Monday, January 12, 2015
The Dark Room
I felt like a little girl, scared and alone. She didn't take the time to warm the jelly up saying it wasn't too big of a deal and so there I was, cold and exposed and when I was able to see inside I remember having to catch my breath. I had to slowly inch the lump in my throat back down because I would not cry in here, especially not with her.
The first thing she blurted out was, "this is where your ovaries and uterus should be or would normally be." Instead all it was, was utter and complete darkness. That room was so dark, like someone had thrown away the key and we weren't supposed to be in there. At least I didn't want to see what wasn't there. There wasn't any place for a baby. Not even a place to see a cyst.
Having had ultrasounds now for years I'm used to them, to what it looks like, to what it sounds like. This time there was none of that. I wanted to yank her probe, to throw it at her face and repeat her words back to her, "used to be? Supposed to be? Why don't you get off your high horse, get my husband, my mom, and a box of tissues and never ever step foot in any hospital again."
Instead she left me in that room for about twenty minutes while my anxiety built and then came back to tell me I'd need to empty my whole colon before they'd be able to see anything based on the way my new anatomy lays.
I got off the table, grabbed Nate, and told him I had to empty my colon over the weekend before we tried again. In my head all I could think was, "so I just paid an extremely ridiculous amount of money to see my dark room, a place that once held my dreams and now looks like a fire took down the entire thing?"
We returned home Friday with a call from the doctor saying there was an infection in my urine and once my colon was clear we'd go back in to find the source of the insurmountable pain.
I crawled into bed Friday and while I made trips to the restroom, for the most part, laid in bed in pain or slept through the weekend. At about 5:45 on Sunday evening I got up to have more water and I started to cry finally sharing with Nate how traumatizing the ultrasound had been for me.
I'm not sure why it hit me so hard but it was awful and I hope to never visit again.
Can I tell you a secret? I'm scared. I'm so so scared. I wonder when the pain is going away. I tried starting a new job this week and had to pull back because I am still a wreck physically and now with complications and more tests I'm worried about our finances. I'm scared I will never not be sad. Many people will tell me the answer to that is counseling but again, more financial resources and what if it just leaves me here. I'm committed to trying it but I still feel so much pain physically, emotionally, mentally... Lastly, can I tell you that a lot of days I'm just scared to be on my own. With Nate at work and me at home I run scared, thinking of the empty room and trying to take care of my pain. Last week I went into a store to buy a birthday present for a friend and I spent probably 20 minutes looking at the JellyCat stuffed animals wondering if there was some way to send s telepathic message to Nate that we needed one. Is that not the most ridiculous thing? I just turned 31 and I need a stuffed animal? It kinda just shows the depths of the brokenness. Will you please pray for us?