Hysterosalpingogram (HSG) Test

I had the much dreaded hysterosalpingogram (HSG) test last Friday. The last, for me, in a series of fertility tests. And, yes, it was as much fun as the name suggests. In layman's terms, this test reveals if one's fallopian tubs are open (good) or if they're blocked (bad). By the way, if you're sensitive to lady talk, or not interested in lady tests, I suggest you stop reading right here.

Test Preparation

You actually have to prepare for this test, believe it or not. Two days before the test, HSGers have to go into the lab and do a urine pregnancy test. I was lucky because my doctor had also ordered a thyroid test for me, for some unknown reason. So I peed in a cup and had my blood drawn all before the work day started. Fun! The good news, for the sake of the test, is that my pregnancy test was negative. You guys, who is surprised at this point, right? Also, my thyroid levels are completely normal. That's totally irrelevant to this test, but over-sharing is quite therapeutic, you know.

The day before the test, HSGers have to start taking antibiotics. This is to prevent infection from the horrible things they're going to do to you during the test. When the pharmacist consulted me on the medication, he quietly whispered that I was to begin taking the doxycycline a day before my "procedure," wink wink.

And then, an hour before the test, HSGers are instructed to take 800 mgs of ibuprofen because the test itself is completely and insanely uncomfortable and causes mild to moderate cramping. I guess the thought is that if you're hopped up on meds you won't notice a catheter being inserted up your vagina, through your cervix, and into your uterus.  

Test Procedure

As if the test itself is not intimidating enough, it's performed at the hospital, complete with hospital bracelet and gown.

The good news (since I'm such a glass-is-half-full type of person, apparently) is that I was allowed to keep my socks on. I specifically brought socks and asked if I could wear them because 1. I have not painted my toenails since before Pismo Beach and 2. Who wants cold feet when strangers are examining your lady business? Not me.

So there I was in my hospital gown and socks laying on a cold, flat metal table. To my left, there's a massive, movable x-ray machine (a fluoroscope) and to my right there's a monitor that will capture images of my uterus and fallopian tubes. The first part of the test is kind of like a pap smear and, by first part, I mean there's a speculum involved. If you don't know what a speculum is just consider yourself lucky. Or a man. Or both, I suppose.

Next is the cleaning of the cervix. Yes, they cleaned my cervix. I don't know what this thing looks like, but it feels like a brillo pad on a stick twirling around inside your body, hitting the walls of your cervix over and over again. My use of the word twirling kind of makes it sound all fun and carefree, huh? Just imagine someone taking a toothbrush to your small intestine and rotating it. And then rotating it. And rotating it and rotating it. It doesn't really hurt, but it's weird and uncomfortable.  

After my cervix is squeeky clean, the doctor inserts a catheter through my cervix and into my uterus, injects dye into the catheter, and instructs me to scooch up on the table so that the fluroscope can do its thing. Moving even an inch with a catheter all up in your lady parts is a feat in itself not only because you have a foreign object inside your body, but also because it freaking hurts. Thank goodness for nurses. Taking slow, deep breaths, so as not to pass out, I lay there while the fluroscope x-rays my insides. Oy! That sounds so dramatic, but it does hurt.

And then the catheter is removed and all is well. From start to finish the test is, like, five minutes. One can expect some cramping for the rest of the day, but it's nothing that a whole box of macaroni and cheese can't fix.