July 14th, 2010 by Kateastrophe

Let’s move on to more fun topics.  Like the humiliation of Kate.  Whee!

There are lots and lots of over-sharing type stories to tell from my “experience.”  A new level of humiliation occurs the first time your husband attends an OB/GYN appointment with you and it only gets worse after that.  My low occurred in a dark “water closet” and I can’t imagine the actual having a baby part where, as sweet Molly put it, EVERYONE At THE HOSPITAL SEES YOUR BUTT - and other parts.  And frankly?  You just don’t care.  I haven’t had that experience but I can see why you don’t care because there were moments when I didn’t.

Then there was this morning.  I had an appointment to follow-up with my doctor and make sure my body had taken care of what it needed to take care of, if you know what I mean.  It’s been two weeks and we are crossing our fingers that I won’t need a D&C (which I don’t think I do, but you have to check.)  My appointment was at 8:00 am and I arrived promptly at 7:55.  At 8:00 three or four pregnant girls waddled in and signed in after me.  Then, one by one, the pregs all got called back.  And I sat there.  And sat there.  And watched pregnant girl after pregnant girl go in and out, in and out.  Finally, fifty-five minutes (that’s right, five minutes short of an hour) later I was called back.  I went into the ultrasound room, followed directions, took of my pants, covered myself with the paper sheet and sat down on the uncomfortable chair. Then I waited.  And waited.  Then the blessed knock at the door!  Ah, sweet relief.

Or not.

It was the nurse.  The doctor had snuck out the back door to go deliver a baby “real quick.”  Those were her words.  “Real quick.”  I could either wait for him to get back or I could reschedule.  Now in my brain I was like “wait a minute.  Real quick?  Like, oh I’m just going to run to the hospital, catch this baby and run back?  That doesn’t HAPPEN.”  My Mom pushed (PUSHED!) for three hours.  I knew babies don’t just slide on out but the nurse said 20 minutes or so and by this time it was almost 9:15.  Like crap I was going to reschedule to do this whole circus over again.  So she told me to stay in the chair and wait for the doc. 

Remember how I had no pants on?  Yeah, I had no pants on.  So I grabbed my iPod touch and my Blackberry and sat in that uncomfortable chair naked from the waist down playing games and checking Facebook.  And I waited, and waited, and waited.  On an uncomfortable chair with no pants.  Finally at 10:00 the blessed knock on the door!

Or not.  Take two.

The nurse again.  “Yeah, the doctor just called and things aren’t . . .moving along like he had hoped.  So he’s going to be a while.  The soonest we can see you is 1:30.”

By this time I had missed two hours of work, sat in the ultrasound room (which reminded me of nothing but my miscarriage and made me sad) WITH (have I mentioned) NO PANTS ON for 45 minutes and I’d had it.  I just started sobbing.  The nurse got a shocked look on her face and started apologizing, then giving me excuses, then telling me other people had to wait when they made time for my emergency appointment . . . blah blah blah.  None of that mattered at all to me and I really don’t know why sobbing was my reaction, but it was.  Pants-less sobbing in the ultrasound room.  Awesome.

So, with green and black make-up (PS, the M.A.C. color Humid is awesome - unless you cry) smeared down my face I walked out to the front area to reschedule my appointment.  I happened to get behind someone who had their entire medical history in a canvas bag and she was showing the receptionist and the nurse her charts and x-rays and reports one.at.a.time while I stood behind her crying, waiting for about seven minutes for her to finish so I could just reschedule my damned appointment already.  I finally got it rescheduled for next Monday.  They all kept apologizing and all I could think about, despite everything I could have been mad or sad or even ponderous about, was how humiliating it was to sit in a room - by myself - for 45 minutes with no pants.

As long as I know where my priorities are, I guess we’re good.  I wonder if I should wear a skirt on Monday?