This morning I had a sonohysterogram with Dr. Dead Fish, otherwise known as the world's most deadpan RE. Thank God he is just the local monitoring RE. I can put up with him for minor monitoring visits, but there's no way in hell I'd ever let him treat me regularly. It seems like there's always some completely unnecessary brouhaha which results from visits with him, chiefly because he's an extremist, worst-case-scenario whackadoodie. There was that time he told me that I probably had cancer and more recently, the time when he located a zebra in my uterus. Thankfully, today he didn't forecast any reproductive nuclear disasters.
This is the fourth sonohysterogram I have had, and aside from some minor cramping which lasts not more than ten minutes after the procedure, there usually isn't much discomfort for me. However, this time — HOLY CHITLINS, the pain. I don't know how many times he cranked and uncranked the speculum, but he was one crank shy of getting the shit kicked out of him. It wouldn't have been too difficult to do, what with my feet already in the perfect, head-flanked position. Then, it seemed that he couldn't locate my cervix. The way he was digging around, it felt like he was trying to look for it in my throat. The joker actually told me to cough. Cough? Are you shittin' me? So I coughed:
Me: "Asshole!" (cleverly disguised as a throaty hack)
Him: "Did you say something?"
Him: "Okay. Cough again, and this time really mean it. Give me a good one."
Me: inhaling dramatically, then –"FUCKER!" (how good am I at saying curse words while "coughing"?)
Him: THERE it is!
He may well have said, "Eureka! I have found it."
The catheter went into place easily and at first, the expansion of my uterus with the saline was hardly felt. But then, it seemed like the longer he was in there, that's the more uncomfortable it got. Usually it seems like the sonos don't take more than a couple of minutes. In – snap a few pictures – and out. But today, what the fuck was he doing? Prospecting for gold? I had to have been there, gritting my teeth and concentrating on breathing through the discomfort – for more than five minutes before he stood up and said, "Your uterine cavity is all clear. Looks good. Good luck. Enjoy your holiday. We'll get these sent up to the clinic."
I hobbled out of the office with Frank while my uterus bitched me out. Why does it seem like my uterus is tethered to every muscle south of my hips? The cramps radiated down the backs of my legs and settled behind my knees. I was smart enough to pop 800 mgs of Motrin before we left the house, so after about twenty minutes, my uterus had settled down from cursing my very name to merely pouting. By the time we finished breakfast at Denny's and were settled in the theater to view Twilight, my uterus had struck a peace treaty with me and stopped fussing altogether.
Sonohystergram – check.
Lupron to start in approximately three weeks.