After Wednesday’s discovery of the Perfect Running Shorts, I was content to give this week a gold star and cruise into the holiday. I didn’t expect any news out of the ordinary — perfect-running-shorts good or otherwise. Especially since I had one last procedure scheduled on Friday before we dove head first into IVF treatments and/or adoption paperwork.
During our sit down with Dr. M a few weeks ago, he mentioned that we could check my fallopian tubes one last time to see if they had opened after my surgery in January. At the time of the surgery, the tubes were completely blocked. The contrast fluid used to test the tubes didn’t even make it out of the gate. Dr. M, who is a straight talker, felt that my fallopian tubes were irreversibly damaged. But! — he mentioned that we could try the test one more time on the very slightest chance that the tubes cleared up. Where I had the time to come to terms with my condition, Zef was still hanging on to hope. Dr. M mentioned several times that he thought the additional procedure would be a waste of time. After a pregnant pause (ha.), he asked our thoughts on the procedure. I was in the process of shaking my head no when Zef popped up and said, “Let’s do it!” Gee, thanks for offering my body up to science, Z. Dr. M, who is a large African American man whose accent is a cross between sing-songy island and James Earl Jones, looked down at his hands and ran his tongue along his metal braces. Apparently he’s been locked in a small room with a hormonal redhead before and he was just going to sit quiet and not make any sudden movements. I glared at Z, who was just like, “What?”, so I threw my hands up and conceded to the test.
I can’t even tell you the name of the procedure because the name is long and they said it really fast. In layman’s terms, x-rays are taken while a contrasting solution is injected into the uterus so it can make passage through the fallopian tubes. No carbon dioxide is involved, so it’s actually not as gross or as miserable as it sounds. I spoke with the doctor and nurse at the radiology clinic before the procedure and gave them the scoop on my surgery. Even this doctor seemed doubtful the the tubes would be open. I was pretty sure too and I dreaded hearing the bad news repeated. The entire time I was talking to them, I had slow, quiet, hot tears running down my cheeks. These are the tears that you can’t stop no matter how hard you may try. Those are the worst tears to witness. If someone is hysterical and blubbering, you want to smack them and tell them to get a grip. But it’s the hardest to watch when someone is trying to keep their composure and they can’t keep the tears from coming. I felt bad for the nurse as she handed me a tissue. She wanted to make things better but some tears can’t be stopped.
The procedure was mildly uncomfortable. I laid on a metal table so the x-ray machine could move over me. As the doctor was doing the procedure, she asked me to tilt my hips from side to side. We did the right side first. Tilt, tilt, tilt, tilt… I felt like a teapot. No dice. The right side is still blocked. The doctor said, “OK, let’s check the left. It only takes one.” Tillllt… stop! It’s open. The left fallopian tube is open. The nurse leans over to look in my face, “It’s open,” she whispered. I think she wanted to hug me.
It only takes one. Well this changes everything. We have an appointment with Dr. M on Tuesday to go over the results and options. Because while the open fallopian tube is amazing news, Dr. M will remind us that my eggs and I are as old as the hills and there is no time to waste. Harsh, maybe, but the truth is easier to handle coming from James Earl Jones.