My medical records arrived in the mail the other day, which was a surprise because I hadn't yet paid for them. I didn't even wait to get back into the house before ripping the package open. I know it may seem odd that I was so anxious to read my medical records, but to me they're like a biography of my infertile life. It's not so much the cycle charts that interest me - I already know that information - it's the doctors' notes that lure me in. The stuff that they never say out loud. The juicy stuff.
As I tore the package open with my teeth, I imagined what I might find inside:
This one's a hottie. She has long, shiny red hair and perfectly straight, pearly white teeth. Such a beautiful smile. And those hips! Ah, those are definitely child-bearing hips. I think we've got ourselves a winner here...
I sat down at the kitchen table and immediately began flipping through page after page after page until I finally found the hand-written notes at the very bottom of the pile. Here's what I read:
spkt o gvidmce pt layina hemsa cervx, vayina, us gribont <10 drmmms pt gmaamle, weillace cath well. 1cc prek blad todoy @ blpsr. x clehner thuncfer procidone tromshered c & pr goink = 8/04.
What the hell? Where's the part about my hips?
The only whole sentence I could decipher out of the twelve full pages of doctor scribble was this:
9/02/04 - Anticipate successful IVF outcome.
Although, it may have said: Patient is a hottie. I can't be sure.
The good news, my friends, is this: Now that we're holding our records in our grubby little fingers, A Plan is in the works. And it feels really good.
