Well, it's over. We had the HSG done yesterday.
It wasn't fun, but the good news is that my fallopian tubes are completely clear.
It was a very uncomfortable procedure, and I didn't react to it well, but today I'm feeling almost my normal self again.
Having the dye injected was pretty uncomfortable for me
(it was like going from feeling completely fine to being smack dab in the
middle of the worst day of my period).
The 4 Advil they told me to take just before I came in didn't touch the crampy/achyness.
It made me remember why I take Aleve at the first sign of ANY period discomfort these days, and reminded me of what made me so desperate to go on "the pill" as a teenager.
Without my Aleve in me to ward off the awfulness of it, I had so much pain that I literally was getting the sweats (like before you throw up), and felt like I was going to either faint or vomit.
And feeling like that on the first "real" day of my period is what drove me to start taking "the pill" as a teenager. When we decided, three years ago, to start trying to get pregnant it is also what made me start gulping the Aleve at the first twinge of any period discomfort.
Sorry to be so descriptive.
The doctor saw me waiting with Pete for the elevator, all doubled over, and took me to an ER room to lay down on a gurney until I felt better. After trying to find the best contorted position to lay in to relieve some of the pain I finally asked Pete to ask the nurses if I could please, please, please have some Aleve.
That'll teach me.
He came back several minutes later and told me they were going to call Dr. H to see what I could have. I had just taken 4 Advil an hour and a half before, so they didn't think I should have anything for another four hours.
Then the nurse came in.
She gave me two shots- one of Demerol, and one to combat the nausea Demerol gives you.
That was overkill.
It literally knocked me flat. I remember that I started to feel weird
less than five minutes after the second shot.
Pete says he tried getting me to sit up straight and I kept tilting over. I kind of remember him catching me a couple of times. I also remember that, for a little while anyway, my brain worked just fine- I could hear and understand what was going on around me- but I couldn't speak or move. That was not fun.
I remember once that my eye started to itch, and I couldn't scratch it! I also couldn't communicate to Pete that I needed him to scratch my eye.
He says I slept for about an hour like that on the gurney.
One of the last things I remember was how hard it was to breathe.
The drugs slowed my breathing down so much, that it took every ounce of focus I had
just to get a "deep" breath.
And apparently, in such a drugged up state, a "deep" breath is not deep- it's very shallow and very, very slow.
I was afraid I was going to die- I thought my lips were turning blue.
The next thing I kind of remember is Pete getting me sitting upright and getting me into a wheelchair to go home.
I remember feeling so embarassed to have anyone see me like that.
I had almost no bodily control at all, and it was all I could do to keep my eyelids open.
The nurse told Pete I'd start to come around in "an hour or so".
We got home around 4:00 p.m.
I remember being with it enough to read the clock at 11:00 p.m.
Note to self:
Never, ever, ever- unless the pain is so great it truly will end your life- complain of pain in the hospital.
Silly me, all I wanted was something to take the edge off.
So, what now?
Well, now Pete does a second evaluation.
Yes, I did say second.
The tale of the first one, and how Dr. H's office gave us the wrong container,
is a tale for another day (and probably a less public format).
Here's hoping that, before 2009 is over, Baby Schieuer will have happily and healthily joined our little family!
Happy New Year. :)
