Lydia the Tattooed Lady: The Beginning of my Infertility Story

Sharing some of the juicy details with a little humor.

I’ve never shared my story about Lydia the tattooed lady.

Let’s start at the beginning of my infertility story. It runs deeper than the article I wrote for the Simply Gluten Free magazine in their March/April 2018 publication. However, sharing some of my struggles through that article was a small part of it.

My Friendship Family

It actually all started when I began working at The Old Chicago restaurant around 1990, when I turned 21. Quickly establishing my friendship family by all the fun we had before, during, and after our shifts.

Sometimes when we were setting up the restaurant to open, we created some interesting pizza’s together. We made all sorts of different breakfast pizzas and spaghetti pizza. We got pretty creative with them. We would grab some of the left over spaghetti to put as a topping on our pizza crust. Some turned out great, some not so great.

We helped each other out and had a ton of fun during every shift. They just felt more like family rather than co-workers to me, especially since I just moved to this state.

Sometimes we met up across the street at another establishment and had a few beers after our shifts. We had poker parties until all hours of the night at one of our bartenders apartment. The restaurant hired a bus for us to go to a Zephers baseball game together. We worked great together at different events selling the pizzas. You know, like a fun tight knit family.

Of course it didn’t take long before I found myself falling in love with someone special that I met there. It was the perfect place to get to know someone before dating.

Well, we dated until the unthinkable happened. Something that would change my life forever.

The Diagnosis

Out of the blue on a late weekday night, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I drove myself to the hospital as I hadn’t been able to urinate all day. I’ll never forget the small bumps in the road that felt like craters as I drove over them. Every little move I made was agonizing.

I was admitted to the hospital with tears in my eyes. They put in a catheter which took a couple of tries. If you’ve never had that done, it’s unpleasant to say the least.

The relief I felt was filled with overwhelming gratitude. Anything following that kind of discomfort becomes more tolerable. In my mind, the worst was over.

Unfortunately, the emergency room doctor didn’t know what was going on with me. Why couldn’t I urinate? The nurses assured me that everything would be just fine. That they are just calling in another doctor to have a look at me. I told them that I’m a server and have no insurance to stay overnight like they encouraged, or to have a bunch of tests done.

They had a couple different doctors come in and look at me which made me feel a little violated. I’d never had any issues before. I don’t remember if I even had a pap-smear done at that point in my life.

Finally, they discharged me around 2 in the morning. They took the catheter out and told me to see an OBGYN first thing in the morning.

Right when I woke up the next day, I called an OBGYN for an emergency appointment. By the time I got there that day, I couldn’t urinate… again. I explained my hospital visit and they put another catheter in. I had no idea this was going to be the beginning of my infertility story.

After further examination, they told me I contracted Chlamydia.

What? What in the world is that? What kind of word is that? That’s my diagnosis?

They gave me a pamphlet, told me that a side effect is infertility, showed me how to take out my own catheter and how to self-insert a catheter again if needed, gave me some supplies, some medication, instructions, and sent me on my way.

Being so young, I didn’t think too much of the infertility part at the time. I was more interested as to how one contracts this ‘Chlamydia’. I do remember thinking about my Aunt. How she was told at a young age that she couldn’t conceive children due to having rheumatic fever as a 13-year old. Yet, she went on to have 2 healthy babies.

Lydia the Tattooed Lady

Living with family at the time was such a blessing! When I told them the OBGYN told me that I had Chlamydia, they had no idea what that was either.

In pure family fashion, they broke out in song that I’d never heard before. Singing, “Chlamydia oh Chlamydia. Say, have you met Chlamydia?”

The song was sung by Groucho Marx released in 1939, called Lydia the Tattooed Lady. Some of the lyrics were, “Lydia, oh Lydia. Say, have you met Lydia? Lydia, the tattooed lady. Lydia, oh Lydia, that encyclopedia. You can learn and laugh from Lydia”.

lol, I’m such a good singer. lol

Now I know where I get my warped sense of humor.

Have a look at the following video and sing along. It’s pretty cool.

Facts

For this publication, I looked up some facts on Chlyamdia. Just to see if the doctors were out of their minds way back then in the 1900’s. lol. In 1990, I would have thought the Doctors would have recognized it without having to consult with other Doctors.

Turns out there could be no symptoms at all. It was first recognized as a specific STI in the 1970’s, but it took until 1988 for it to become notifiable. According to the NCBI website, “Newly diagnosed cases were reported only routinely in STI statistics from 1990, when there were 34,000 new diagnosis. The number began to rise steeply after 1995, reaching 100,000 in 2003”.

Conclusion

As I was reading up on it and resting the day that I was handed the pamphlet, I became infuriated. It sunk in that it’s a sexually transmitted disease which meant that my boyfriend must be cheating on me or something.

I called my boyfriend and he not only knew what it was, he said that he’s had it. He admitted that he contracted it from his wife. Okay, double whammy here. First, you knew you had this and didn’t tell me? Second, YOU’RE MARRIED? He said, “Well, we were separated, but might be getting back together because of the kids now”.

WAIT, WHAT? KIDS?

Oh, what a blow! Needless to say, as my heart was aching, I certainly didn’t want to go back to work now. My only friendship family that I’ve grown to know and care about felt like it was ripped away from me just as my fertility was.

However, I had to concentrate on my health first. First things first. I need to be able to urinate. I was determined not to have to put in my own catheter, let alone have to pay any more money out of pocket to have it put in again.

Waiting on tables with a catheter was difficult, but bills do not just magically stop coming in.

Long story short… I never had to put the catheter in myself. Although it was a long process training my bladder to go again. I managed to work shifts that he wasn’t working until he finally quit.

I didn’t tell anyone at work about it, or anyone at all for that matter. Other than family that I lived with at the time because I felt too embarrassed. Embarrassed that I trusted this man and embarrassed that I had a sexually transmitted disease.

This was the beginning of my infertility story. It took me until the age of 41 to finally give birth to a miraculous healthy baby. But the lessons I learned that finally worked for me to conceive are invaluable.

You can read about the Simply Gluten Free magazine story here or look it up online.

Have you experienced infertility?

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Lori K Today is a lifestyle publication. Offering sporadic, unconventional, mostly short stories, recipes, and poems via email and/or the Substack app.