Monday, May 07, 2007

My own pathetic delusions of grandeur

Ah, the joys of trying to reproduce and the mysteries of the female body. For about a week at the end of March, I thought I was pregnant again. After the miscarriage in January, my doctor thought it would be prudent to check my hormone levels with the new pregnancy to be sure that they were rising at the proper rate. Unfortunately they were not, and she thought that we probably had an ectopic pregnancy. After much ado, including having my blood drawn five times in one week and an ultrasound by a radiologist who should NEVER be allowed near a vagina ever again, they decided that there were some cells making up a non-viable pregnancy somewhere in my person, though not in my uterus, and that I would need a few shots of chemotherapy to kill the cells and make sure that they didn't spontaneously start growing, potentially rendering my infertile, if not kill me. And since death was not on my to do list, I figured, okay, let's get the shots.

My own personal opinion was that I was not actually pregnant again, but rather that there were a few leftover "pregnancy cells" that didn't get removed in the D&C and were still wreaking havoc with my hormone levels. Alas, no. The doctor assured me Friday that, after the miscarriage, I had gotten "pregnant again, but not." You'll notice the quotes around that last statement. That's a direct quote from a medical professional. "Pregnant again, but not."

How the hell does THAT work? you may be asking yourself. It was a question that sprang from my mouth before I found a nice, tactful way of saying "what the fuck?!?!?" Apparently I'm a medical anomaly. She said that what probably happened was that an egg was fertilized, but never attached anywhere in my body, but also never left the body, so it just floated off into the abyss that is my abdominal region. It was fertilized, thus pregnant, but since it never attached, not.

Huh. Okay then. So I asked if this was considered another miscarriage. Nope. Pregnant, but not. The whole situation made me feel strangely happy. If it never attached, I was never pregnant, therefore I'm not confirmed broken yet, and hopefully we can continue on to have a happy healthy baby one day soon.

During the whole Pregnant But Not Pregnancy Extravaganza, I became somewhat of a regular with the phlebotomists in the lab. After the 5 Draw Week, the chemo shots, and the subsequent blood work that confirmed the hormone levels were dropping (two draws that week, once in Phoenix), the doctor wanted to monitor the numbers to be sure they continue to drop, so I've had to go in once a week to have blood taken. Friday after my appointment I stopped in for my weekly visit. Tuesday morning's been my usual vist time, but last week it just didn't fit into the old schedule. So Friday afternoon, I stopped in to find a whole new staff works in the afternoons. Okay, no worries. I'm sure they're capable folk. But here's the alarming part. When the gal called my name, she said "oh, we were wondering if you were coming in this week!" Then two other phlebotomists, two that I had also never seen before, poked their heads into the room to take a look. Then they all looked at one another as if to say "Oh, so THIS is that Tabbal woman who's in here ALL THE TIME."

What the hell?!?! Have I become some kind of Phlebotomist's nightmare? I've now gained a spot in Hypochondria Folklore?! And then this morning when I called to get the results of my test, the office voicemail system no longer has the option to speak to the nurse. Have I been driving them all so crazy that they have altered office protocol in a vain attempt to avoid me? Have I become that woman, the one that you dread seeing walk through the doors of your office? The one that causes all employees to scatter like roaches when the light turns on?

I feel like going into their office yelling "I'm NOT crazy!!! I'm pregnant, but not! My hormones are all over the board!" 'Cause THAT wouldn't make them think I'm nuts.

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