A Birth Story, Part V

(Like many Americans, I am thinking about health care and health insurance lately. I’ve really only ever had one major run-in with health issues and the health system, and it was intensive, both literally and figuratively. I had a baby that was born at 25.5 weeks in 2008. He’s a blooming, Minecraft-and-Star-Wars-loving almost-nine-year-old now, but this experience was harrowing and involved. Since my pre-existing conditions are pregnancy and premature labor, and I am guessing I have handed the latter condition down to my boy, I thought I would retell the story. I wrote about it as it happened, and it has been shared on an old blog. Part onePart TwoPart Three. Part Four.)

Happy Birthday Part V: Interior Decorating

Remember when I mentioned that my doctor said “What is that?!” during my second ultrasound?


That was cool.

On Thursday night, I had a visit from a urologist. He appeared in my darkened room while I was dozing off. He explained that he had been referred to me (the doctor had told me he would do this), and wanted to know if I wanted to have the cystoscopy while I was in the hospital or would I rather come back. I decided that I might as well get it over with, so we scheduled me for 11:00 the following morning.

This was a bit terrifying. What if there was something wrong with me? What if it was cancer? What if I needed surgery? What if, what if, what if…? I thought that perhaps Pete and I had plenty on our plate without a sick mommy to add to the mix.

On Friday, they wheeled me down to pre-op, gave me a lovely paper robe that hooked up to a warming air hose, nurse after nurse came to ask me the same questions for their system of checks, and then I waited. Finally, they wheeled me to an operating room through a white fluorescent labyrinth of hallways, and got me onto an operating table. I had not realized that the procedure before the procedure would be so surgical. The doctor had mentioned doing these “in his office all the time.” Here I was in a clinical, cold, rather large operating room, trying to relax.

The doctor came in, they got the camera all hooked up, and in it went, through the out door. As unpleasant as I had always assumed it would be to have anything going into one’s urethra, after two unanticipated visits to that area by first the catheter and now a camera, I would have to say that it was not as bad as I thought it would be. He looked around in there for a few minutes, said that it all looked good and that he did not see anything, and it was done. He recommended that I have an ultrasound in about two weeks to double check.

I just wish that they would have put the camera view up on a monitor. After all, it’s not every day that a person gets to see the inside of his or her own bladder.

Thank goodness.