What just happened?

I'm freezing. Even though I am wearing a shirt, a blouse and a knitted cardigan, I am still freezing. My toes feel like little ice cubes and I think I lost all feeling in my fingertips.  I do not want to be here. I want to be in a place that is warmer.

It is quiet and am all alone in the small consultation room at this new doctor's office. It is 15 min. past my appointment. Just a second ago the TV was blasting in the waiting room so that the receptionist and the nurses could hear it even when they were in their little cubicle around the corner. But now there is no more TV, everything is quiet and cold.

I am nervous. For a second, I am thinking about leaving. I could just pick up my purse and coat and make a run for it. I look at the door and right that moment it opens. A man my father's age with grey hair, glasses, and a stern look enters the room. He introduces himself: My new doctor. His hand is much warmer than mine. His smile is not.

He looks into my face and asks me about my TTC experiences. I look at the pile of papers that he brought in with him. Did he read all the questionnaires I had to fill out? Did he read the medical records from my last doctor that I had worried about getting released in time? Before I can really care, the words tumble out of my mouth. I tell him about my IUIs, the things that worked, the things that didn't, what went wrong, how I did not like the lack of communication at my last doctor's office. I tell him about the meds I took, the sperm I used, the tests they did and everything I can think of until there are no more words left inside of me.

Then he opens his mouth and his words come out. But they do not tumble, they shoot like straight arrows targeted at my soul, my deepest dreams, my hopes, my future. He tells me what he thinks went wrong, what he would have done, and how he has all the answers. Only that his answers do not match my questions.

Every once in a while, he gets a grin on his face and drops the title of an article he wrote or mentions the results of a study he did. Before I know it, it is all about him. He has more experience than other doctors, he has higher success rates than other doctors, he has better insights into the subject matter, he has a spouse, he has six children, he has a grandchild and he has another one on the way. He wants me to understand: He has it all and he is the one - A divine gift to all infertile women... And he has a boat. An effing boat.

I look at him.
Speechless.
Is he still talking to me? Or is he talking to himself? Should I say something? Ask something? Does he know, I am still in the room?

He looks at me.

I look at him.

The central heat kicks in. 

I take a deep breath but before I can exhale, he says:

"Injectables.

We are going to put you on injectables. If my wife... if my daughter... even if my 2 year-old granddaughter came to me, I would put them on injectables...

Or IVF. We can do that here, too, you know. I am great with IVF. It is up to you. Stay here, the nurse will bring you some info material."

And with that the door slams shut behind him. I stare at the door.

What just happened here?