Going in was easier today. All I needed to do was get my blood drawn to test my HCG value and give the doctor the ultrasound results from yesterday. In and out. That was my plan. It all looked good with a waiting room with only two other patients. Before I even cracked open my magazine they called my name to draw blood. I sat down and examined my needle marked arms. The right arm looked like it would take another needle.
Putting pressure on the fresh prick in my arm, I waited outside the doctor’s office. Hand him the results and this will all be over for today, I thought while waiting. He called me in. I stumbled over my words when I handed him the ultrasound scans from the clinic we went to without his prior knowledge. He paused with a raised eyebrow but accepted the printouts. Initially, he said he saw no reason to do another ultrasound today. I agreed. Then he looked over the results and I told him they had found a cyst on the left ovary. He face became serious. He looked over the ultrasound pictures and said he changed his mind we wanted to look. “Um, OK,” I said. What the hell, I thought; it’ll be over faster than me arguing with him.
He looked around and before long said he could find no cyst on my left ovary. This didn’t surprise me since his ultrasound does not have near the resolution as the one yesterday, but OK. For some reason I am not the least bit concerned about his finding and this existent/non-existent cyst. I want to know what is going on with this pregnancy. Whatever information comes in addition to that is put on the ‘to be dealt with later’ shelf.
He moves on to examine my uterus and does find something new. Loose blood. He shows me the area at the top of my uterus that is a grey speckled circular area. “Don’t be surprised if you begin bleeding soon,” he says to me and examines it for the next few minutes. Finally, he removes the wand and I get dressed and head back into his adjoining office. ‘I can go home now’ is for some reason the only thought that wants to be in my head now.
To say the least I am surprised when I sit back down at his desk to see his every increasing look of concern. He goes on to tell me that should I have any pain I need to go immediately to the hospital. “OK,” I say obediently. “And depending on your values today we will potentially have to conduct daily ultrasounds to avoid any dangers with an ectopic pregnancy and keep you overnight in the hospital.” Alright, he is sounding serious which is good that he isn’t taking me lightly anymore. Maybe the visit to another office had that effect, or maybe he truly is convinced that this is a dangerous ectopic pregnancy, in which case makes me less committed to my get in and get out motto for the day.
The phone call regarding my HCG value is supposed to finally put an end to all this. I have five hours until my cell phone will ring. Somehow the hope that crept in yesterday has left while I wait for the call without anxiety – working and getting back to my life before all this. As the time gets closer though I realize I’m not one hundred percent indifferent and Richard sits down to watch a recorded episode of Seinfeld with me. About thirty seconds into the show my phone rings. My value fell by 4. It is now 756 instead of 760. “Stop taking the progesterone,” the nurse says, “and come in on Friday for another ultrasound.”
Richard is obviously disappointed, “It’s like we don’t know anything new. The value didn’t go up or down.” “Yes, but it should have doubled if this were a viable pregnancy, and if it’s ectopic then it seems like my body will end the pregnancy by itself,” I counter. His disappointment is palpable. Back to Seinfeld.
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