Apparently my brain is becoming more and more mushy as the days go on. Maybe the sedatives from yesterday's procedure haven't quite worn off.
I had the HSG yesterday. All clear. The radiologist thought it was pretty ridiculous for me to be having the test, seeing as I had a healthy conception and pregnancy and Otis's death had nothing to do with my uterus or my fallopian tubes. My OB refers to the RE's protocol as "like a pilot preparing a plane for takeoff, there's just a whole battery of stuff she'll do, it has nothing to do specifically with your circumstance..." Which is a pain in the ass, because I have to do a crapton of testing that isn't necessary, in order to theoretically figure out why my periods are so short right now - but, I suspect it's low progesterone, and until I jump through all her hoops I won't get a treatment protocol for that. It's kind of ridiculous, but whatever. Trying some natural remedy type stuff this month. And I did get a prescription for some calming meds for the days before my period, when the world crashes in. Would rather not take them, but I'd also rather not spend the time in Maui wishing I were dead and screaming and wailing.
I hate my job right now and our trip to Maui can't come sooner, except that we are not at all prepared/packed/ready. I had to go buy a bathing suit yesterday. Umm, let's talk about a perfect storm: postpartum body, in January, needing (not wanting) a bathing suit, and going shopping after having had a fight with E so my face is blotchy and my eyes are bright red...I deserve a medal for finding one and buying it, in less than an hour, and not bursting into tears while shopping.
E and I often fight in the lead-up to a trip, I get anxious about all the stuff that has to be done beforehand, and he does things like PLAN A FUCKING PARTY AT OUR HOUSE FOR THE PLAYOFF GAME TOMORROW (wtf) and then puts off everything until the night before we are supposed to leave, he doesn't sleep at all and we fight until we step on the plane when all is forgiven and we set off on vacation. I so wish we could break that pattern, but it doesn't seem like it's going to happen this time around.
Yesterday when I went to get my HSG, there was a woman in the radiology department, in a wheelchair, holding a newborn-ish baby (I can't seem to figure out baby's ages, I never could, and now, especially, they all just look like Otis to me.) The baby had tubes in her nose, and reminded me so much of Otis. They were being wheeled into a room for an MRI or an Xray or CT scan, and oh, it broke my heart, it made me so sad and reminded me so much of that one day with Otis where he had to go have those tests. But her baby was more alert, it seemed, so I hope and pray all is okay. Then I walk into my procedure room, and the tech asks me, "So, you're getting this HSG, are you trying to get pregnant?" and I stammered...(I have to be careful, if it shows up as an infertility test, my insurance doesn't cover it, but the RE is treating me as an endocrinology patient, not an infertility patient.) So I say, "Well, it's not exactly that simple..." and then when the doctor comes in, I tell them both my whole story. I was surprised at how calm I can now be in telling the story. And it kind of makes me sad that it doesn't cause me to burst into sobs. I remember being at the doctor for my UTI in the month after O was born and I just sobbed any time I had to say anything at all related to my medical history. Now, it's like I'm an old pro.
I feel like I'm dancing around my grief right now. It's there, but it isn't. Instead, I race around, anxious, angry, and short tempered. It's not a good look on me.