floor exercise at least…
*IN A HOSPITAL BY THE GYNAE DEPARTMENT NOT BY MY DAD!!!!
So although I could find the humour in the situation, I felt today more overwhelmed by the shitty emotions it stirred up.
When my alarm went off this morning, I randomly woke up with a start remembering that I never rand my doctors back before I went on holiday to chase up my AMH results. Because I couldn’t ring for them until after 10am, I called up as I was walking to the X-ray department at the hopsital. It turns out that even though nearly 3 weeks have passed, they’re “still listed as being processed.” Now I’ve never heard of these results taking longer than a few days to do, and the nurse herself who took the blood even said they would be ready within 48 hours so that reads to me like they’ve lost them or forgotten them. That wasn’t a great start to my day.
Then during the scan, as lovely as the lady was, she kept inadvertently saying the wrong thing to me like I’m only 31, there’s still loads of time, now I’m in the system and getting outside help from medical professionals it should take some of the stress away… No it doesn’t! It adds to it!
When I was laid there on the bed in the dimly-lit room staring up at the ceiling, with the gel on my tummy and the scanner rolling over, all I could think of was how I wished it was a pregnancy scan. I was on my own as Dave wasn’t allowed in the room and I wished he was there to hold my hand as the tears silently fell down my face.
She couldn’t tell me what the results were. But it was the way she didn’t tell me that has affected me. Like she said “I didn’t see anything obvious but I have to send the measurements to the gynaecologist and it’s up to them to say whether anything further is necessary or not.”
What?! What I heard there was “I have clearly been able to measure something inside of you that shouldn’t be there but it is down to someone else to tell you how big of a problem that something is.” I’ve got one friend who knows her gynae stuff that will read this and put my mind at rest lol.
So I have a 7-10 day wait for those results via my GP. Which will probably take 4 times as long judging by my AMH levels cock up.
And then of course as soon as we turned the corner as we left the department, a heavily pregnant young woman passed us, about my age. The most beautiful neat bump. As I’m telling my husband with tears in my eyes how infertile and worried I’m feeling, what I long for and crave is paraded right past me.
Like I stab in the fucking uterus.
So now I have a lot of waiting over the next fortnight.
The wait for my AMH test results.
The wait for my scan results.
The wait for my period.
And the endless wait for the baby that isn’t fucking coming.