Before leaving Dr. k's office, he informs us that he will send off the blood work and when e results are in, he will send us a letter. I smile despite the violations that occurred in the last fifteen minutes. He seems exactly like the type to send a letter instead of having his office call. I can picture these words scrawled on some fancy pants stationary: Aha! Here is exactly what is wrong! All you have to do is change this simple thing and it will be baby-palooza at your place! Good luck, sex fiends! Love, Dr. K. And it'll be a nice thing keepsake for a memory book or something girls like that.
True to his word about a week later, we receive a personally written letter from the doctor. However, the doctor didn't get my memo. All the blood work came back normal. It's simultaneously reassuring and worrisome. Instead of a glaring, obvious thing that the doctor can quick fix, there's going to be a bit more of a process.
Forward we go. Dr. K wants to perform tests as my wife's cycle progresses, watching how her body specifically works. This translates to more blood work first, and secondly, something he called an “Ultra Ultrasound,” which sounded kinda cool.
Turns out not so much on the cool.
It turns out that in this “Ultra Ultrasound,” they inject dye into the fallopian tubes to discover any blockages that could be preventing normal egg traveling.
Oh! And it hurts.
I left work early to go with her on test day. While we waited, I glanced around the waiting room. A television with poor reception delivers a Cosby show episode from 1,000 years ago. A man in a wheelchair, whose legs are nearly twice as small as the rest of his body, plays with his daughter while his wife remarks that this is their first in a series of stops in various departments that day. An elderly couple snacking on popcorn. The husband is wearing a wristband labeled NUCLEAR. A mother wheels with her child's head strapped into some type of brace. People come and go.
All these different lives intersecting at this one place, all for their various medical reasons. What are they here to uncover? What are they hoping for? How is God working in their lives?
I'm overwhelmed by my wife's bravery. I would be a complete wreck. She would deny it, but it's true. I know she's nervous, yet here we are. She has her wristband: DIAGNOSTIC. It's not as cool as NUCLEAR, but what are you gonna do?
We wait for her name to be called.
It's time. Back we go, past people laying in hospital beds, to a new waiting area. I have to stay here while she goes in alone to an unknown. See what I mean? Brave.
She changes into a hospital gown and heads off with a nurse. I say a little prayer and disappear into Angry Birds again. Take out nervous aggression on digital pigs. I swear I'm not insensitive, but I have to burn off this nervous energy.
Maybe twenty minutes passes and she returns. After she changes, she falls into my arms. Without too many specifics, it was not a good experience. Bad bedside manners and insensitivity from the technicians. But it's over now. She did it and she's safe.
We have to collect a copy of the results and run them up to Dr. K's office.
And then it's time to wait for another letter.