Finding Humor in an RE Visit

You know this drill....

You're sitting in the RE office waiting room. Everyone buried in their book or magazine. Silence that could cut glass.

The waiting room door opens and the cheerful nurse announces, "Debbie....come on back."

You go back, pee if you need to, go into the room and are given your instruction, which for me has slimmed down to 2 words...."Waist. Down." I know the drill.

I take off my pants and underwear and neatly fold them on the chair. I am not sure why I feel the need to hide my underwear when the doc is about to come in and get a full frontal shot.

I digress....

I hop up on the table and cover myself in the sheet. I try and tuck it around my backside because my shirt isn't coming down quite far enough and I feel like I am going to moon my doc right as he walks in the room.

My legs hang over the end of the table and I kick them around a little. I look down at those little cotton stirrup covers donning the brand of some drug company logo and am thankful I remembered to wear socks because they are getting pretty funky. The white white is gone and instead have a brownish tint and little pulls in the cotton. I am just glad I don't have to put my bare feet in them. Don't these drug companies make enough money they can get my doc some new ones?

So, I sit there and gaze up at the Chinese Conception Chart posted on the wall and find the month conceived and my age and see if I am having a girl or boy. I begin to wonder - so "month conceived" I wonder if that means really when this baby was conceived....because that would have been September when I did my egg retrieval and the eggs were fertilized, but now it is November when I'm doing my frozen cycle, so hmmmm...which one should I use???

And then I hear a door close and my doctor's voice and I wonder if he is coming in my room, so I straighten up my posture and get my sheet on just right, and then I hear him enter another room and begin talking to another patient.

Slouch. Back to my Chinese Conception Chart. So where was I? Oh yeah...September or November? Well, let's just look at both. I am having a girl either way. Perfect!

My eyes gaze over to the infertility literature on the wall and I think about how I read that very brochure 2 years ago when I first walked in this office. Didn't they get some new materials by now?

And then I looked at the pile of condoms (or ultrasound protection thingies) laid out on the table. And the ultrasound gel. And how one day I would have immaturely giggled at the thought of KY and Condoms at the doctor's office and probably even contemplated stealing some for my personal use.

I look at my watch. How freakin' long have I been sitting here??? It has to have been at least 15 minutes. Seriously....why can't they just leave me to my People magazine out in the waiting room if my doc isn't ready???

And then I realize there is a stack of magazines on the counter. Ok, perfect. I can read one here. Of course it's not People, but "Cooking Light" should having something interesting. And then I pause. I look at the distance to the counter and know that given my luck, my doctor is going to walk in at the very moment I am off the table and darting across the room, bare ass, to get my Cooking Light magazine. Or maybe I make it back to the table and start reading it....what am I supposed to do with the magazine when he comes in and is ready for the exam. Put it on my stomach??? Throw it on the floor??? Keep reading??? At this point, I probably could.

So I stay put and stare longingly at the Cooking Light magazine from afar. Is that a lemon tarte recipe???

I look back at my watch and surely it's been 25 minutes by now. Should I go out there? I am going to say something this time. I mean - this is ridiculous. I know his time is valuable, but mine is too. I am supposed to be at work right now. I have shit to do. I am going to say something this time.....

I hear some rumbling outside my door. Sounds like he is reading my chart. I'm sure he is thinking, "oh yeah, here's my pain in the ass patient who can't understand why she's had 2 miscarriages." He opens the door and says, "Hey Deb! I'm so sorry you're back, but I always enjoy seeing your smiling face" letting me know he remembers me and he cares.

My tough-guy act of cussing him out for making me wait and not valuing my time disappears as I laugh with him at the struggle we've been through...together. I can't be mad at him because my future is in his hands. He is my chance at a baby. I really do feel like he wants this to work almost as bad as I do. And I love him for that.