Posted by: dinainsuburbia | October 21, 2008

Adventures in fertility (the dreaded HSG)

I haven’t brought up fertility recently because there really hasn’t been anything to report.  All preliminary blood work and baseline sonograms came back a-ok with no real reason for my lack of knocked-up-ness. The next step was for my tubing to be checked out- to see if there were any blockages in the fallopian tubes and uterus.  To do this, I had to undergo a procedure called an hysterosalpingogram; otherwise known as an HSG.

Now, I’m not going to get into the nitty gritty of what, exactly, the HSG entails- but suffice it to say- it involves being naked from the waste down and it doesn’t exactly tickle.  I’m okay now (it’s only been a few hours since the procedure) and I’m told everything is in working order.

The doctor that did the HSG is a man- very nice- but still, a man.  I’m the type of woman that is very uncomfortable having someone I don’t know look into my privates.  I know- who is, right?  Well… maybe Jenna Jameson.  Seriously though, the only other time I had a man-doctor was when I was delivering Maddie.  I actually made it 31 years having only female doctors.  While I was *slightly* uncomfortable with a male doctor when delivering Maddie- this was assuaged by 1) the fact that I was in serious pain from contractions and 2) Maddie’s heartbeat was undetectable.  So, I sucked it up, put on the big girl panties, and dealt with it.  

But- this time was a little different!  Neither I nor my child was under duress.  I just wanted to know why I wasn’t getting pregnant and my doc (female of course) suggested that I have an HSG to cover the bases.  So, there I lay on the table.  Wrapped in the “gown” (if it could be called anything more than a paper towel) freezing my paper-wrapped behind off trying to psych myself up for the fact that I have to see a male doctor (or that a male doctor has to “see” me.  “Damn it,” I thought, “I should’ve considered a Brazilian!”  After all, according to Cosmopolitan and Marie Claire, no hair is derigueur.  

And then the Doctor walked in- and you know what?  He was YOUNG.  Young (well like late 30s young) and single and not beastly.  Great… I really should’ve considered that Brazilian.  Then, to make myself feel better, I got a terrible case of verbal diarrhea.  Because if I could distract the doctor with my wit and charm, he would forget all about the fact that he was looking at my holiest of holies.  Or, I could forget about it.

What did I joke about?  Well, the thing that would befit a radiologist- tales of Jackass (from MTV) and the time one of the guys (was it Chris Pontius or Ryan Dunn) put the matchbox car up their ass just to have the x-ray tech find it!  Or when Steve-o  (I think) fell and thought he broke his tail bone and asked the x-ray tech where his poo was.  Come on, that’s funny stuff… but did I really have to discuss it with the radiologist?  

I don’t know what it is about tense situations, but I turn into Margaret Chou (well, except for the fact that I’m not Asian-American).  And I *think* I am funny, the doctor’s assistant said I “made her day”…. but I guess anything has to be better than the crotchety old people that she usually sees, right?

So- that’s the HSG…. it didn’t tickle- but it wasn’t the worse thing in the world either.  We’ll see what happens; the radiologist said that 40% of women get pregnant within 3 months after having the HSG… hopefully I’m not in the other 60%!

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Responses

  1. Good luck. Secondary infertility is just as difficult to bear as primary infertility. I wish you well on this journey.

    Warmly,
    Coach Louise

    http://www.lifebalanceinfertilitycoach.wordpress.com

  2. Glad you don’t have any blockages, but sad you still don’t have any answers!

    I’ve always had a mix of male and female doctors, so it doesn’t bother me one bit. And I’m REALLY not concerned about grooming this time around. I’ve never been waxed–mainly because I don’t like showing MY holiest of holies to any stranger w/o MD after his/her name. And at this stage of the game, it’s just not safe for me to go anywhere near my chooch with a sharp instrument considering I can’t actually see it and need 2nd-party confirmation that it is, indeed, still there.

    I figure no matter how bad it is, they’ve all seen worse. And I’m having a c-section, so it’s not like they’ll be staring into the eye of the storm the whole time.


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