This was supposed to be a joyous Show and Tell post where I flash pictures of my new car- the nicest one I've had in my entire life- as well as the picture of the four leaf clover I found on Saint Patrick's Day. Lucky, right?
But it ain't.
Yesterday I started to have abdominal pain. Sharp, evil, tender-as-hell pain. I waited overnight to see if it would dissipate, and it kept me up all night. Finally called off sick and went to the Dr this morning. It did not feel ovarian, otherwise I would have called Dr A. I know what ovary pain feels like, thankyouverymuch. This felt GI to me.
Family doc checked my ovaries- nope, they were the right size and not the tenderest bits. The right lower quadrant was the worst spot. Because I'm PUPO right now, a CT scan was out of the question, and she decided to send me to ultrasound to check out the right ovary and the appendix. She was thinking appendix vs. ovary vs. worst IBS flare I've had in the 10 years I've lived with IBS.
Went to get the ultrasound, and had to have a full bladder, a la IVF, in order to visualize the ovary. The 45 minute drive there was sheer torture, with an overly full bladder pressing on my tender abdomen. I cried and nearly shrieked the whole way, and forced Mr S to pull over at Wendy's to pee. I chugged 16 oz of water a mere 30 minutes before the test, and guess what? My bladder was full damn enough.
And then came Chris, the ultrasound tech from hell. She saw the words "infertility treatment" on my order, and that is all she saw. She kept asking me when we would have a child again, and was not satisfied when I said "It's not easy for us." and tried to leave it at that. "You should have another, it's time for another" came out of her mouth at least 3 times. Thank you for doing your best to pierce me to the heart, you insensitive cow.
And then, of course, she says "It's happen so fast next time."
Thanks, ignorant bitch, but it's been 15 months now. That doesn't sound particularly fast to me. I don't recall asking for your opinion.
She decided to whip out the Wonder Wand and just look at my ovaries. Which were fine and normal, by the way. I've seen my own ovaries on a screen often enough to tell if there's a giant cyst growing. I asked her when she would look at my appendix. She said it wasn't necessary.
I almost blew a gasket. I don't expect to see anything- in fact, I don't expect to learn why I am having pain or to find out there is actually something I can do about it, cynical bitch that I am, but I sure as hell expect some fucking ultrasound tech with an associate's degree to defer to a physician's orders. If I thought my damn ovaries were hurting, I'd have called Dr A in the first place, and spared myself driving all over the damn city. She very reluctantly did a half-assed scan of the appendix area.
I was so furious, and felt terrible from being in pain for two days, and hadn't eaten for almost 24 hours, that I slammed around the linen cart in the ultrasound room, stomped off, and burst into tears the minute we reached the hallway. I sobbed so hard the way home, that I almost threw up in my new car. Did I mention that Mr S was supposed to leave for a hockey tournament, and because of my body drama, he is missing it? Add a heaping helping of guilt to this already fucked up day.
The Return of the Imaginary Friend
10 hours ago











