Today, I had the HSG test. I had to take a pregnancy test before I could have the HSG test, so I went to my ordinary doctor’s office about an hour and a half before my appointment to find out if I was knocked up already. I failed one test, and passed the other — I’ll give you one guess which is which.
I had been advised by the nurse to take ibuprofen an hour or so before the test, but of course, because I was so insanely early for the HSG test, I instead sat in the sandwich shop, eating broccoli soup and reading my book until my frantic and late-as-usual wife showed up to hustle me down to radiology.
The test itself was painful. More painful, actually, than I thought it would be. I think this is because my doctor had some difficulty getting the catheter in deep enough, so she used some horrible sword-like device that “would cause considerable cramping.” That’s an understatement, when someone is shoving a sword into your cervix. The one upside is that it was fast — about 2 minutes, once they wrangled that catheter through my apparently maze-like cervix.
And, I guess the other up-side is that my tubes are clear. Totally clear. So now there’s just some dye swimming around in my abdominal cavity and some residual bleeding from the sword fight to deal with. And a free and clear path for this month’s lucky gentlemen (the sperm, I mean).
After the procedure, when the doctor told me my tubes are clear, she dropped the bomb — she thinks that if this cycle doesn’t work, I should consider Clomid for next time. My desire to go on Clomid ranks somewhere between “root canal” and “brain removed through nasal passages using a hook.” Not to mention the risk! of! multiples! Maybe she wasn’t paying attention when we told her we already have a shit-ton of kids, and we would like to up the ante one at a time. When she said this, I wanted to say to my wife “See! It’s really abnormal that it’s taking this long! And therefore breaking down the bedroom door was a totally normal reaction to the frustration and disappointment!” Unfortunately, she wasn’t allowed in the x-ray room with me, and I was still lying prostrate on an x-ray table with god only knows what on display for the rest of the room to see, so I just nodded and told her we would think about it.
I’m done thinking about it. No. No Clomid. Maybe I’ll just go ahead and get pregnant this month, instead.