This morning, while sitting in the waiting room, I started to feel like I was ovulating on the right side. I was alone because my honey could not avoid going to work being one of two supervisors. I knew it would be Dr. Otherguy aka Dr. Hasacomplexandpissesmeoff. On one hand, I was nervous because I didn’t want him to piss me off. On the other hand, I was relaxed because he had never tried to use the evil clamp on me, as had Dr. Mug. I also knew that though I have made a solemn vow to never let a tenaculum touch my tender parts again, deciding to use my karate skills if need be, I knew there was a slight chance that it might be introduced. I knew I could neither handle the clamp without my honey, nor could I control my rage and self-preservation instincts without her there. (I feared for the well-being of the doctor’s teeth.) I devised a plan. To avoid him pissing me off, which he does because he seems jealous of Dr. Mug’s far-better social skills, so he tries to sound better then him by insulting his intelligence — not something you want done to your doctor — I decided not to chat with him at all. I would speak only when spoken to. To avoid the clamp, I started to meditate and visualize my cervix straightening and opening. I’m sure both doctors would laugh heartily at my visualization idea, but it has worked for every IUI since the initial tenaculum one.
My plan worked! I did my best not to talk. I did tell him that I thought I’d ovulated in the waiting room on my right side. He did the ultrasound first and said he didn’t see anything on the right, but I still had mature follicles on the left. He thought all of my follies had been on the left. Then he told me that the pain isn’t actually the ovulation. The pain comes a while before the ovulation. So I was actually glad because I wanted some swimmers up there when the eggs finally released. I had been nervous yesterday because I didn’t have any ovulation pain. Ha! I’ve been in pain all day. Good pain. I like this pain. Unlike the tenaculum, this pain is productive and necessary. (I’m sure I don’t need to feel pain to ovulate, but I LIKE to feel pain when I’m ovulating and I’m trying to get knocked up.)
Oh, so long story short, no tenaculum, no karate moves done on medical professionals, no insulting of Dr. Mug. All-in-all a good IUI. Plus, I was forced to take the whole day off because my boss said they can’t hire a sub for half the day. So I found myself in Manhattan with nothing to do. For a mom of a toddler, this is a very rare moment indeed. As I drank my green tea, I decided that if I were truly about to pop out some eggs into a sea of swimmers, I wanted that act to happen surrounded by beauty. I didn’t get on the train. I walked through Central Park to the Met. There, I stared at people in photos taken in the mid 1800s, when cameras were first in use. Some of the people had had to sit still for ten minutes to make the photo work. I looked into the eyes of Gala Eluard, as painted by her lover Max Ernst, and remembered both an amazing love poem written to her by Eluard and Salvador Dali’s constant and devoted attention to her image. I walked around the museum until the stimuli became too much and I got an art belly ache. (I love museums, but I can only take them in small doses.) Then I made my way home.
Now I’m belly-down on my bed in pain — quite possibly getting pregnant.