Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
He scrolled through my records as he sat on the wheely stool. “Date of your last menstrual cycle?”
“The twentieth to the twenty-eighth.” I’d just recited all this information to the nurse and it annoyed me that I needed to go over this crap again. There had to be some malfunction with my ovaries or uterus. I was sure something was wrong and that was what we should be discussing.
“Any lifestyle changes?”
“Well, there’s been a lot more tension in the bedroom.”
“It’s important that you stay relaxed during intercourse. Have you been taking the vitamins?”
“Yes.”
He set the digital chart aside and stood to wash his hands. “Let’s have a look.”
God, I hated this part.
“Feet up.”
I reclined on the paper-covered table, my ass hanging dangerously close to the edge of the table as he snapped on his gloves. Between the table, my gown, and the modesty blanket, there was so much damn paper I felt like a piece of origami. Every muscle twitch was amplified by the obnoxious crumpling.
“Scoot a little lower, please. A little more. Again.”
For the love of God! The gown crinkled as I scooched as close to the table's edge as humanly possible. Another inch, and I’d be on the floor. And there went the blaring light.
I stared at the ceiling so not to blind myself as he scoped out Main Street. “Did you rob a stadium for that thing?”
A courtesy chuckle. “A little pressure.”
He inserted the speculum, and I grunted. If men had to have their private parts pried open, I bet they wouldn’t call it a little pressure. And they’d certainly design more ergonomically comfortable tools than the vagina jack is currently cranking open my cooch.
“Nice weather we’ve been having.”
Why did gynecologists get chatty the moment they were staring up your hoo-hah? “Yup.”
“Have you been timing your intercourse with your ovulation?”
“Yes, but that’s not helping matters in the bedroom.” Some nights, I got so neurotic I might as well have brought a stopwatch and worn a whistle around my neck. “The calendars are sort of a mood killer.”
“Trying to conceive can be emotionally challenging, especially when faced with difficulties.”
Difficulties? Did he find something alarming? Did he know something I didn’t know?
He wheeled back and removed his glove with a snap. “It’s important to have a strategy for coping with the stress. There are a lot of emotions associated with procreation. You can sit up.”
I lowered my feet from the stirrups and scooted back, my gown crinkling with the subtlety of a frying pan falling down a flight of stairs. “You said difficulties. What did you mean by that?”
“Only that patience is a virtue and a difficult one at that.”
“So there’s nothing wrong? You didn’t see any red flags.”
“Everything looks healthy.”
After a year of trying, one little peek at my mystic treasures didn’t seem thorough enough. “Aren’t there some tests we can run?”
“There are certain fertility tests to identify any potential issues, but we like to start with a wide net and narrow down the possibilities.”
Yes, let’s make sure the HMO get all the co-pays possible before we get to the actual bottom of my fertility obstacles. “So, what’s the plan of action? Where do we start?” I needed answers.
“We can order some new bloodwork to check your hormone levels, and it might be a good time for some imaging.”
“Imaging?”
“A pelvic ultrasound. A semen analysis for your partner is an option as well.”
“Where does he get that done?” I highly doubted anything was wrong with Hale’s swimmers, but it was worth a look. Whenever I pictured his sperm, they were swimming around in little Armani ties.
“They’ll give you a referral at the front desk.”
“Okay.” My gut told me this was a me problem, not a Hale problem. “For the imaging too?”
“Yes.” He made a note in his laptop. “It’s important that you keep trying.”
“We are. Every day.”
“Well, that’s good.”
Was it? Sex was starting to feel like a football play.
Rayne’s on defense. Hale’s coming in on that final-yard line. The team’s fired up, and there’s the snap…
“What about IVF?”
“I’d say we’re a ways off from that.”
“Exactly how long is ‘a ways’?” I needed solid numbers.
“Ovulation induction, insemination, or in vitro fertilization are treatments typically considered after a thorough evaluation.”
“Doc, we’ve been evaluating the…situation,” I gestured toward my lady bits. “for over a year.”
“Like I said, we need more tests. Moving forward with any ovulation treatment depends on each patient’s unique circumstances.” He stood and handed me a pamphlet. “There’s some helpful information in here about counseling and support groups. It’s important that you educate yourself before making any decisions.”
Why did so many male doctors assume woman put no thought into decisions prior to entering their office. This was the only thing I thought about—every day—for more than a year.
“Thanks.”
I glanced down at the cornflower blue brochure, and my heart stopped at the boldly printed word INFERTILITY.