Again, I obeyed, but kept my knees together. My legs weretrembling. My heart was racing. I kept my focus on the kitten.
“Legs apart,” the doctor said as he moved the thin paper higher.
I did as I was told.
“Scoot down a little more.”
I scooted.
“Just a bit more.”
I shifted again, staring at the kitten. Thinking about it. Not about where I was or what the doctor was about to do.
“Good.” He touched the inside of my thighs. “A little wider, please.”
I spread my legs. Stared at the kitten. Thought about only it. Not about what was going on between my legs. There was nothing happening there. It was just me and the kitten.
The illusion was shattered the second the doctor slid the wand inside me, and I squeezed my eyes shut.
Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there.Mentally, I repeated the words like a mantra.
For a few seconds, he moved the wand around, then paused and said, “There’s your uterus.” He moved the wand again. “And ovary number one. Ah, yes. Very nice. I see the corpus luteum and there are the follicles. I count four on this side. Very good.” He shifted the wand, and I squirmed as he searched for my other ovary. “Looks like five on this side. Very nice.”
He slid the wand out of me, and I was able to take a breath.
“Good news!” he exclaimed, but since my eyes were still closed, I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me or Hilary and the nurse. Maybe he was just talking to himself since as far as I could tell, my part in this was little more than that of a human incubator.
“Shall we proceed?” Tasha asked.
“Yes.”
I put my knees together as they moved about the room, preparing things. Metal clanked and cabinet doors opened, and hushed conversations followed, but I kept my eyes closed. I didn’t want to see what they were doing, didn’t want to even think about it. I kept my eyes squeezed shut, kept repeating the same three words over and over.
Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there.
A hand touched my arm, but I still didn’t open my eyes.
“Are you okay?” Hilary asked in a soft voice.
I managed to get out, “I just want to get this over with.”
She gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “It will be over soon enough.”
Soon? I wanted to laugh. Since when did nine months to three years count as soon?
“We’re ready to proceed,” the doctor said, and I once again felt his presence between my legs. “This might be a bit uncomfortable, but it shouldn’t hurt. The best thing you can do is take deep breaths and relax. Okay?”
I nodded, then, not wanting to get chastised again for not giving a verbal response, squeaked out, “Okay.”
A hand tapped my leg. “Spread for me.” I did, then the doctor said, “Catheter.”
Despite his recommendation to relax, my entire body tensed.
I squeezed my eyes tighter, trying to ignore the sensations between my legs. I was sweating, my legs trembling, and my hands were balled into fists, my nails digging into my palms.
Overall, the process didn’t feel much different from the pelvic exams I’d had in the past, but the fact that this was totally against my will made it seem so much more sinister. I felt like I was being used, violated. Like my body wasn’t my own. And I hated every person in the room because of it.
It was over faster than I’d thought possible, and then the doctor slid the catheter from me and pushed his chair back. “All done.”
