…..Okay, so I didn’t really punch my dentist.
It was my dental hygienist.
And I didn’t punch her….but I dreamed about it. In vivid detail. For my full twenty-five minute cleaning. Please read the following transcription of my appointment (with a few slight misquotes, because I forgot my tape recorder at home that day).
Hygienist: So, the last time you were in, we didn’t do X-Rays because you thought you might be pregnant. I take it that didn’t work out?
Me: Um, pardon me? (Or, WTF, lady??)
Hygienist: You thought you might have been pregnant. You’re not, right? So we can do X-Rays?
Me: Sure. X-ray away. (Bitch, what if I had miscarried?)
Hygienist: So, do you have any kids?
Me: (muffled) No, but not for lack of trying.
Hygienist: Sorry, what? (removes hands from my mouth)
Me: NO, I’m infertile. We’re working on it.
Hygienist: Oh, well my sister in law had problems getting pregnant, and blah blah blah blah blah IVF and blah blah blah injections. But then my best friend tried for a year to get pregnant, and blah blah blah blah no medication, blah blah blah and then they just stopped trying, and she got pregnant with twins!
Me: No shit.
I understand that we as infertiles are not alone. I fully appreciate that there are others out there who know what we’re going through and can sympathize with some of the pain. But please, do not carelessly ask me if my suspected pregnancy “worked out”. Please don’t forcibly restrain me, shove sharp tools in my mouth, make me bleed, and rattle off a list of every painful “Just relax” cliche. Most importantly, don’t THEN tell me I have a cavity, and while checking to make sure that it is actually as painful as I say, tell me all about how it was your twins’ first day at school today, and how you ‘Just can’t imagine my precious babies all grown up.” Bite me. (Actually…I bit her. A few times. On purpose.)