Yes I know… it’s been a while. But we are finally back after a crazy few weeks. Thought I’d kick it off by getting back to my timeline….
The only reality show I will indulge in is the Kardashians – this is my dirty little secret. The show is like a train wreck you can’t look away from. Last fall, I found myself catching up on an episode of Keeping Up with the Kardashians where I learned with America that Khloe Kardashian’s hormone levels were off and consequently she didn’t ovulate every month. For a moment, I felt bad for Khloe. Poor Khloe – she had to get poked and prodded and got stuck with needles. But then during a commercial break I changed my mind. Ok you don’t ovulate you rich bitch – so pay a doctor to fix you because if anyone in America can afford it you can. In fact, Khloe could probably afford to buy a brand new uterus and ovaries if the stuff she’s got didn’t function the way she pleased. I stopped feeling bad for her at that moment.
About a month after I watched that riveting episode, I got a call from the nurse at my OB’s office to “discuss my results”. We had been trying for almost 6 months, my had drawn some blood work to check my hormone levels. Apparently my progesterone levels were “on the low side”. What that meant I didn’t know. As an ER doctor I stopped caring about hormones the minute I finished medical school. She proceeded to explain that generally during ovulation my progesterone levels should rise. At the level they measured it was not at all clear whether I was ovulating every month.
She then proceeded to refer me to her partner who specialized in “reproductive medicine”. You mean a lady doctor who helps the childless to become un-barren? This I hadn’t expected. When I had initially decided to get a check up, part of me had convinced myself everything would be normal and we would sit around and all throw our heads back and laugh that I had been dramatic as usual and had overreacted. And then I would get pregnant shortly thereafter and feel silly that I had gotten the blood work done in the first place.
The episode came on as a rerun. Suddenly I started feeling bad for Khloe again. She and I were bound by a common thread – our dysfunctional ability to ovulate. We were kindred spirits. Watching this the second time, I cried as she got her ultrasounds, as she bared her soul for the camera talking about the tragedy of her broken ovaries. The heartbreak when she told Lamar about her fucked up hormones. I thought – I am with you Khloe. I get you. We should be friends and talk about this as we sip champagne and you buy me new Gucci shoes. Me and Khloe – BFFs.
I had a Kardashian connection.