This ended up being kind of a long post. I thought it would be funny, but I might have drawn it out too long. I’ll understand if you don’t really want to read it. To give you the gist – the story starts with me whining, then relates a very frustrating chain of events leading up to jury selection, then shows how I had to describe in court, on record, the process of inserting a vaginal suppository. If this intrigues you, read on. If not… see you next post, and I’m sorry I’m so long winded. 🙂
ACT 1 – The Weekend
Setting: My bedroom
Characters: Me, Bobby
Mood: Overly dramatic
I spent the weekend, as you already know, freaking out about my Prometrium suppositories. How do I insert them? Why are they pills? Are they going to turn my baby into the wrong gender? What schedule do I take them on? What if I don’t get enough progesterone and I miscarry? And most importantly, how will I take my medicine while I’m at jury duty on Monday?
You see, I received a summons at the beginning of July for jury service on August 2. Two weeks later, I got a phone call saying, “Your jury service has been completed. You are no longer required to report for duty.” So like any other selfish, un-civic-minded person, I threw a little celebration that included gleefully ripping up my summons and tossing it into the trash like confetti. Weee! Then another week later, I received another phone call. “Your jury service has been rescheduled for August 30.” Um… shit.
But then IVF really got into the full swing, and my head was swimming with injection schedules, retrieval worries, TESE recovery… and then school started, and my head was swimming with preplanning and pregnancy tests… and I forgot all about my jury duty. Until last Thursday, when I got a phone call reminding me about my service. Um… shit. It’s the first week of school, I have no sub lined up, and no clue what to assign my students to keep them busy on the 6th day of the year, seeing as how I’ve taught them nothing yet except where to put their backpacks when they enter my classroom. So I spent the weekend at first in denial, then harassing Bobby with every question I could think of. Since I lost all my paperwork, I had no idea where to report, what time, what I could bring with me… I went into the whole experience feeling very flustered to begin with.
ACT II
Setting: Parking Garage, County Jury Room, Federal Jury Room
Characters: me, weird old guy, Krishna lady, jerky security guard, nice security guard, Clerk of the Court
Mood: Distraught
I counted out the hours for my suppositories. If I took the first one at 7:30, I could take the 2nd around 3:30, and thus hopefully be home in time to do it privately. I left the house and drove down to the county court house, and parked in the city parking garage. On the sidewalk outside of the garage was a weird old guy sitting at a folding table with a sign that said “Jury Information.” It was seriously sketchy looking, but ok. I walked up to him and he said, “Are you sure you’re supposed to be here today?” Yes, I said, I got a phone call Thursday telling me to be here. “You say you got a phone call? We don’t send out phone calls to jurors. What’s your name?” I told him. He checked his list once. He checked his list twice. He checked it a third time. “You’re not on my list. The federal courts send out phone calls to their jurors, but today isn’t the first Monday of the month. I don’t think they’re calling juries today.” I’m slightly spazzing out at this point. “Listen, the best I can tell you to do is walk three blocks over to that big white building, that’s the county courthouse, and see if they have you in the system. If not, it’s only a few more blocks over to the federal courthouse. Good luck.”
I was not prepared to walk any sort of distance in Florida’s heat, wearing dress pants and heels, and carrying my big purse and an armful of textbooks and papers to grade. I was all prepared for a long day of sitting in the big jury room, waiting for my number to be called. But I hobbled over to the courthouse, where I went through security and was second in line to check in at the Jury Office. The woman in front of me was a caucasian lady dressed in an Indian sari with a yellow line painted down her forehead – a Krishna. She was explaining her situation to the clerk, which was identical to my own. So I piped up and said, The same thing happened to me! I threw away my paperwork, and the guy didn’t have me on his list, and I don’t know where to go. The clerk told us both to head over to the federal courthouse.
So back outside I go with the Krishna lady, three more blocks away in the intensifying heat, blisters popping up on my heels. When I get to security, they force me to check all my electronic devices at the door, including my cell phone and iPod. Ok, this is irritating, they never said anything about not being able to bring those things on the paperwork (that I lost). Then this really mean security man took away my books, too. He said the judge doesn’t like it when people have books in the courtroom, and if he let me bring it upstairs, it would end up in the courtroom, and the judge would get mad. Like I’m some kind of two-year-old, I can’t be trusted to keep a book with me. All of my useful possessions stripped away, I stepped into the elevator with another security guard and promptly burst into tears.
“Are you okay, miss?” Yeah, I say, I’m great. “You look like you’re having a bad day.” Sort of, I’m just pregnant and I get really weepy over nothing these days. “Well, whatever it is that’s bothering you, it’ll get better.” The elevator arrives at my floor. “You just go right on in through that door, and don’t worry. It won’t be that bad.” He was really nice.
The Clerk of the Court did her check in deal, (it turns out nearly EVERYONE had thrown away their paperwork) and as I walked into the waiting room (which was staffed with those really uncomfortable chairs like they have at the DMV) I noticed that practically everybody else in the room had a book out, reading!! I was SO PISSED. I went into the bathroom and cried, cried, cried. This whole day had just sucked ass so far. Once I had let it out though, I was better. I wiped my eyes, then went back outside and stared at the walls while everybody else sat happily reading the books they brought. Luckily, federal court is different than county court. You don’t sit in the room waiting all day to be called; once we watched the little orientation video, we were all brought into the courtroom at once and interviewed together. But there’s one other major difference – federal courts last more than just one day. In fact, this trial was scheduled to last through Thursday. And I have these damn suppositories to take.
I went up to the Clerk and asked, Is pregnancy a reason not to serve on an extended court case like this? “Well that depends, how pregnant are you?” I’m five weeks, but I have doctor’s appointments, and I have to take hormone supplements at a certain time every day… in a really personal way… otherwise I’ll miscarry. She told me to just let the judge know that I had a high-risk pregnancy when he asked if there were any reasons why people couldn’t serve. Then we were taken into the courtroom.
ACT III
Setting: The Federal Courtroom
Characters: me, the judge, the attorneys, 33 other jurors, and two baliffs
Mood: much calmer
After I actually got into the courtroom and the judge started talking about the importance of jury service and the details of the case to be tried, I really calmed down. I remembered what a big deal this stuff was, and became much more civic minded. Still, though, the issue of my medication is a real problem. I went through all the interview questions, which had some funny moments that I will spare you from, including that Krishna lady and a few other characters like a couple of bus drivers and an actual Indian guy who had obviously just become a citizen and had no idea what was going on. Finally, after an hour and a half, the judge finally asked, “Is there any other reason that might keep anyone from giving their full focus to rendering a fair verdict in this trial?” I timidly raised my hand – the only one in the room. The bailiff brought me the microphone to explain myself. I asked if I could approach the bench to speak privately.
I went up to the judge’s bench and was joined… by all the attorneys, the stenographer, and both bailiffs. Not exactly the low-key, private conversation I had hoped for. I said, I’m 5 weeks into a high risk pregnancy and need to take medications at certain times of the day that will interfere with court proceedings. The judge just sort of looked at me like this didn’t sound like a big deal and said, “How often do you have to take these medications?” Well, I say, I am on hormone supplements that have to be taken three times a day. I pause, and everyone seems to be waiting for the explanation of what makes this an actual problem. So I take a deep breath and say, quietly and quickly, They have to be inserted vaginally while lying on my back, and I have to stay in a reclined position for 20 minutes afterward. Without them, I will miscarry. “Oh.” says the judge. “Thank you. You can be seated.”
I didn’t get picked for the jury.
The end.
Anyway…..Dory mentioned that I couldn’t sleep at all the night before which made not being able to drink all the more miserable. I considered swallowing my toothpaste while rinsing just to wet my throat. Believe it.
Just Keep Swimming 
