Mar 23, 2017 Had my annual mammogram. Tech noted that my period was late, since my last menstrual period started on 2/11. I had to sign a waiver, saying I understood there was a risk of damage to the fetus, if I am pregnant. I signed and had the x-ray and ultrasound. Why not just do the ultrasound to reduce the risk…I would wonder later.
(Mar 25 – 100% stoppage of alcohol and cigarettes)
Mar 31st –I am back in the OBGYN office today to get my results. The good news is, everything looks great! No cancer, no pre-cancer, nothing.
I'm also meant to get my dose 1 of 3 of the HPV vaccine. I remind her that I still have NOT had a period. She says that the HPV vaccine is contraindicated for pregnancy. I flippantly tell her I wouldn’t be keeping any baby so go ahead and give me the shot. She said she couldn’t, ethically. Nervous laughter escapes my throat, startling me. Wait, is she serious?
She asks me to lay back on the exam table as she'll need to conduct a transvaginal ultrasound. Then all of a sudden, everything starts moving in slow motion. She conducts the vaginal ultrasound and said she saw “something.” I almost fall of the exam table. Something like what?? I look up at the screen and see something that looks like a wet chia seed. I don't know the accuracy of these ultrasound wands. Lady, are you sure that's MY uterus up there? She put away the HPV vaccine and told me she was going to do blood work. If the woman plays poker she must be a stellar player. I can't get a read on anything by staring at her face. She has to feel the weight of my stare and she still doesn't flinch. Clearly, I don't have a career in getting people to profess their thoughts.
She put away the vaccine, slowly and deliberately. She tells me she will send in a nurse to draw my blood. She then tells me she hopes I have a great weekend and just like that, she's gone.
Do you remember Lily Tomlin, as Edith Ann sitting in that giant chair? I suddenly feel like Edith Ann sitting on the end of the exam table in a pink robe. I'm sitting in a wee bit of moisture, likely the lubricant for the vaginal ultrasound. The room seems larger than life size. Either that or my life just got really, really small.
The nurse comes in cooing "Happy Friday" with her little plastic carrying case filled with vials, gloves and tourniquet. I muster a smile and polite conversation.
I need the world to return to normal. It's moving too slow and has gotten too big. What is happening? I was told to come back on Monday (4/3) for the results. I manage to exit the building and find my way home. Barely.