Since the standard pills (Clomid and Femara) didn't do anything for us, injections (Follistim) are next.
Before my doc would start injections though, he required that I do an HSG (Hysterosalpingogram). If you're not familiar with this procedure, be grateful. They basically inject some dye, through your cervix, into your uterus and fallopian tubes. They then take an x-ray, looking to see if there are any blockages or deformed areas.
Let me describe how it went.
My hubby was kind enough to take the day off of work, so he could drive me the hour to the doc's office.
We go in and register. It only took about 5 minutes before a technician called my name. She walked me back to this tiny dressing room. On the bench inside was a box of generic pantyliners, and some hospital socks. She handed me two gowns; one to put on normally (open in the back), and the other to put on as a robe. She said, "You can leave your shirt on, but nothing below the waist. And when you're done, just come out here." She pointed to her right, to a small corner in the hallway, that was surrounded by a curtain.
Um. Okay.
I proceeded to strip down and put on my sexy booties. As I headed out to the hall, to see what was behind the curtain, I found 2 other women in the same get-up.
Awkward....
It's not very often you can sit in a waiting room, and know with absolute certainty that none of the women are wearing panties.
For our privacy, I assume, they secluded all of us non-ovulators into this tiny corner and hid us away from the world.
They also kindly provided us with a little information sheet about how the procedure is done. It went great lengths (and ALL CAPS) to explain that many women feel lightheaded afterwards, and that if you do, there's a chain to pull in the dressing room if you need help.
Hmm. Interesting.
So, the technician comes in and tells us the order in which we'll be called. I'm last.
The first woman goes in. I hear them call for her husband to join her. Ironically, he's also named Brad. I chuckled to myself at the idea of her calling "Bradley!," and my husband coming back to see a different woman spread out on the table.
A few moments later, I hear the patient let out a few grunts. Within minutes, the technician runs out to a pantry in the hall, grabbing cans of juice. She quickly murmurs to us, "She just passed out. This might take a little while."
We then hear her talking to the doctor. "Yeah. She passed out. Right on the table. Nope. She didn't even get up first."
Uhhhhhh.
Eventually, the first woman walks back to her dressing room, with her husband supporting her on one side. He then has to go in to help her get dressed.
Next!
The second woman goes back. Her spouse/partner was apparently not present, or opted to not come back. As a bonus for being last, they let hubby come back to my little seclusion corner and sit with me.
So, I'm sitting there, telling my husband how the first lady actually passed out, when we hear screaming. Not just one scream. Not a grunt. But full on, "Someone shot me in the leg!" kind of screaming.
The second patient was clearly having a rough go of it. "It HURTS! It huuuuurts! Stop! Can you stop? Get it OUT!"
THAT is when I got a little
I turn to my husband. "SEE what I have to do?!"
I then joke, "Well, she'll be an epidural candidate."
It was my way of reminding myself that if I really wanted to go through labor, this can't scare me by comparison.
Patient #2 emerges, gives me a quick smile with a concerned look on her face, as if apologizing; knowing that her screams of terror have likely given me even more fear.
My turn! No doubt, my stomach was churning and I was tensing up. Bad news bears.
I go into the room, which is very dark, and VERY cold. Granted, they made me remove the 'robe' gown.. so my ass was out for everyone. I knew that between the blue hospital gown and brown hospital booties, my husband was beyond excited. But he'd have to wait. Doctor is going in first.
So, I lay down on this metal table. The technician instructs me, "Just relax. Here are some handles to squeeze when it gets painful. Oh, and it's best if you let your legs just drop to the side... kind of go "froggy."
Sure lady. I'll relax while gripping something in pain. Seems legit.
Doc comes in. Puts on all his protective garb (I get none).
Well, hello cold speculum. It's been awhile.
I can feel everything, but I can't see anything. I just have to stare at the ceiling, hoping this goes quickly.
Unfortunately, the doc is giving me a play-by-play. "Okay, now you're going to feel a pinching... Now, some pressure. Okay, in about 5 seconds, it's going to hurt."
Why tell me that? As soon as you say that, every sphincter in my body tightens up more than a nun at an orgy.
And there it was. The worst internal pain I'd ever had. But I'm a silent sufferer and always have been. No grunt, no yell, no cry. Just breathe.
And just as you're about to breathe through it, the technician yells, "Hold your breath!"
I can't say it was horrific, or that I even wanted to scream. It felt like someone poured some acid into my uterus, and the "pain" really comes from not being able to move or do anything to make it stop. You just have to lay there and take it.
The good news is that it only lasts 15-20 seconds before it dulls down into some cramping.
The doctor leans over, rubbing my arm. "You did great. And Carol, you have a PERFECTLY shaped uterus."
Thank goodness. My husband can now brag to all his buddies about his wife's perfect uterus.
Additionally, my tubes are clear and ready for egg and sperm travel. So, game on. Next month, we'll be starting injections. We'll definitely keep you posted.
