All Systems Go!

HYSTEROSALPINGOGRAM

** FINDINGS **:
A hysterosalpingogram was performed by Dr. Samuel Yu, utilizing a
balloon tip catheter and water-soluble contrast media.

The uterine cavity is normal in configuration although somewhat
smaller than typically seen in overall size. No filling defects
are identified. Both fallopian tubes fill normally and are without
dilatation. There is free peritoneal spillage demonstrated
bilaterally.


...in other words, the plumbing is all good!  Yipee!  So, I can now say I haven't been the problem.  Phew!

Sistren Asia accompanied me this past Monday to my HSG procedure.  It was important for me to have someone accompany me, as I feared the possibility of having to deal with devastating news.  Fortunately, that wasn't the case.  Still, it was wonderful to have a supportive friend by my side, as the procedure was terribly painful - kicked oral gum surgery out of its long-lived ranking of my most painful experiences.

We arrived at the Radiology Department of Kasier RWC Monday afternoon.  After a quick check-in, I was given a clear plastic bag, asked to enter a changing room, remove my clothing, and handed a confusing hospital robe to put on.  Following the step-by-step directions conveniently posted on the dressing room wall, I slipped the robe on, tucked in the peep holes and headed into the cold, sterile exam room.  

Unfortunately, Azh wasn't allowed into the exam room during the procedure.  Instead, I had to suffer miserably, alone, while four medical examiners - one gynecologist, one X-ray technician, one student X- ray technician in training, and one radiologist, all donning cumbersome Xray vests, resembling heavy duty Kevlar vests, poked and prodded me as if I was a science experiment.      

Emotionless, straight faced examiners...bright lights...clunky machinery on wheels, hanging from the ceiling and hovering over the raised, padded exam table...I felt as if I was a character on the X-Files that had been abducted from my bed, still in my pajamas, and beamed into the belly of a UFO.  I half expected Moulder and Scully to barge in and rescue me from my fate.

Before climbing the step stool to lay upon the exam table, I decided to remove my socks, even though I was told I could leave them on.  Though the room and metal edges of the table were freezing cold, I felt odd wearing nothing but my socks - kinda like keeping nothing but your socks on during sex...leave it to me to come up with that analogy!

As I stretched out on the exam table, my legs propped like a tent, I observed the technicians handing Dr. Yu, my gynecologist, the devices and materials needed for the procedure - a plastic catheter, longer than a ruler, and about the diameter of two cocktail straws, a solution in a clear, glass vial, and a whole lot of cotton balls.  As Dr. Yu began to open up yet another fairly large package, wrapped in blue sterile cloths, I decided to look away, lay back, and try not to bare witness to any other unfriendly gadgets.

As with most visits to the gynecologist, the cold, metal speculum was inserted first.  I was then prepped and swabbed with iodine.  Similar to my inseminations, the catheter was inserted next.  This catheter however, was longer, wider and not as flexible, so it's presence was not mistaken.  Now, I was told to expect cramping similar to that of insemination, though they didn't mention the cramping would be prolonged and about a gazillion times worse!  As my toes curled and my face cringed, I noticed the two technicians looking away, as if they couldn't bare to see the abuse.    

Once the catheter was in place, the solution, a dye, was injected into the catheter.  The dye then travels through the catheter and into my uterus and fallopian tubes.  As this occurs, the television, hanging behind and above my head, is pulled into position for the examiners to view.  Though I can't see the screen from my position, I feel the dye being released into my insides and watch the four solemn faces hovering above me, their eyes riveted on the machine. 

With the catheter still in place, Dr. Yu at the foot of my bed, holding one end of the catheter, I am directed by the radiologist at my side, to rotate my hips left then right.  Like a pig on a spit, I slowly, cautiously, turn my hips, trying to not disturb or exasperate the devices inside me.  The sliding X-ray machine, hovering inches above my body, is manipulated up and down my lower body, offering the doctors visuals of the horrendous act.

Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, the radiologist directs Dr. Yu to rotate, adjust and move the catheter into various positions to view different angles of my uterus.  For the first time, I audibly wince in pain, squeeze my eyes shut and wring my hands together.  This goes on for what feels like an eternity before the whale of a machine is lifted and pushed aside.  Dr. Yu finally extracts the catheter and I damn myself for looking to the side and witnessing the used equipment, tools, and cotton balls strewn across the rolling medical tray.

The technicians and radiologist excuse themselves from the room, never saying a word between them or to me.  I feel a wealth of anxiety well up in me, as the silence of the room weighs in on my body.  Does this silence mean bad news???  Dr. Yu hovers above me on the table, looking down at me.  He explains that I'll most likely have some bleeding and can expect the dye to slowly leak and suggests I wear a sanitary napkin.  Matter of factly, he continues on to say that, "Everything looks normal and there were no apparent blockages."  Holy cow!  Could you not have started with that???  

Dr. Yu wishes me well, leaves the room and the technicians scramble back in.  One hands me a towel to clean up with, the other hands me a pad the size of rolled up magazine.  They direct me to the bathroom attached to the exam room and tell me to take my time changing.  Hunched over, I slowly make my way across the room and close the bathroom door behind me.

Before I can even reach my hand into my plastic bag of clothing, tears stream down my face.  Relief?  Sure, perhaps.  Though mostly, I felt violated.  Standing alone, half naked, in a cold, sterile room, wiping up after a terribly evasive procedure, I couldn't focus on the good.  With slow, premeditated movements, I get dressed, roll the soiled towel up in the robe, hand them to the technicians, and exit to find Asia patiently waiting for me.

Now, I am of course relieved, grateful and joyous to know that there are no blockages or problems.  The peace of mind allows me to go forward, knowing that the first four, failed attempts weren't because of me.  Makes me feel better knowing that perhaps Creator truly has this under control.  I chose the wrong donor, and Creator knew that.  So, all systems are a "go," there's only one way to move - forward!