So, I went to see Dr. B - my new miscarriage doctor. I was there to have a saline histogram and yes, it is was as horrible as it sounds - but just for a second or two. Now, I don't want to scare anyone out there because it isn't THAT bad, but it wasn't exactly a relaxing stroll around the park. Unless strolls around the park that you take involve having liquid injected into your uterus. And if they do, I strongly suggest you take a different route.
The saline histogram will show if there are any irregularities in the uterus that may be preventing a pregnancy from taking place. It involves a catheter being inserted (think the fun of a PAP smear and more) and liquid being placed inside. The doctor then gets to see the theater of the uterus in all its glory.
So, I start the day badly. For some reason, I always think my appointments, no matter where, are at 12.30 p.m. This obviously isn't so. I turn up, bright and, in this case, three hours early, to be told that my appointment is actually at 3.30pm. I return on time.
The offices of Dr. B are very sweet, a little house really. You go in the front door and are faced with comfy chairs and sofas in what was probably the entrance hall once-upon-a-time. Sometimes I have to be brave faced with all the babies running around but, if I remind myself that most women who come to see Dr B were once in my position, it gives me a lot of hope. Seriously, this is the baby capital of Beverly Hills.
Pictures of tired women with newborns adorn the walls, images of cherubs with Thank you! are everywhere, there are Happy Holiday cards plastered with photos of little kids all over the place. At one point I thought "wow, that same woman has had a LOT of children", until I realized (yes I get a bit dazed) that is was Dr B's partner doctor in the practice, in photos just seconds after the birth taken by grateful parents.
I eventually get called into the little room with the stirrups - why do the seats never seem big enough for my backside? And I am told to strip from the waist down which I dutifully do, though there is no cover for me. When Dr. B finally comes in is mortified when he sees me tugging my T-shirt and immediately gets me a paper cover. I am more embarrassed by my ugly, broken toe nails that constantly get wrecked because of my running.
So, the histogram begins with the lovely clamp - the same one they use in the PAP smear. Then the catheter is inserted, not fun at all, and the liquid injected - really not fun. It was like having induced period pain. The nurse kept telling me "breathe, BREATHE" as I sucked everything upwards. I think I was close to not ever breathing again at one point as well as almost levitating off the bed to stop the sensation.
Anyway, once all the liquid was in place, Dr B gives me an internal ultrasound and the photos come rolling off the machine.
As soon as that is done everyone packs up and ships out and I am putting the clothes back on. (But I did check my weight - down eight pounds! Yay!)
I go back to Dr B's office and he has my test results from the armful of blood they took the week before. Hot off the press and with lots of interesting info. It turns out my autoimmune system is too strong and keeps expelling the Zaius part of the pregnancy. It sees my husband as a "foreign body" and keeps getting rid of the pregnancies! In addition, the saline hiss-togram (as it will be forever more known) showed some polyps on the uterus. Thank God I can be knocked out to get rid of those bad boys.
So now we know. I am so damned healthy I can't keep a baby! The bad news for this vain writer, is going on Prednisone - a steroid. I can't bear the idea of weight gain. Which is stupid since I will be pregnant anyway. Who says we have to have logic?
The surgery will be taking place next week....keep your eyes peeled for more adventures. I just REALLY hope the appointment is at 12.30p.m.