But God knows what I need as much as I do, but He knows it better. He delivered me from my uncertainty and placed me on the solid ground of finality. It wasn't graceful or even that pretty, but He did it.
I had an appointment today for another hysteroscopy. It's a procedure where the doctor inserts a long scoped camera into your uterine cavity and makes sure there is no damage, scarring, etc. I've had one before, back in January 2013 so I was familiar with the process. I had to call ahead, though, because having had the procedure before I knew I was supposed to take pain medication an hour before hand but when scheudling it, the woman didn't tell me what to take or how much. The nurse said "one extra strength Tylenol or two ibuprofen." I chose 2 ibuprofen (400 mg total).
I was introduced to the doctor's assistant who would be performing the procedure by her saying to me "So you've given birth at least once, right? I'm just trying to figure out what I'm going to find when I get in there."
Strike #1: insensitivity. Nothing I haven't run into before, but still stings, nonetheless.
Once I'm stripped from the waist down, and maneuvered into the best place for the assistant to see the goods, she inserted the speculum and then the camera where I would feel "a little cramping." Since having the procedure before, I knew what level of cramps to expect. This was not it. The doctor was summoned because I was apparently hyperventilating over the level of pain I was experiencing.
The doctor rushed in, told me to calm down, breathe, and explain how I was feeling. I told him that I was feeling extreme cramping. (Duh). He said, "don't you get cramps during your period?" and I responded by saying they were nothing like these.
Strike #2: rudeness. Assuming I get period cramps and assuming they would be this bad so I should know what to expect is just horrible, but I'm in pain here so I overlook it.
The next thing the doctor makes sure I need to keep in mind is that this procedure is "elective." If I can't handle it, they don't have to continue.
Strike #3: lying. The procedure was not my idea. The procedure was ordered by the doctor. Had I known I had a choice, BELIEVE me I would have said NO THANKS.
The doctor says he needs 20 seconds, that I need to lie still, and can I do that?
Strike #4: judgement. I'm lying on a table naked from the waste down in excruciating pain and being judged by 3 people. All of whom are staring at my lady bits.
He finishes the procedure and hauls it out of there barely saying a word.
Strike #5: demoralization. His attitude throughout indicated exactly how he felt about me. He was irritated because he felt I was a waste of his time.
As the nurse helps me get comfortable while my body tries to calm down from being invaded, I mention that I wonder if it's because of the pain medication. I told the nurse what I was told to take and she said they normally tell people to take 800 mg of ibuprofen, not 400mg.
Strike #6: misinformation. Not only was I told incorrect information, because of this, I was made to look like a child who couldn't tolerate pain.
It was like God was clobbering me with reality. As I drove home in tears, I reflected on what had just happened in the last 40 minutes. I was demoralized, chastised, lied to, and made to feel like a worthless, waste of time and space. Was this really how I wanted to spend my free time? Is having a biological child THAT important to me that I'm willing to put myself through all of this and lose part of my dignity and integrity?
The simple answer to those questions is no. At this point, it's like I'm trying to prove God wrong. Or trying to force something to happen that is clearly and obviously not going to. At least this way. God wants me to be done with the fertility doctors and treatments. We have to do one more because of moral reasons, but after that, I'm done.
I hear you God. Loud and clear.
