I’m lying on the paper-covered bed in the tiny room the very nice double named ultrasound tech escorted me into. We’re making awkward small talk as I push my slacks down and arrange the towel across my belly.
ULTRASOUND TECH: You had a hysterectomy but you’re still having a period?
ME: Yup. That’s why the doc sent me here.
UT: That doesn’t make sense. Let’s see what we’ve got going on here.
She squirts the warm goo on my belly and starts the scan.
UT: You’re not very full.
ME: Sorry. I did drink the 40 oz. of liquid. Should I drink more?
UT: This should be fine.
We continue with the silly small talk while she’s scanning and we’re both looking at the screen. She asks what brought us to Tennessee. I launch into the short long version of why, she’s nodding - and then she pauses. There’s a weird moment and then she asks me if I was sure the doctor took out my uterus.
ME: Yup. Totally sure! I have picture of it. Why?
She points at the screen I’m already looking at and says -
UT: Well here’s your ovary…
I see an ovary looking shadow. She moves the wand -
UT: and here’s what looks like your uterus.
And she points at a womb looking shadow.
My jaw hits the floor, and my breath ceases to exit my body. I am speechless. I have never been speechless before. There are literally no words coming from my mouth and no words forming in my brain. Not one.
Eventually my brain restarts and I stutter -
Me: Um…WHAT? I have a… a… what?
UT: I’m not sure.
ME: Do they grow back?
ME: But… I… she… A WHAT? But I have a picture of…
UT: This doesn’t make sense.
And then a thought crosses my mind.
ME: Could I be… Am I pregnant?
UT: Well, if you have a uterus and you’ve been having unprotected sex it would be possible.
I start laughing. Hard. The situation is so absurd I can’t do anything else. A uterus AND a baby. So awesome!
She pokes around a bit more but the only things that keep appearing on the screen were the lone ovary and the shadow she thinks is my uterus. She tells me I’ve not got a lot of liquid in me so the scan isn’t that accurate. She’s going to do a second one, the transvaginal one. Yea for me.
She leaves the room to let me change for ultrasound part two. I get myself ready and grab my phone to text husband.
I send my text and lie back. I can't stop giggling - though there is a manic tone to the sound. I feel the phone buzz with text after text but UT comes back in before I can read them I’m in slight hysterics at the thought of what husband's face must have looked like when he read the text and at the bizarre state of affairs I find myself in; half dressed on a paper-covered table with a possible regrown womb. The UT isn't smiling. She’s upset with herself for blurting. I reassure it’s fine. I joke with her that I’m just trying to figure out what they took out instead. Am I missing a kidney or part of my liver? Was I a rare two-womb woman and no one caught it until now? At what point do I call the surgeon and tell her she screwed up. If it did re-grow, am I one for the medical books? Could I end up on Good Morning America with my look-a-like Robin Roberts?
Side note for all you lucky men and ladies who haven’t had the pleasure of a Transvaginal Ultrasound, it’s not enjoyable. Not one part of it is fun, not the please insert this into yourself part, not the moving about this way and that way to get a proper picture of your ovary and not the holding it at a very awkward angle for a very long time to get an audio recording of the ovarian artery. Not fun at all.
Many very uncomfortable and silent minutes later – silent except for awkward tittering bursts of laughter from me - UT finishes poking and pulling and taking pictures of all that might be inside me and leaves the room with them to let the radiologist have a look. She asks me not to change until she gets back.
It’s at this point I read husbands panic texts and start laughing again. I might get my Kitchen Bet winnings because I think this has totally scared him into getting his vasectomy. A win - of sorts. UT comes back into the room. She apologizes again for the blurt, tells me she’s in trouble for telling me anything, that I’ll get the results sent to me and then she tells me I can get dressed. I reassure her again that it’s fine, that it’s been an interesting time and I jokingly ask her if I’m going to need another hysterectomy. She leans down and pats me on my shoulder to reassure me but it feels like her subtext is - you poor dear.
UT: There is no uterus.
ME: Phew! Then…?
UT: You just have a really prominent cervix.
It takes me a moment to process this. Did she say I have a really prominent cervix? Does that mean… I am African American after all… I am speechless again but this time because I’m laughing so hard I'm snorting and can't breath. When words finally form a sentence, I speak -
ME: So, a prominent cervix huh? Can I put that on a resume?
My name is ej. I'm a girl. I say that because with the short hair and the short initials, folks aren't always sure. More brilliant insights to who I am in About me