"There's definitely a baby."
went to see the doctor this morning. A came with me. we were running late, and so before getting to the doctor's clinic, i told A we will be 6th on the wait list. we got there at 9:15 and we were 7th on the wait list. and again, it took forever. so we stepped out and had breakfast at rufo's. A had the famous rufo's tapa, and i had a very delicious, juicy, fragrantly garlicky and vinegary daing na bangus. A was disappointed with the tapa, while I savored every morsel of my daing and cleaned it out save for the skin, head and the tail. A looked longingly at the poster of the scrumptious-looking liempo on the wall and wished he had that instead. i cheered him up and said we will have our lunch there later.
***
"you have a myoma," dr. alfiler said, "but definitely, there is a baby."
surprisingly, i wasn't so shocked. almost everyone i know, anyway, had a myoma. was more concerned if it posed a danger to the baby.
"it's here," dr. alfiler said, pointing to the computer monitor. " so you see there's enough space for the baby to grow, even if it increases in size. it's 3.1 cm. right now. but it's not in the way so you can still have a normal delivery."
" can you tell how old the baby is?"
" since we still cannot detect the fetal heart rate--the baby's too tiny, just 3 millimeters, we can only compute using the day of your last menstruation, and based on that, it's roughly 5 weeks and 6 days old. there, can you see it?--it's like a wing and a ball. here is the yolk sac," and she pushed some keys to mark the targets with x's. she was smiling, looking still excited about yet another baby, even after all the babies she's delivered. it was very reassuring.
i strained my neck to look at the screen. although she'd blown up the frozen images (which, by the way, required the transvaginal ultrasound device to be inside me the whole time) it was very difficult to see because it was so tiny. but i did see it, and i suppose i smiled.
" shall i call in your husband now?"
"yes, please." there is definitely a baby. focus on that, i told myself. i felt thrilled.
"what's his name?"
"al," i said, although A never wants to be called that, except when people cannot get his rather unusual name.
***
A came in--this tall man who made the ultrasound booth seem even more cramped than it actually was. he looked funny because he was carrying my white bag awkwardly in his arms, along with a rolled-up newspaper, and a couple of brown envelopes containing my medical stuff.
dr. alfiler showed him the images on the screen--pointing out the baby, the yolk sac and the myoma.
just as i thought, he was worried. but the doctor quickly reassured him by saying she's seen myoma in many of her patients, and most of these were benign.
"the baby looks just like you," i teased.
***
"you have a myoma," dr. alfiler said, "but definitely, there is a baby."
surprisingly, i wasn't so shocked. almost everyone i know, anyway, had a myoma. was more concerned if it posed a danger to the baby.
"it's here," dr. alfiler said, pointing to the computer monitor. " so you see there's enough space for the baby to grow, even if it increases in size. it's 3.1 cm. right now. but it's not in the way so you can still have a normal delivery."
" can you tell how old the baby is?"
" since we still cannot detect the fetal heart rate--the baby's too tiny, just 3 millimeters, we can only compute using the day of your last menstruation, and based on that, it's roughly 5 weeks and 6 days old. there, can you see it?--it's like a wing and a ball. here is the yolk sac," and she pushed some keys to mark the targets with x's. she was smiling, looking still excited about yet another baby, even after all the babies she's delivered. it was very reassuring.
i strained my neck to look at the screen. although she'd blown up the frozen images (which, by the way, required the transvaginal ultrasound device to be inside me the whole time) it was very difficult to see because it was so tiny. but i did see it, and i suppose i smiled.
" shall i call in your husband now?"
"yes, please." there is definitely a baby. focus on that, i told myself. i felt thrilled.
"what's his name?"
"al," i said, although A never wants to be called that, except when people cannot get his rather unusual name.
***
A came in--this tall man who made the ultrasound booth seem even more cramped than it actually was. he looked funny because he was carrying my white bag awkwardly in his arms, along with a rolled-up newspaper, and a couple of brown envelopes containing my medical stuff.
dr. alfiler showed him the images on the screen--pointing out the baby, the yolk sac and the myoma.
just as i thought, he was worried. but the doctor quickly reassured him by saying she's seen myoma in many of her patients, and most of these were benign.
"the baby looks just like you," i teased.
posted by may at 5:38 PM
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