The Clinic Chronicles: Part 6

Keeping The Bean

“It’s going to be okay.” The doctor said as she patted my hand. “Just keep on drinking the medicine and taking it easy, alright?”

I just nodded and thanked her as Mr. F helped me out the door. I wanted to escape so badly but needed to keep as much dignity I could muster.

Can you imagine how it’s like to swing from ecstasy to utter despair in the space of a few minutes? I could be schizoid for all I know, but given the circumstances, I would have a legitimate excuse. I now felt like a baseball bat walloped the back of my head, my throat was too tight, and my heart was too big for my chest.

It amazed me how these doctors could take on that kind of responsibility. They literally have their patients’ lives in their hands. They could make or break a person with a few words.

How do they handle it, facing mortality every day?

I think Mr. F and I just went on home afterwards. It was exhausting: exhilaration and the dregs in one unbeatable combination. We just ate something to dull the headachy feeling and talked.

We knew we wanted to keep the Beanie Baby, as the sprout was now called. I’ve stopped smoking (cold turkey since the day before), stopped drinking (last drop of alcohol was the week before), and we agreed that I’d have to stop the helter-skelter pace of my work life.

Curled up on our comforter, we cover random stuff, basically musing about how we would be parents. I wondered which of us would be the disciplinarian and the devil’s advocate. Of course, Mr. F claims to be the spoiler.

“You would be the Supreme Court. I’ll be the Court of Appeals!”

I scoffed at Mr. F. Right. Like that’s going to happen.

Nevertheless, we still felt depressed about the news the doctor gave us.

The Clinic Chronicles: Part 3

Open Wide and Say Cheese!

“So, let’s validate those pink lines with an ultrasound” Dra. O said after the cursory questions (and thankfully no IE!).

“Let’s see if your guess is right on the money.”

So with that, off we went with another nurse to what would technically be our little sprout’s first picture.

Of course, I thought it was going to be something like on TV. They put you up on a bed, paint your tummy with some kind of gel and use a contraption on you that look like a roll-on deodorant.

While that DOES happen, it turns out that I’d have to be a couple months pregnant-er to be able to use that particular gizmo (transabdominal ultrasound).

So what I’d get? A Transvaginal Ultrasound. Yep, right up my yahoo.

If anyone hasn’t seen a Transvaginal Ultrasound thingie, all I can tell you is that you had better be nice to everyone in the clinic…especially the nurse in the Ultrasound room. The thing looks like the prototype for a Jedi light saber. It’s a little short so maybe it’s for a tiny Jedi Master (Yoda, maybe?).

Sooo...the thing is put in a disposable condom and lathered with KY jelly. I was told to relax and breathe deep and YAHOOOOO. Needless to say I wasn’t relaxed.

“Ma’m relax.” The technician said. “This is going to be more uncomfortable for you since I have to move it around.”

“You have to what!?”

“I have to get a picture of your ovaries and your fallopian tubes.”

I felt like a popsicle. Cold, exposed and stuck on a stick.

Then, it happens. No preambles, no drumrolls, no heraldic blast of trumpets to announce The Moment.

“Ma’m? Sir? There it is.”

Right on the monitor…our sprout.

The shape of a kidney bean. A little circle in it. A little pulse in the middle of the stillness. I wanted to touch the screen. I looked over at Mr. F and there he was, no longer smiling, but I could see this moment would be something we would both remember for as long as we lived.

No shit.

Remembering it, I still get teary-eyed.