Thursday, September 29, 2011

The Doctor...and an 18 year old.



Late in October 1992 I visited my family doctor, The Doctor, telling him excitedly that, after having conducted a urine pregnancy test, I believed I was pregnant. I remember smiling so much my facial muscles were twitching. The Doctor looked at me quizzically and asked me how old I was; I told him (I was a month younger than 22, bless me!). He then stroked his chin, nodded his head and said that he would like to do blood tests as he did not have much confidence in urine tests. Now, even though the main hormone of pregnancy, BHCG is the only hormone that urine pregnancy tests look for, he still doubted the result. So, I obliged him and had a blood test. Afterwards I went home, feeling completely deflated and convinced that I would NEVER fall pregnant. At the time I still had another six months of university. However, darling Hubby and I had planned this pregnancy down to the last month, where, I would finish my final exams in June that year and have the baby by the end of July. Things are supposed to work out the way you plan them aren't they?...

A few days later I received a phone call from The Doctor's secretary asking me to go in as The Doctor was very concerned about my blood test results. Hubby and I left our apartment so quickly we forgot to lock the front door.

Sitting in the waiting room, our legs kept bumping into each other we shook so much. I felt so sick. What if I am not pregnant? What if I can never fall pregnant (for some reason I always thought I would be sterile)...'see, we should have started trying for a baby a year ago, as soon as we were married', I kept repeating to myself 'I am barren!'. As these thoughts became deeper my resentment towards poor hubby escalated and I can only imagine the distraught look on my face decline further with each worsening thought...

'Mervat'...The Doctor called as I was stunned back to reality.

Seating himself behind a big mahogany desk he looked at me over his octagonally-shaped glasses.

'Mervat, we received your blood test results and not only is there (the pregnancy hormone) BHCG...'

'Whooohooooo' I screamed in my mind, 'I'm pregnant!'. My body language though was at a complete contrast, as I sat hands in my lap, my feet flat on the floor, my shoulders slumped forward...I could sense a big BUT coming up...

'...BUT, there is too much BHCG' said The Doctor...'There is so much in fact I think you have  a tumour, and...' remember dear reader, that this was one single blood test, no physical examination, no history, no biopsy of said tumour... 'I believe it is malignant'. The only thing to do from here' he continued telling a desperate-to-fall-pregnant 22 year-old 'would be a hysterectomy'.

This was when his royal highness, The Doctor, sat back in his high-backed leather chair, interlaced his fingers over that big scratched ugly table and breathed down through his nostrils.

Darling hubby grabbed my hand, we stood up and we left the building! Stat!

Even a third year medical student, as my dear hubby was at the time, worked out that this idiot Had No Idea!

We went and found the nearest medical centre, saw someone who was on duty who repeated the urine BHCG test and were promptly told our baby's due date (31st July 1993). We were booked in to our local hospital for regular check-ups immediately.  And no talk of any type of tumour.

After an ice-cream, we made our way back home and walked in through the unlocked front door without batting an eyelid.

****18 years and nine and a half months later*****

I still walk past The Doctor's surgery regularly. In fact, one day, I would like to introduce him to my 18 year old provisional driver tumour...and what a handsome tumour he is!



So, this was going to be a gratuitous post all about my Mr 17-recently-turned-18 year old. Yes, we are now parents to an 18 year old. He is 18..and I can't get my mind around that. Of course we are proud of him and the young man he has become etc, etc...but I can't grasp the fact that he is that age. So much has happened in the last 18 years that if I stop to rewind my mind becomes a blur. And yet, it seems like only months ago I found out I was pregnant...and you now know how that went!


8 comments:

HijabRevival.. said...

what an excellent post!! loved reading every word of this!! thankyou so so much and happy birthday to your handsome son!! inshallah I live to see the day my baby boy is 18!! amin!!

The Writing Instinct said...

HijabRevival: Wow, thank you so much for this very complimentary comment. Best wishes to you and your family.

lunarossa said...

What a horror story! Fortunately with a very happy end! You should have sued that disgraceful doctor! Happy Birthday to you very handsome boy! It is my daughter's birthday today, you know? She's 12! So we have a very nice date in common! Wish you and the birthday boy a great day! Ciao. A.x

The Writing Instinct said...

A, thank you so much for your comment. And, a very happy birthday to your precious daughter too. Hope you have a wonderful celebration xo

Suko said...

Wow! That is an unbelievable story. Luckily, it has a happy ending, and you have a healthy, handsome son!

Anonymous said...

:-) I have sat here trying to work out what to write, but I seem to be at a loss for words.

When I think about your 18 yo, I remember him as a newborn. I remember him as a baby. I remember him as a 1 yo, still learning to walk and falling all over the place. I remember his delight at my singing (and apparently he still feels the same way! :p). I remember so much and my heart bursts with pride when I see the man he is today. I too can't believe that he is 18. I muck around with him and laugh with him and make fun of other people with him (!!) and tell dirty jokes with him, but he is still moumou, the one afraid of the 'beneneh'.

I love you and i love your 18 yo. And I am so proud of your precious boy ... umm man. I am SO proud. What a wonderful person he has turned out to be.

Thank you for bringing him into my life. He made it that much better.

Casey Freeland said...

Such an amazing story. I'm so happy it turned out the way it did. It's astounding this guy was able to continue to practice for 18 years!

By the way, the term "fall pregnant" is new to me. "Get pregnant or "become pregnant" yes. Your verb is much mor active. I guess that's associated with falling sick, which is common.

Happy birthday to your son!

Cheers,

Casey

The Writing Instinct said...

Anon: He is as much yours as ours ;)
xo

Casey: I am glad it turned out the way it did too!

It's an interesting observation that you make re the term 'fall pregnant'. I have never thought about it up until you mentioned it - and the reasoning that it is similar to 'fall sick' is certainly justified. Thanks Casey!

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