What We Have Here, is a Failure to Communicate!

C. is always so great at comforting me. Even as I was running through all the different scenarios that were about to take place when we reached the imaging center, and as I was on the verge of tears, he was able to take my hand, give me “the look” and immediately put me at ease. The ultrasound tech chatted with us as we walked back to the exam room… “will this be your first?” We both beamed and as we quickly answered “yes.” I found myself recoiling after what had become our automatic answer…the deep knot in my stomach tightened its grip.

The only way I can describe the preceding 10 minutes is hell. Sheer and utter hell. As soon as she placed the wand on my belly, and there was no sound, I knew. I knew it was all over and I had to summon every ounce of my strength not to start crying. She quickly switched over to the intravaginal wand…maintaining her blank stare at the screen. And then, it was over. We quickly left the imaging office and were instructed to go directly back to the PCP’s office. She would be the one to “review the results” with us. I burst into deep sobs, C. looked directly at me and said: “Don’t you even dare blame yourself. Don’t even think about it.”

We numbly walked back into the office and were ushered to a waiting room. I hated that room…it’s cheery yellow walls, tiny chalkboard with a cutsey picture of two stick figures holding hands drawn on it. At that point, I wanted to be in a black room. No windows. No lights. Because that’s how I felt on the inside. Empty and dark.

What followed was a conversation that included the words bicornuate, heart-shaped uterus, molar pregnancy and potential to be cancer, embryo no longer viable, missed miscarriage and concluded with…“We can try to get you in for a D & C yet today.” I was numb.

The clinic I was at quickly scheduled me for surgery at a near-by hospital that afternoon. I was thankful that it became such a whirlwind of running here and there because it took my mind away from the true gravity of the situation. C. called my boss and told her I wouldn’t be back in to work and contacted our insurance company to get the details of our coverage for the procedure. Once again, he was my knight in shining armor. He held my hand until the nurse came to walk me back to the OR. Two hours later. It was all done…or so we thought.

For some reason, in the hurried communication between the family practice physician and ultrasound tech that I was doctoring with and the OB that performed my surgery, it wasn't mentioned that I had a bicorunate or possibly septate uterus. Oops! Minor detail, right?! I continued to bleed heavily all weekend after the surgery and into the next week, so I was summoned back for yet another round of ultrasounds, exams and bloodwork. It was discovered that only one lobe of my messed-up womb had been cleared during the surgery the previous week. Another D and C was scheduled for that Friday...exactly one week later.