Today four people gave me a trans-abdominal ultrasound and about four million people (note: this might be a slight hyperbole) gave me a trans-vaginal ultrasound.
It’s been a while since I’d done any work for the university hospital as a simulated patient,and what better way to dive back in than by stripping off my clothes, getting into a gown the could double as a circus tent, and letting a bunch of medical students poke around in my vagina, trying to find my elusive uterus?
This was my first time being a model for any kind of ultrasound, so I was as interested as what was on the screen as the students. I nervously lifted my gown up so students could take turns pressing above my pelvic bone, sweeping back and forth. I’d forgotten just how far south the wand goes, and I felt bad about how unkempt it was down there. Hi, strangers. Sorry that you’re getting a glimpse of my untended bush that wouldn’t look out of place in a 70s porno. Then again, who knows what kinds of characters they will encounter on a daily basis once they’re out in the real world? Also, I quickly remembered, they are medical students. Young and nervous they may be, but they’re not exactly flustered about seeing the more intimate parts of the body. In fact, some of them seemed to forget I was a person at all, ramming the wand against me like I was made of that unforgiving rubber on some medical models. Fortunately, you can press pretty hard into the belly above the pubic bone and not feel anything.
The main concern they had for me was, “Doesn’t that hurt?” “Nnnope, push harder.” “Harder?” This was particularly true once we got into the trans-vaginal ultrasounds. The men especially seemed hesitant about pushing the wand downwards, but as I learned before when observing the female program pelvic exam lessons, it takes about 30 lbs of downward pressure just to look at the cervix.
“Is this hurting you?” “Dude, these things are designed to push out softball-sized heads. It’s fine.”
After a while, though–maybe around student #11–it did start to get taxing. Certain pressures hurt more and more, and my legs were starting to cramp in the foot rests. The weirdest, though, was that the teacher could see my bladder filling up on the screen, and so she knew that I probably could use a bathroom break before I did.
When I shifted my attention from the weird probing and uncomfortable position, though, what was happening on the screen was fascinating. And, I learned, taking ultrasounds is much, much harder than it looks. A couple rare students found the uterus right away, but most had to hunt and hunt for it.
“Now, she’s got a retroverted uterus, which is a bit unusual, so you’re going to want to go down more,” the teacher would instruct. Retroverted. Aren’t I special?
“Hey, Nina [the other model working that afternoon] has a retroverted uterus too! What are the odds?” Maybe not that special, then. It is unlikely that the students would have two retroverted uteruses in one day, though.
Students would use what the teacher called the “Battleship method,” sweeping side to side and up and down when lost to identify and scan things. Sometimes they would encounter arteries and vessels, and when they turned on the color on the screen, a section of my insides would turn into a psychedelic, pulsating party of blue and red. Each student took a turn hunting down my uterus and scanning through the whole thing, then finding each ovary and the venous plexus ( I think. I might’ve gotten that wrong. Sorry, any medical readers. Feel free to correct me), which you could see pulsating on the screen.
I also learned that my stuff moves around. “Her uterus was down here, but things have been moving around in there,” the teacher said. “Ta-da,” I said. “Just to make it more interesting for you guys.”
But seriously, stuff moves around? I have a whole new respect for the good folks who do ultrasounds, especially when there’s not even a big honking baby in there to give the uterus away.
“No, see, that’s the ovary there. It’s bigger than the left. Things can vary. It’s not going to always look like Grey’s Anatomy,” the teacher said to a student at one point.
“I don’t watch Grey’s Anatomy,” he said.
I really hope my laughter didn’t screw up the uterus hunt.