The HSG

This weekend was pretty exciting. It started off Friday afternoon with my HSG. Thank you for all of your reassurances that it wasn't going to be horrible. I went into it with confidence, thinking that it was going to be no big deal. Of course, like before, I had a stand up routine of one liners before they actually laid me down to start the procedure. At least this time, there were only two people in the room. I guess my previous audience didn't want to expose themselves to all of that radiation.
Anyway, I was all calm and collected until Dr. Foreign Accent STUCK A NEEDLE in my cervix. Personally, I could have done without this. Especially because I still felt when the dye went in and I could the cramping as my ute was filled with fluid. What is the purpose of the Novocaine? I'm sure the catheter couldn't have hurt more than the effing needle. For the rest of the day, whenever I thought back on the HSG, my crotch stung with the painful memories. The radiology tech was super nice though, and laughed at my comedy routine, which was nice because Dr. Foreign Accent does not find me funny at all. I don't take it personally though - I'm pretty sure he has the personality of a wet mop.
Turns out, the ultrasound picture of my ute was way worse than the HSG picture showed, and I only have a slightly heart shaped uterus (or heart shaped box, as my best friend R puts it). We decided to do the surgery, and so that is scheduled for April 1st. In the meantime, I will be put on bc pills so I don't get my period before the surgery. I'm a little disappointed in this. I was hoping that the HSG would awaken my lady parts and we would conceive this month on our own. Oh well. I gotta run, Mr. Joe needs my help with the kitchen. We're almost done and then I will have a big reveal. I know how you are all DYING to see it LOL.

Calling all infertiles . . .

So today was super exciting.

For those of you just joining us, when we last left off, our heroine (not the bad kind kids) was on her way to an appointment with an RE to determine why she was not knocked up. Unbeknownst to her, the evil Dr. H had sent her to a teaching hospital type place to have this done . . .

First of all, it took me 5 - 10 minutes to find the place, and it wasn't until I was lost that I realized that I had NO IDEA what the name of my doctor was. I was forced to ask people for directions to the fertility center, which was super awkward for me. Lesson learned friends: WRITE DOWN THE NAME OF YOUR DOCTOR or you will be forced to share your business with even MORE strangers.

When I finally found the place and made it back the exam room, I was just about ready to puke from all the nerves. I was sweatier than a whore in church. The nurse noticed this and tried her best to be nice and make me feel better, and by the end of our brief conversation, I did feel a little better. The throwups had left, and I was a little less sweaty. I was maybe even a little excited to see my ute and finally get this show on the road. As I sat with the sheet around my waist (they're so fancy there! No paper crap for me to rip while attempting to put it on!), waiting for my new nurse friend to return with the doctor, I almost laughed at myself for being so nervous. Oh, was I fooled friends!

That nurse was a tricky bitch. I had been lulled into a false sense of security. Not because I was waiting for a long time, mind you. She came right back with the doctor as promised. She also brought about 4 friends. FOUR. PLUS the doctor. All of them waiting for my lady parts to put on a show. EEEEEK!!! I did what I do when I get into any awkward situation:

I brought the jokes. AND I COULD. NOT. STOP.

"It's a full house tonight! It's like we're in a telephone booth! Can everyone see my uterus? Who's going next??" All the while in my head, I'm screaming at myself to STOP WITH THE JOKES. I sound like Kathy Griffin! ENOUGH ALREADY!

The jokes stopped when Dr. Foreign Accent started pointing to my lady parts on the screen. Apparently, they were putting on enough of a show that I didn't have to continue with my one -liners to captivate the audience. After alot of pointing and moving the wand around, Dr. Foreign Accent finally turned to me and said, "Has anyone ever mentioned to you that you have a heart shape for a uterus?"

Now, when the hell would my doctor had the time to do that? I'm sure there was no time for her to share this with me over the hundreds many times that I went to see her.

Bottom line is this: He thinks I have PCOS (which is what I have suspected for a little while now) and that I may have a heart shaped uterus. There is a more medical term for this, but I don't remember it and "heart shaped" just sounds so . . .pretty. He also thinks that Mr. Joe and I will not get knocked up on our own, and that we should start right with IUI. First, I have to have an HSG to confirm that I am indeed, deformed. I have the Quasimodo of uteruses (uteri?). I am going for this on Friday. So any infertiles out there that have had this done: should I be worried about the HSG? Is it painful? I have been doing lots of googling, but I would really like to hear from anyone who has actually done this.

I have decided I am not going to worry about the IUI stuff or any infertility crap until after this HSG business. I am really nervous and barfy over it because this is totally uncharted territory for me. There is one thing I am CERTAIN of though.

I do NOT have enough jokes to get me through an HSG.