Four Weddings and a Funeral
Although I wouldn't allow myself to conjure a due date or day dream about decorating a nursery during the five minutes of my pregnancy, I did permit some thoughts about parting with my RE's office. I decided this was permissible, as whether it is successful or not, one way or the other we will have our final treatment. We will eventually be finished with this process. While I'm so eager to be done with juggling my life around these brief monitoring visits, there's a part of me that admits I'll miss some aspects. The office manager who sits at the front desk is sweet and always pleasant. I've really warmed up to New Girl, as she seems to genuinely care for us. I hadn't seen Misery at my last few visits, so I wonder if New Girl has replaced her, but even Misery was starting to exhibit some compassion. I've enjoyed having the opportunity to swap clinical cases with my RE, and I feel that I've learned a lot during our exchanges. I've obtained a cheeky curbside consult for a few of my patients and he gave me some tips when I had to perform an endometrial biopsy for a woman prior to a donor egg cycle at an out of state clinic. There have been occasions where I've exposed my personal vulnerabilities and I think at times, he's revealed a humbler side of himself as well.
Shortly after I accessed my own pathology results, I emailed my RE's office to let him know I was informed. I figured I would spare him the awkward phone call. A few weeks later, I received an email message from him: "Hi Jane, have u started your cycle yet?" Ugh. Taking prompt notice of the absence of the letters 'y' and 'o' that complete the word 'you', I started subtracting intelligence points from his Ivy League diplomas. My elementary school teachers, as well as my mother, placed so much emphasis on proper grammar and penmanship during my early education and it has stuck with me. "Whether it's fair or not, you will be judged on those traits" I heard those words so many times. I even had a teacher who marked your answers as incorrect if you dotted your 'i' with a little circle or a heart. I'm old enough to be from the days when teachers could get away with that shit. Now they'd be penalized for suppressing creativity or individuality. Nonetheless, attention to grammar does make an impression on me. When I was chatting with the irresistible Kiwi, who would have been my lone one night stand, his accent alone was pumping my estrogen levels faster than Follistim; but it was his accurate selection of pronouns and astute application of the subjunctive that really got me out of my knickers. Okay, I'll give some credit to his context; my mates and I noticed you as soon as you walked into the room...would you object if I were to kiss you? My vajay-jay was all a-tingling when I later discovered that he shares my annoyance for improper utilization of 'your' and 'you're'...Young lads take note, good diction can help get you laid. Anyway, I am digressing...
So, had 'i' started my cycle? I didn't quite have an answer. Earlier in the day of my D+C, I performed an IUD insertion and I watched my medical assistant hand my patient a perfect size wingless post procedure pad. Annoyed with myself that I didn't think to shop in our office supply closet, I grabbed a few pads from the drawer and stashed them in my purse. It would not be the first time in this process that I've been over prepared; I had no bleeding after my D+C. Not a drop. I shared with a colleague how I had wasted so much time performing a consumer reports survey in the feminine hygiene products aisle before purchasing my first ever box of pads. "Well, just save them until you're post partum!' she replied. But, I may never be post partum. That thought immediately flashed through my mind. I wondered if it was just an automatic defensive pessimistic reflex, or if I really had a premonition that I would never be in a post delivery state. All I knew at that moment was those pads were now tainted by her words, possibly cursed. I had to get rid of them.
Although she was trying to be thoughtful, my colleague couldn't understand that I can't do anything to prepare for a potential baby at this point in time. Husband did a shopping trip while I was pregnant and later found it hard to eat those foods as he had selected them with me and the baby [embryo] in mind. I thought about giving the pads to Co-worker, as she has heavy cycles, but she'd turn them away and encourage me to be more hopeful. It would be fun to send them to Myrtle, who after being penetrated by six different men and pushing little Myrtle from her hoo-ha, is still afraid to use tampons. However, when we were purging our pantry of gluten staples to donate to the food bank, I noted that 'personal items (soap, deodorant, etc...)' were included in their wish list. I figured that you can't get more personal than sanitary protection and I threw all the pads in the donation box.
So getting back to the original question; had I started my cycle? Well to quote Chris Rock, not really. Although in many ways I felt an instant sense of relief moments after my D+C, I still felt as if I were under the fog of a hormone hangover, which I projected would last about two weeks. Sure enough, two weeks after my procedure, I started bleeding. I never went in for a two week follow up, as even in my delicious Ativan/Norco induced delirium, I commented that such visits are not evidence based. Initially the bleeding seemed like a normal period (well, normal for me) and although I knew that this wasn't an ovulatory cycle -would it count? I decided to reset my Clear blue monitor as if it were a CD1. However, to commemorate the debut of some new underwear, I continued to spot. For 12 bloody days. As of day 19, my monitor still hasn't registered a high reading. A 'normal' period may be more elusive than I thought it would be.
NB: I'm not opposed to using 'u' and other abbreviations in a causal message between friends; I'm holding my RE to a higher standard as it was in a professional context.