Sometimes it's the oddest places that make me think about my childlessness - not the traditional McDonald's playland, school yard, church or Dugger house (19 and Counting), rather Home Depot (dad and son picking out tools); veterinarian's (little girl with new kitten) and this week, it was at the dentist's.
My dentist's office is pretty high tech as teeth doctor's offices go - flat screen TVs with the latest software tracking my records, X-rays of my chompers, etc.
I went to get my teeth cleaned, as I do pretty religiously every six months. Yes, while my uterus doesn't cooperate at all, my insisors, bicuspids, and molars are in fairly pristine condition (I'd rather trade some cavities and root canals for my non-functional womb).
Up on the big ol' 42" flat TV, showed an out-of-date version of my medical history, which said that I was "undergoing fertility treatments." I didn't have the nerve to tell them to remove it from my history. So, once again, I relived that period of my life a bit while I had the hygenist's hands in my mouth. And, since I didn't tell them otherwise, I'll just have to see it again in November when I go back.
The other thing that just kills me is that since I only go every six months, every appointment is just another reminder that I don't have a child (my son from Vietnam or a biobaby) yet. For the last five years, each time I schedule my next cleaning, I have thought, "I bet I have a baby/my son before I am back to see Dr. P." And, thus far, that hasn't happened.
Perhaps I'll try the nitrous oxide next time to make it more fun.