In my previous post, I mentioned that I had an appointment for a Hysteroscopy on April 5th. I had to rearrange this because my period was due at that time. It actually ended up coming forward and was booked for March 28th 2022. The information I received about the hysteroscopy described a scope of the uterus. Google was of no use. If you try to look for information about the procedure, you mainly get web pages about dilation during labour… Nothing about dilating it was mentioned in the paperwork. I was a little confused about whether the stretch would actually take place during this appointment, but I figured I would turn up and find out.

Cervical dilation

I arrived slightly early and was directed to the waiting area by the receptionist. I’d only just sat down when a nurse came to ask if I’d done a urine sample. I hadn’t, because no one had asked me to or given me a pot… She gave me a pot and sent me on my way. A few minutes later I was back in the waiting area, and she promptly came back to fetch the sample and took me off to do my weight and height.

Another few minutes in the waiting area followed, and then another nurse came to fetch me. I entered the room and immediately noticed the chair and monitor, so I knew this was where it was all going down. The consultant was sat at a table in the room, and we got straight into consent. It was confirmed that dilation is the plan. He told me about the possible complications; bleeding etc, and then I went straight behind the curtain to get gowned up.

The chair had some fabulous leg holders attached, so I was quickly baring all to a stranger. I felt ridiculously uncomfortable. At least when I went for a colonoscopy I had some fancy pants to cover my modesty. I also have my back to the person doing the procedure. My vagina was literally in this man’s face… If I’d thought about it, I bet I could have felt his breath on it! I hated it. I hated him.

His glamorous assistant is up near my head, trying, but failing, to distract me… First, he inserted a speculum, then he injected some local anaesthetic. That stung a lot, but no more than local anaesthetic anywhere else. Then we just sat there for a few minutes while we waited for it to work properly. I could genuinely feel the breeze from the window on my vagina… I wanted the chair to swallow me and spit me out when it was all over.

I asked him why on earth he chose this profession. He says it’s very rewarding being able to be part of the journey to enable people to become parents. I suddenly hated him less. I could hear the sincerity in his voice. I asked if there was a possibility that the hole would just shrink straight back again, and he said that’s not usually the case.

He told me I might experience some pain that will likely feel like menstrual cramps. Not good news for me because mine really hurt. And so did this. He inserted a little cone into the entrance of my cervix, which was left there for a few minutes. Then further and another few minutes.

Please. Let. This. End.

I just keep breathing. Deep belly breaths, focusing on my breath rather than the pain. Both of them told me I was tolerating it very well. I wanted a sticker after this! Then it was over. The pain decreased a lot as soon as the cone was removed. He said to expect some bleeding over the next few days. It was pretty light bleeding in reality, after an initial gush that I actually had to pop to the toilet for before even leaving the hospital.

That was it. I went back behind the curtain and there were some little packs on the side with wipes and a panty liner, which I was told I would need. I cleaned myself up, thanked them, and left, with no sticker.

There was some discomfort for the rest of the day, but following that you’d never have known it had happened.

I chased up our follow-up appointment on August 17th. On August 31st I got a text for a phone appointment on November 14th. I was miffed because that was aaaages away. I felt like this whole journey had taken a really long time. I look back at when I originally contacted the GP. June 2021. I figured out that by the time we spoke to the gynaecologist again, 17 months would have passed since the journey began.

I was feeling pretty fed up.