Bump In the Road

Well, I survived. And to be honest - it wasn't as horrible as I had prepared for. I arrived about twenty minutes early so that I could sit in the waiting room a minute and be forced to act rationally. Most doctor's offices have tiny, overly crowded, hot, stinky lobbies - accept this one. It's huge and cold with plenty of seats. As I walked in the room, a loud TV in the corner roared with the sounds of laughter. Ellen was on - how could anyone have anxiety with Ellen on the television? I took a seat in an area by myself and thumbed through the new Parents I just received in the mail this morning. One woman on the other side of the room complained about someones Cadillac taking two parking spots. Wonderful.

When my name was called, the anxiety kicked in. GET IT TOGETHER WIMPY MOM!! Now this room was tiny, claustrophobic. The little Russian man who would be conducting the ultrasound instructed me to remove everything from the waist up and put on the paper blouse. He informed me we would be preforming an ultrasound of my heart as well as my thyroid. Routine check-ups, he explained. He instructed me to lay on my left side with my left hand holding up my head. And then came the ultrasound machine. Little, un-alarming, quiet - the machine looked harmless enough. So why did my wimpy mom heart skip a beat?

And this is when things flipped a switch. Mr. Russia asked if I could hold my left breast up so that he could hold the ultrasound wand under my breast. Excuse me? Now, remember that I had nothing on under my paper blouse. When he saw the look of confusion in my eyes, his cheeks flushed and it all became crystal clear - Mr. Russia was more nervous than me. What a relief! From this point on, I decided to focus my attention and energy on making Mr. Russia as comfortable as I could by keeping all my body parts covered.


The heart ultrasound went fine - less than 10 minutes passed and he told me my ticker looked great. He checked it from three angles: from the front of my chest, just slightly to the left of my sternum, then from under my left breast, and then up through my stomach (I know - strange). I was so distracted by trying to keep Mr. Russia's cheeks from burning that the sound of a heart beating through the ultrasound machine only caught my breath once. Thank god for being half naked. 

Example of a thyroid ultrasound - while fully clothed.

Then came time for the thyroid ultrasound. I was asked to tilt my chin towards the ceiling to expose as much of my neck as possible. And as soon as the ultrasound wand touched the right side of my trachea, I knew something was wrong. I felt as though Mr. Russia was choking me with the wand, pushing it so hard into my neck that it was gagging me. I quickly asked Mr. Russia if there was something wrong, and he quietly informed me that there was a "bump" on the right side of my thyroid gland. A... bump? What the hell did that mean? I asked him how big it was and he kindly informed me that my doctor would have to give me that information. I let him know I was uncomfortable and he finished quickly, informing me that the left side of my thyroid was "bump free". He left the room after instructing me to get dressed. 

When the door shut, I stood and dressed quickly. All I could think about was how quick could I get to the check out desk so that I could schedule the first appointment available with my GP. I opened the door with a vengeance and was about to leave without  my paperwork. Mr. Russia gave me a nervous nod of the head for goodbye as I rushed out the door.



The "Bump"



The woman at the check out counter asked me to sign the paperwork and let me know I was good to go and the doctor would call me. Without thinking twice, I barked out what Mr. Russia had told me about the "bump" and asked when I could schedule a time to see my doctor. I guess the wimpy mom took a break for a moment because the look on the woman's face let me know I was being rather abrupt. I smiled gently in apology and let her know that I was trying to conceive and didn't want to waste any time if there was something wrong. Kindness never returned to her face, but she informed me that it would take a week for the results to come back so we scheduled an appointment for exactly seven days from today.



As soon as the door to my Durango was shut, the questions starting running through my mind like a movie reel. Does this mean I am having hormone issues? Could this have been a contributing factor to my miscarriage? Would I need to be on daily medication for the rest of my life? Could it be cancerous? I couldn't drive home fast enough in order to get onto the computer to do some research. I called my husband and let him know what was going on and he gently said we would figure it out (his favorite motto). I suppose he was right - what else was there to do other than to "figure it out"?



Monday morning I have an appointment with my OB/GYN. I had the appointment scheduled already to discuss my conception attempts. I now have a whole new list of questions I have neatly scribbled onto a piece of paper from a Hello Kitty notepad.



For now, I wait. I think I will take my children to see the mermaids this weekend. I could use a little magic.