My new moto is Hakuna Moscato, because nothing says it means no worries quite like a bottle of wine!

1db99d49613007c56e88194a940caff1

A big thanks to my hubby who supplied me with a nice large bottle this week since my time machine failed me and I turned 30 on Monday. Spare me the, “These will be the best years of your life,” and “30 isn’t bad, just wait until you turn 40,” or “Age is just a number.” Yes, age is just a number and that number 30 makes me feel old! Or maybe it’s because I spend most week nights eating dinner at 4:30 and going to bed by 8:30 that makes me feel more like 70 than 30.

Needless to say I was not excited about this milestone birthday. I think everyone has a picture in their head of how their life will be at every age. For me, that picture in my head couldn’t be more different than what my reality is. My reality is 100 times better than what I ever imagined. I have the best husband… literally, THE BEST! I know every woman thinks that. Sorry to break it to you ladies, I totally win in this department. And I feel sorry for everyone else who isn’t married to my husband. And even if we were like those people on TLC who believed in multiple wives, I still wouldn’t share him because I’m selfish and he’s mine. So you’ll just have to settle for hearing about how wonderful he is. This picture in my head of my life included children… SO MANY CHILDREN. I always joke and say that I would raise an army of kids if that is God’s plan for me. And once again that picture in my head is far from my reality. I am raising two of the best little nuggets, but raising children that weren’t biologically mine was never part of the plan and I couldn’t be more thrilled for this unexpected twist. They bring me more happiness than I ever knew possible. I live and breathe for my two children. But, at 30 I also thought I would have my army a couple of biological kiddos. I think that has been the reason for my lack of enthusiasm. I’m getting older and I know “30 is the new 20,” or whatever crap people tell you when you turn 30, but that doesn’t mean my ovaries are getting any younger here folks.

This year for my 30th birthday I decided to pay the hospital about $500 (because of course nothing fertility related is covered by insurance) to shoot magic glowing dye into my cervix to make my insides light up like a Clark Griswold house so they could check and see if I had junk in my tubes. I was able to schedule the procedure last week after Aunt Flow made her monthly visit. The nurse at my doctor’s office transferred me to the hospital to schedule the HSG test or after today what I will refer to as the Hell Test, because I’m pretty positive what I went through today is as close to Hell as I ever care to come. This test had to be scheduled 1-5 days after Aunt Flow skipped town to ensure that I wasn’t pregnant. So we scheduled it for Friday the 13th of all days and she began telling me what to expect. “The procedure is relatively quick, but you will experience some mild discomfort and you’ll need someone to drive you home. We’ll see you next week!” Once again, that broad was so chipper and I wanted to punch her through the phone. So I waited and googled all week in preparation for this next test. I was actually praying for blockage. I was praying for an answer to this nightmare. I was praying for something that was “common” and an “easy fix” to our fertility issues.

I arrived at the hospital to be admitted about 45 minutes early. I was anxious and scared and every emotion in between. I’d heard horror stories about this procedure and I’d also heard that it was quick and not bad at all. So I really had no idea what to expect going into it. I’ve learned that when you experience fertility issues, everyone wants to tell you about their brother’s sister’s cousin who couldn’t get pregnant and then she did. Today was no different. I told the woman at admitting what procedure I was checking in for and she began with her story of her sister’s infertility. I appreciate the positive vibes and all, but excuse me woman I’ve known for 3 minutes if I don’t give a s*** about your sister’s fertility issues. I’ve got my own problems to worry about and sitting her listening to you go on and on about how you told her you’ll carry a baby for her if she is unable to isn’t putting my mind at ease for the pain and probing I’m about to endure. It’s just making me want to ever so politely tell you to shut the h*** up. After I left the chatty Cathy in admitting I checked in at x-ray and waited.

A super sweet and tiny little nurse came to get me and take me back. She made small talk during our walk and briefed me again on the procedure I was about the experience. Once again she mentioned the mild discomfort. We got to the room and I dropped my drawers and was ready to get this show on the road. I got my bare cheeks up on the freezing cold surgical table and assumed my position staring at the ceiling waiting for the hell to be over. The nurse called in the Dr. and he was a miserable human being. “Hi I’m Dr. McA**hole (that’s not his real name, but it should be). Do you know why you’re here today?” I responded with, “Well you’re the doctor. I would hope you know why we’re here.” He didn’t laugh. Then he asked if I understood the procedure. Once again I sarcastically responded with, “Yes, Dr. In technical terms, we’re here to see if my shit is clogged.” The nurse laughed. I mean I think I’m hilarious most days, but apparently my humor doesn’t always translate well to hospital staff. So the Dr. rolled his eyes like my 6 year old does to me often and went about his business. Not sure what he had to be so cranky about. I was the one laying spread eagle on an ice cold table about to have a Dr. go fishing in my insides with a catheter. Sounds super pleasant right?

So there I lay and then the pain started immediately after the Dr. went to work. I like to think I have a pretty high tolerance for pain but after today I’m not so sure. This was supposed to be a quick procedure. The nurse started making small talk again and I knew something was up. Then the Dr. finally chimed in and said he was having a hard time getting the catheter in my cervix so he kept poking away with little concern for my squirming. After what felt like an hour he said he was able to get it in. So I laid flat and they got the xray machine in place. The nurse then said I would feel that mild discomfort as the push the dye through the catheter. HOLY S***! I moaned and grabbed the table. They had me rotate, more dye, another scream from the pain. Then Dr. McA**hole had the nerve to ask, “Are you experiencing pain?” No you jerk, I scream and writhe like this for fun. Yes, I’m in a whole lot of pain. Mild discomfort my ass. “We’ve got to get a picture of the other side. We’ll need you to turn the other way and I’ll push the dye through one more time.” Repeat horrible pain and scream and then we were all finished. Of course by this point I was crying. I felt like I had a bowling ball in my uterus and I couldn’t move just yet. The nurse told me just to lay there. Thank God that was over.

The Dr. took one look at the screen and said, “You’re tubes are clear. Everything looks fine.” And then he walked his cranky a**hole self right out of that room. I looked in disbelief at the nurse and told her that man needed a hug. She laughed and said it was good news that my tubes were clear as day. No blockage in sight. She said it was cause for concern that he had so much trouble getting the catheter in my cervix and that I experienced so much pain when they pushed the dye through. That also means that the little procedure they just did could be all I need to open up my cervix and flush out my tubes. So fingers crossed that was the best $500 I’ve ever spent.

So I put on my diaper they gave me (because as if the pain of the procedure wasn’t enough discomfort for the day, I’d apparently be leaking fluid for a while also) and went on my way. They’ll send the images to my Dr. and she’ll call me with her results and her recommendations for the next step now that this test turned up empty. No idea what will happen next and I think that’s the worst part. The unknown. The ‘nothing I can do about it, drink more wine, hurry up and wait, one door closed and another door closed, drink even more wine, nothing I can freaking do about it’ unknown. So here I am wine in hand, still in pain from today, heating pad on high, popping pills and waiting once again. And of course, praying. Lots and Lots of praying!

On a totally unrelated note… I NEED these shirts!

3db438f40b5d396e6ad4fb623dc030181ddcb75959755bb46904fbf13fce450a

Advertisements

4 thoughts on “Hakuna Moscato: It Means Drink Wine

  1. Sam, do you have insurance currently? If so, they should cover all diagnostics up until you are officially diagnosed with infertility. All major plans I believe cover diagnostic and labs. Might be worth looking into further.

    Like

  2. Oh Sam, this post brought back some very unpleasant memories. This sounds EXACTLY like my same experience with that test. Wishing you lots and lots good luck!!

    Like

  3. Oh I love reading your blogs! I wish I would have had your humor when I went through this! I will keep praying for you and Nathan. I know it does not help but God is watching over you!

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s