HSG Part II – My Period

After I left the doctor’s office, I wandered down to Radiology. The Registration Desk of Radiology was a box office like the ones you find at night clubs. “This looks dodgy,” I chuckled while getting into the small line-up in front of the window.

I was next.

I watched while the lady in the box office patiently explained to an elderly couple what to do before a certain procedure. She spoke slowly and enunciated key words carefully. She looked to check if the elderly couple understood while pointing at the information on the consent form. The elderly couple listened and nodded like pupils, and occasionally they looked at one another as if to make sure they heard the same thing.

“Next!” She called.

I sent my health insurance card along with the paper work through the gap under the glass. The motion felt so familiar I almost crouched down slightly and said, “For one, please.” She took a look at the paper work, stood up from her chair, and said, “Did your doctor tell you this procedure is done 3 to 5o days after your period?”

“I know.” I felt body heat on my right arm and, in my peripheral vision, I could see the top of a head.

Two bodies invaded my personal space from the right side. A small lady was practically right up against my right arm and I could smell her scalp. Behind her was a middle-aged dude with a pair of flip-flops and about 4 other men and women, all rubbernecking to read what was said on my paper work.

“When was your last period?” The box office lady asked matter-of-fact-ly.

Normally I don’t care. I mean, I discuss and joke about periods -- my own and my friends’, but not in public and definitely not with some creepy middle-aged dude listening in.

“*****” I looked down and mumbled the date from one side of my mouth.

“*****” she gladly announced, “So that’s one, two….” she started counting the number of days on a calendar.

Uncomfortable and frustrated, I gave the small lady a slight nudge, trying to get her to go away. What was I thinking?! This is Taiwan!

“Infertility, huh?” the small lady caught a glimpse of my paper and asked out loud (If you’ve heard how loudly Taiwanese people talk, you know how loud it was. If you haven’t, just imagine a kid asking an inappropriate question in public). I heard a collective sigh of relief and the line loosened up instantaneously. The lady was staring right at me for confirmation while I looked at her in disbelief. She was cramped up against my right arm, and obviously she felt no need for apologies for invading my personal space and definitely not for nosing in a business that didn’t concern her.

Unable to bear the awkward silence that lingered in the small space of air between me and the small lady, the middle-aged man decided to join in. “Yeah, it’s very common nowadays, especially among women like her.”

They continued talking about how wrong it is for modern women to choose to have children later in life. I could feel the stir-up in the center of my torso rushing to my head. I let out a big puff of air through my nose.

“It’s too late now,” the box office lady declared. “You’ll have to give us a call when your next period comes.”

“Okay.” I just wanted to get out of here. I reached for my paper work.

“Did your doctor explain to you how this procedure is done?” She offered.

“Yes, he did. It’s okay. Really! I’m sure they’ll explain to me again on the day of my appointment. Thank you very much. Do I need to take anything with me or I can just leave now?”

“Let me write down the telephone number here. Remember to call us on the first day of your next period so we can get you in for an appointment in time.” She held up the piece of paper and started reading the telephone number. “Call this number: 8472-…”

“Thanks. I can read that myself.” I snatched the paper out of her hand and headed for the pharmacy (which is right across from the box office, about 10 steps away).

“Miss! Miss!” I fought the urge but, like every woman in the proximity, I turned to see if I was the Miss but immediately regretted doing so.

It was the small lady and she was half walking and half running.

She stopped when she was about 6 steps away from me. “They want to know if you want to sign the consent form for that infertility treatment now or later?”

Every pair of eyes in the waiting area looked up and scanned me from head to toe.

I headed back to the box office. Behind me, the people were talking under their breath. I heard the small lady said, “It was me who saw the word “infertility” on her paper...”