In Vitro Fertility Goddess

Excerpts

'In Vitro Fertility Goddess' - Excerpt Two

A couple of hours later I am creating a scene of a different kind at a shopping centre, the one where the ultrasound centre is.

Two things have happened, one that the ultrasound showed there was no embryo, just a sac and this was told to me by a radiologist with the manner of the medical receptionist. Secondly, when I rang the private hospital to ask to see the doctor again they said they no longer had an Emergency Ward and I would have to see him in his private rooms.

I am standing outside the ultrasound centre (they closed for lunch or maybe they didn't want me hysterically making calls in their waiting room and upsetting their patients any more). I get through to the receptionist at Dr O's rooms and luckily she is merciful. I get an appointment for 2 this afternoon. This time at the surgery I look worse than all the women in their Andy Pandy mumsy wear, there is no chance of acting superior. I don't see how I can face them let alone sit amongst them and the angelic receptionist (at last!) senses this and puts me in a vacant surgery room.

When I see myself in the bathroom mirror (time to change the pads again - at this rate I could eliminate entire Red Cross blood shortage) I am not human in appearance. Am kind of half woman half beast, and look as if have just gallumphed in from a nearby prairie. This is obviously why they are keeping me in isolation, not for any benevolent reasons. When the doctor actually comes out of his surgery and in here especially to see me it confirms my suspicion. Next in will come the receptionist then I'll be herded out a secret back exit, possibly to waiting van with men in coats.

If Doctor O doesn't remember me he doesn't let on. He is all kindness and reassurance in the face of my histrionic state. He tells me that just because I have had two miscarriages doesn't mean I'll have a third but for best results try and leave it another three months before getting pregnant again. I tell him that shouldn't be hard, it's taken me thirty-eight years to get pregnant twice.

Besides, the thought of ever resuming a sex life again is impossible, given my current feelings of having a burst pipe down there with the entire plumbing in disarray. I feel as if I should be getting underpants with a big skull and crossbones and ‘Warning Do Not Enter' on them or, ‘Doctors Only Beyond This Point…'
 

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