A Love Through Time

She's 86. He's in his 80s as well, and he's brought her in for her checkup.

She's started to forget, but her husband assures me he takes care of her medications, and that he makes sure she eats the pills every day. He's driven her here, as he usually does for her doctor's appointments, and I ask if he's still okay to drive, and he assures me he's not had any accidents, although he does complain that people always seem to be rushing and emergency braking these days.

She's got hearing difficulties and smiles at me when I ask her questions, but responds as her husband loudly translates my questions to mandarin. She's due for a hearing aid, her husband tells me, but they're still waiting.

This is their relationship, well into their golden years. He is her caregiver, the one she will rely on as her memory will slowly fade. He is accepting of the fact, but his eyes darken as I gently bring up the possibility that she might forget, forget him and their loved ones on one day.

We should all be so lucky to be loved like that.

Starting Our Infertility Journey

Recently, Behr and I started on our infertility journey. After a year of trying for a child, we realized that we were probably going to be one of those couples that would have some difficulty conceiving.

I went for the first appointment and they organized for some blood tests, a semen analysis and a hysterosalpingogram, which were all done at different times.

Behr did his semen analysis first and it was a hilarious few days, making sure we didn’t have intercourse for three days prior (classic case of the more someone tells you no, the harder it is to abstain), and waking up bright and early to get the sample over to the lab. I asked if they had magazines to inspire him, and I remember us laughing over it.

This week I did my hysterosalpingogram, an imaging test that basically checks if your Fallopian tubes are okay. It involves inserting a catheter up your cervix and injecting a contrast dye in that tracks upwards.

I had to lie down, be prepped so I was sterile and they inserted a speculum in (uncomfortable!). There were a first year and a third year radiology masters student, but the first year female doctor proceeded to attempt to put in the catheter.

I was prepared for it to be painful, but I had taken a painkiller, so the pain was tolerable. The first doctor couldn’t insert the catheter though (I could hear the words difficult, if I force it it would be traumatic etc), and at that point they would call a registrar. As they opened the door a crack and the registrar poked his head in, I realized it was Jimmy, my ex-medical officer back when I was a houseman. FML.

Eventually they called in a female registrar and they finally proceeded. As they injected the dye, I got these massive abdominal cramps - I must have been making a face because they then put in a brannula to give some IV medications.

Apparently the procedure usually takes 30 minutes, mine ended up taking over an hour. 😅 I was good immediately after, but later that day, I had the worst cramping pains I’ve ever experienced - I couldn’t walk, didn’t have any painkillers on hand, and basically stayed curled up in bed until Behr came back with a hot pack and medicine. I was still in pain for two days after!

The things women have to go through. 😑

I wanted to share our story because I’ve had so many people telling me they went through a similar situation, and I don’t think it’s something to hide behind.

Infertility is more common than you think, and I don’t feel it’s something to be ashamed of. It’s a shared problem - and if you have been trying for children for a year without success, both partners should be tested.

Children, like everything else, are blessings from Allah. Behr and I have decided we’re not going to be super fussed either way. We’re just at the beginning of a journey, and we have no idea where it will lead us. We’re lucky in so many ways, and whatever comes up in the process, we’ll just take it as it comes. I’m lucky to have Behr, who’s been supportive throughout, and in this journey with me.

And for everyone else going through the same journey, we’re all in this together. 😘

Mesh

Sometimes the trials of being in an adult relationship is difficult. 

Nothing seems more difficult than trying to integrate oneself with another family. No matter how independent I have become, or how much I have grown into adulthood, there is still that feeling of awkwardness which seems to persist when I meet parents. 

I have never been particularly good with crowds or authority; there is always this remnant of restlessness and not knowing what to say. The invisible barrier between separation of your peers and those you consider your seniors seems to be fairly prominent at times. 

Perhaps it is just that with families especially, there are always multiple layers of things unsaid and the uncertainty – to enter the lives of a separate family means you embrace the possibility that you will never truly know, or understand entirely, the same way that it would take a lifetime to truly understand another person. The past, and the present, and how it’s been shaped so the present is how it is. As an outsider, you will never understand. 

But you hope that sincerity and commitment will ease the way and that you remember that the common denominator, a person that both sides mutually love, is the glue that will help to bind the relationship together.