Bio-Mary Beth Fries Buchner Infertility and Beyond

Eventually Doctor “W” who was syrupy sweet and a bit eccentric admitted me to Mercy Hospital on Long Island for further diagnostic testing and an exploratory Laparotomy  (Dec. 1974).

 I’m curious if any other classmates had the pleasure of his company?  Dr. W’s office was attached to his home and his tiny waiting room was always jam-packed to the gills.  It was standing room only for the late comers and you could wait forever, sometimes into the wee hours of the night, to enter the inner chambers of this Wizard of Fertility.   On every visit, his wife who was also his nurse injected me with some “fertility enhancing substance”.  I asked what it was and was never given a clear explanation.  Till this day, I still ask myself, “Why, in God’s name would I allow such a thing to happen?” Years later, I discovered that Dr. W’s Nurse gave almost everyone of his patients this “injection” even my teenage sister, Meg, who was there for Birth Control pills to control her symptoms of Endometriosis.

During my Laparotomy, I was given a complete overhaul – a D& C, the removal of a large uterine fibroid and endometrial implants, as well as bilateral wedge resections of both ovaries.   I must say, the surgery threw me for a loop; I was in the hospital for a full week and felt like I was run over by a MAC truck for a long time afterwards.   I also developed psychological symptoms in the form of rather severe panic attacks which I must say left me with tremendous sympathy for anyone with “mental illness”.

 In my mind I suppressed the results of the sperm report that I had been given by lab tech, Judy, two years prior, and we once again got busy trying to conceive this elusive child.   At this juncture, I feel it is important to point out that most people – Bob, Bob’s family, my family, our friends, my physicians – even fertility specialists- focused entirely on me and my “problems”, completely ignoring the fact, that right at the start of our investigation, Bob had had a semen analysis and the results were not good.   I guess this was a sign of the times and women’s position in society.   I can only imagine and hope that this would not happen in 2015! 

Eventually, I quit my job in Pediatrics at Downstate Medical Center in order to stay home, relax, and in this way- I had heard- enhance my ability to become pregnant.   During this time Bob unexpectedly, shockingly  lost his job.  Since, early on in our relationship, we had agreed we did not want the rat race of a home on Long Island with a job in Manhattan and the commute in between, we took this turn of events as an opportunity to move out of the metropolitan NY area and begin our life in the “country”. 

On my 30^th birthday, we moved to our 5 acres of “country” and our 4 bedroom (2 of the bedrooms were only 6 feet wide and about 8 feet long) mobile home on Belden Hill, 17 miles northeast of Binghamton, NY.  The next day we went to downtown Binghamton to the NYS Employment Office in order to find jobs.   I had recently graduated with a Bachelor’s degree in “Special Studies” from St. Francis College on Remsen Street in Brooklyn.  I absolutely refused to pursue a degree or go to a college that declined to give me credit for my 3 years at the prestigious St. Vincent’s Hospital School of Nursing!    Technically, my Special Studies degree was basically a degree with a major in psychology and I was given 60 credits for my years at St. Vincent’s.   The NYS Employment Department staff person sent me to Wilson Memorial Hospital in Johnson City, NY for a newly created position for which they thought I would qualify.   I was interviewed and hired immediately as the Patient Teaching Coordinator.   It wasn’t until the next day when I met with the Director of Nursing, that I had any idea that I was going to be working exclusively with the Chief of Oncology and that many of my patients were basically dying.  My background in psychology came in handy, but nonetheless, I believed I was way out of my element and way over my head.  I wasn’t too sure this was the job for me.  That night I called my mother and told her of the job offer and my hesitancy and trepidation about accepting this position.  Calmly and confidently she assured me that I should pray to God and then I would be able to do what was being asked of me.   This was probably the best, most rewarding job, I ever held.   In the end, I was only in this position for a year and a half before we adopted our son and moved out of the area.   But for that year and a half I was what use to be referred to by some as the “Death and Dying” Nurse.  In reality, that term is a misnomer, as I learned more about life and truth, love and fidelity through this experience than at any other time is my life.