Pontificum Scriblerus

Nurse Mary called and informed me that I'm surging. (What a pretty image, by the way, Sasha is surging... Makes me think of Boticelli's Venus in the seashell on the crest of a wave). So, I did get to shoot up after all, so if you had your eye on the Ovidrell, sorry. IUI tomorrow. With the female doctor this time - and I'm a little disappointed. Isn't that perverted?!

The most memorable moment of the last cycle was when, two days late, and while staring at a stick that was just starting to turn colors, negative colors, I got a text message from an acquaintance: " SHE IS HERE! Little Monica, 6 lb 10 oz." My first reaction was to look around the bathroom stall for the candid camera; my second and unprecedented reaction was an outburst of violence manifested by a powerful slam of the bathroom stall door - which turned out a less than optimal release because it was one of those loose hinge doors that just swung right through, without the satisfying bang. So it's cycle day #11, I have some Ovadrel in my purse I could probably sell to you. I brought it with me in the case that my follicles were ready to pop, so I could shoot up in the bathroom and be ready for the troops over the weekend. But the follicles are still in infant stages. Not one that's over 2 cm. I knew I didn't feel bloated enough this week to have good follicles!...

As physicians, we have to become relatively hardened to the misfortunes of others because if we don't, we will fall apart. Again, it's like that Ray Bradbury story about the being who'd morph into someone you lost to make you happy; eventually, too many people needed him, and he melted... Every once in a while, though, someone just gets to you, the barriers collapse, you stop seeing them as a patient, and start seeing them as a person. I hate when that happens. When I was an intern on Onc, I had a patient who had colon cancer; he was in for... something... I don't recall. He was a nice man. Halfway through his state, he suddenly lost his eyesight - temporarily - as a side effect of his chemo. He was extremely distressed about that, obviously. He kept saying, "But I'm an engineer!" His wife was a nurse in the PACU, and she'd come visit him, and chat with the floor nurses. He was just like any other patient. Until one night I was going home, dropping ...

As I was standing in the unprecedentedly long cafeteria line, almost doubled over by my incessant hunger pangs, and experiencing what can only be described as "cafeteria line rage," I realized: it's TOTALLY the Clomid.

I don't know what's been happening; I don't know if it's because of my recent non-compliance, or if the Clomid is feeding genetically altered crack to the hormonal monster inside , or if it's because of this weather... [I read on some blog the other day: "I'm feeling like I am in a Bradbury story , where it's always raining, and I'm trappped in the closet when the sun comes." I thought, WHY didn't I think of it first... it's perfect. That's exactly how it is when summer solstice is shrouded in wet gray, and there is no end in sight.] So, I don't know why, but I've been feeling these old sensations... Like, anger so intense that I can't feel my legs. Anxiety that makes my heartbeat agitate my eardrums and soaks me in cold sweats. Road rage. The familiar hourly night time dates with the bedside clock: it's 11. It's 12. It's 1. Still awake... Ceiling. Blanket. And pains in my chest on a nightly basis relieved on...

By the end of last week, my brains resembled a wild safari mating ball. "Clearing your mind," "Letting it go..." these are things that are much easier said than done. Unless, of course, you have another reason to brood and ferment bad moods into evil humors. Have I mentioned, this is cycle day #6? I have a cute little blisterpack of Clomid in the kitchen, right next to the oranges, and I have a syringeful of Ovadrel marinating in the fridge. Every once in a while, I'll admonish the hubby to put his ear to my belly in an effort to investigate the possibility of any evil cysts forming, and if so, shoo them away. To get my womb in the spirit of things, I attended my very first ever baby shower. (That it's my first ever is pretty unbelievable, considering the crowd of people I know who have made the pilgrimage to the delivery room in the last 2-3 years. Either my friends and acquaintances don't do showers, or, I have no friends... or acquaintances...) ...

Granted, my meeting with the program director was a little out of control. I'm not the type of person who speaks her mind, more like the type that bites her tongue (although, according to some, it doesn't really matter if I say anything or not, because all my thoughts are written all over my face); and I certainly wasn't planning to march in there and tell him off. But the more he oozed his passive aggressive disapproval of me, and the more left handed feedback and putdowns poorly disguised as light banter, the more pissed off I got. I practically had blood in my mouth from biting my tongue back, until he finally got through the "positive" portion of the talk, and on to actual criticism, which was just too much for me to handle. In retrospect, aside from his unbelievably poor desk-side manner, and blatant paternalistic sexist undertones, he didn't offer me any new criticisms. But, I guess, so many months of my mulling over various injustices, created a mo...

PD: how do you think you did? me: It's not been a good year. him: no it's been rocky. me: yes, but I've been trying. him: (nods) Any weaknesses in the program? me: well... the didactic sessions are a weakness. I think they are at the wrong time of the day, and too often canceled. It's kind of a global problem so I don't know how you'd fix that... him: well, you could show up. me: :-| him: I mean, your attendance has been incredibly poor. (makes big eyes) me: My attendance has been poor because I'm always on service! Ask the attendings I'm with! On service there is no day you get done on time! him: well ... me: months when I'm free, I go. The two months I had free I went to conference. him: yes, I know it's busy on service. (shakes head sympathetically) me: (adjust in my seat) him: anything you want to work on in the next 6 months? me: Well, I'd like to finally start reading. him: Yes! me: And I heard next year's rotations are a little mor...

When I was little, on occasion, my mom would bring me with her to work, usually during summers when her duties were mostly administrative, and I was out of school/kindergarden. One such day, I was with her at work watching as she was trying to sell a dress. Why would she sell a dress at a technical high school? Well, communist Russian stores didn't usually honor a return policy, so if you bought something you didn't like, or that didn't fit, you usually tried to hand it off to someone else for the same price or less. Or more - depending on your business sense, I guess, even though technically in those times business sense was illegal. Not technically, actually, but quite literally: "speculation" was a serious offense. ANYWAY. She was trying to unhand a dress to a co-worker. It was a purple crepe affair with a knee length pleated skirt, long poofy sleeves with buttoned cuffs, a belt that tied and some sort of polka dot design. It was on a hanger, hanging on a ...

I need to know right now why it is that no one seems to feel obligated to do their work. I mean, I'm SORRY if I called in a tech to do a procedure, and the patient is having chest pain, so the procedure is delayed, and the tech has to sit around and wait. You can just go right ahead and save the eye rolling and under-your-breath swearing for your mother, ok? You're on call and you get paid for this, paid EXTRA, I should say, while the attending and I are here, and we don't leave until everyone is tucked in. The worst part is, I have this overwhelming urge to pander and apologize, so that everyone likes me again. What should I have done? Tell the patient not to have chest pain? Get the cardiologists to drop all their other patients with heart attacks to come see this one? Or just go ahead and undertake a risky procedure so YOU can go home on time?? I mean, fuck, we're talking about taking care of people! So unbunch your panties, please, and grace us with the favor of doi...

I used to wonder how the technician doesn't get grossed out doing a million trans-vaginal ultrasounds on menstruating women when just the word "menstruating" alone makes me cringe - and I'm the doctor around here! (I prefer simple terms: on the rag, for example.) Now I know. It's all very proper and sterile, like sex in a church. You cover yourself up with a crisp hospital sheet; the tech knocks on the door. Once she knows you're decent, she enters. It's important to have the outside of the coochie primly covered even though we're about to catch a sneak peak of its interior. She puts the condom (yes, condom) onto the ultrasound probe; then, she hands it to you and says, "Now go ahead and insert that." (I'm sure she was trained not to say "put that in" because that sounds wrong and might offend the patient's delicate sensibilities. Other things you're not supposed to say: "why don't you scooch down and spr...

For a while now my family has been first hinting, then suggesting, then ordering and then blackmailing me, to the effect that I need to find a shrink to talk my troubles away. Dear loved ones, I offer you this in my defense. I had a nightmare last night. I know it was a nightmare because I woke up shaky, and after a few seconds, when I realized that I was awake, I felt great relief. I dreamt that I was still working at my other hospital, where I was a resident. I dreamt that I was sleeping the best sleep ever. Then, I woke up, and took a leisurely shower, did my hair in front of the mirror, put on make up. Then I glanced at the clock, and realized it was 2:30 in the afternoon. A painfully familiar rush of cold anxiety washed over me. Because it was a dream, though, the intensity of it reached metaphysical proportions. My heart in my throat and my entrails on the floor... I was supposed to be somewhere! I missed the whole workday! What's the point of hurrying in now when all the pa...

Sasha gets inseminated, hilarity ensues. Naturally, about a week after the IUI, I was already swearing up and down to God that I felt different; I was clearly nauseous, and my boobs were obviously enlarged, and I was conspicuously bloated - all things consistent with pregnancy (of course, also consistent with PMS, but the power of wishful thinking is uncanny enough to completely undermine that simple truth). Now,I SWORE to myself that I wouldn't waste time, money or energy on home pregnancy tests when I'd be getting an industrial grade test instead: the serum HCG. But oaths, much like rules, are meant to be broken - at least in my case - because no sooner than the 7 day mark, which is when the feeble embryo supposedly has made way down the perilous path of the Fallopian tubes and has found itself a little nest in the endometrium, where it begins to make HCG, did I have a package of EPT in my pocket every time I went to pee. Well - not quite. Out of pure desire for experiment...

Today, it seems, everyone around me is pregnant. It's true. I counted. I saw approximately 2 pregnant women per hour during the periods of time I was outside of the endoscopy suite or the fellows' office; this is about 4 or 5 hours of time, so figure, 10 pregnant women, just in one morning. Meanwhile, I'm coasting along what seems to be the longest cycle ever! And not in a good way...

I walked in to the most curious scene yesterday morning. My husband, foamed up with shaving gel (spring raspberry scent), was depilating his face with my Venus Devine. What's wrong with this picture? He NEVER shaves with a razor! He has a fancy bathroom face hygiene bot with an LCD display and 90 minute battery time instead. My Venus Devine is not equipped to deal with such harsh terrain.... Or is it? Who'm I kiddin'... Anyway, the result was delightful. I rubbed my cheek against his and exclaimed with glee: Like a bottom! "A baby's bottom?" He said, hopefully. "I don't know whose bottom, but my bottom is tingling right now, you're so sexy!" I answered. "And shaving with a pink razor that has a moisturizing strip does not make you less of a man in any way at all whatsoever." Some time later, we decided to go out for the afternoon, and as we were making our way down the long hallway to the elevator, he offered, "I like th...

In the tradition of my people, I raise my eyes up to the heavens, shake my fists, and cry, with pain and despair: "Why me! Why me!" Because I’m a pussy who doesn’t think before she acts I am a conscientious person and a physician with a sense of responsibility to the community, I decided on a whim to go get swabbed for H1N1, popularly known as the swine flu. Someone suggested it, it wasn't even my idea! But look: I went to the Carribean; I started feeling sick 5 days ago, I have a scratchy throat, stuffed nose, cough, and a headache that feels like my right eye is about to get blown out. Plus, I'm fatigued, but I'm always fatigued. Before I know it, I was wearing a mask, and getting a q tip inserted farther than I'd like to admit, and the employee health nurse was informing me in a compassionate voice that I cannot return to work today, and what's more, I cannot return to work until I am symptom free for 24 hours. Let me set the backdrop: there is a ...

Way back when I was a student, and used to write papers, I learned a neat trick. If you don't know how to start an essay, you start it by saying, "I don't know where to begin," or some such. I don't know where to begin, or how to delve into this particular piquant topic, which, by the way, is losing its delicate status by the day. I sort of dropped a bomb a few weeks ago, something about getting inseminated, and although the post was about something else, I feel perhaps I need to explain. Now, you might recall how some time ago I had quoted a conversation with a friend, in which I explicitly state that I find the whole reproduction and pregnancy "thing" highly embarrassing. That is, until I started to want a baby, and then, reproduction and pregnancy were all I'd think about. Pregnant women and kids were EVERYWHERE. I counted. In the last 2 years, 15 people I know have procreated at least once, and some went for seconds. I practically lactated ...

So, today, I had the biggest trouble getting out of the house for one simple reason: I have forgotten my routine completely. I forgot what I needed to tak with me to work, which is impressive because there are really only a few things that are essential. Those things are: pager, ID.... and really, that's it. On the other hand, once I got to work, and wanted to sign my pager in, instead of dialing 77 to access the system here, I dialed 234, which was the number to access the system at my old hospital. It's been two years since I used it last. Discuss amongst yourselves.