Oh, to be pregnant and hormonal. Remember how I said I don't like male doctors? Well, my doctor advised me to get in to see the OB as soon as I could in light of the uncool abdominal pain and twin-looking ultrasound. You know, just to figure out exactly what's going on here. And remember how I said that my delightful female OB was leaving? Well, in a fit of desperation, I made an appointment with one of the male OBs at my practice. Husband said "just give it a try" and "maybe it won't be so bad." Of course, I made an appointment with The One Who Speaks No English. Normally, this isn't a problem for me, and if I liked him, I'd make an effort to interpret. But, since I loathe him and all he stands for, I can cheerfully deride him for not being able to form an intelligible sentence.
So, that appointment was today. And wow, was it a doozy. So, the nurse asks me a million questions, which is fine. She's nice, if a bit disorganized (it's Monday, after all). Then, she sends in the doctor. I'm tense, but willing to give him a shot. First thing he says (upon seeing the Bear sitting in the corner eating a magazine) is, "Oh, so this is your second pregnancy." No, actually, it's not. The first page of my chart says that it's my third. I had one live birth and one miscarriage. But did he read the damn chart? Of course not. Was it from sheer laziness, or was his interpreter sick for the day? Who knows? So, that pissed me off and let me know he didn't care enough to take the time to read my chart. Happy day.
Then, he mentions that he's seen my ultrasound report. I ask what he thinks about the two sacs (as noted by the Professional Radiologist, not just by me), and he says dismissively, "Oh, too early. We wait and see." Wait and see? When will we "see"? In the damn birthing room? I'd like to be a little more prepared than that, if it's all the same to you! And how, if we've already seen two sacs, can it be "too early"? Wouldn't they just be two *bigger* sacs now, with more to see on the inside? So, something tells me he's just putting me off here. Oh, the anger is building. I'm breathing deeply, trying to control my Inner Bitch, albeit without much success.
Then, we get around to my real concern, namely the Intense Pain. Now, I've already explained to the nurse that my regular doctor has determined that I have an "infection" that has apparently taken over my entire abdomen, for all intents and purposes. I told her what antibiotic I'm on for this, and she marked it on my chart. I also reminded her of my history of kidney trouble during pregnancy (as in they don't like to function when I'm pregnant, with highly disastrous results). She circled that on my chart. Now, since said pain is localized in the area of the right kidney, which is the one that shut down when I was pregnant with the Bear, I said, "Hmmm, perhaps, connection, similarity, yes? Or just a freakish coincidence?" And without even looking at me, this quack says, "Oh, the uterus stretches during pregnancy. You feel some pains from that." To which I indignantly replied that I had been pregnant before, enough to realize that my uterus is probably not growing ON MY BACK, and it had never before caused "growing pains" so severe that I couldn't stand up straight. Then, (cutting me off mid-sentence) he says, "Oh, that a muscle spasm." That was *it* for me. I have had back spasms before. I can tell when a muscle is spasming. This is not that. I'm not a complete moron. I pay attention to my body. This is not a back spasm!
This is the point where things start to get fuzzy. I remember hyperventilating and bursting into tears and loud, unladylike sobs. I believe I demanded my old OB. I know I told him I hate male doctors, especially him. I got up and prepared to storm out before he even finished his mockery of an exam, wailing that I'd never let him near me again.
Husband swears that he looked scared out of his wits, and apologized profusely, and practically ran out of the room. I remember none of this, as I was weeping into my hands and crying "Just go! Go away!"
Anyway, a nurse came in and comforted me (they do have some lovely nurses) and recommended a very nice (female) Family Practitioner who delivers babies. Several other people have recommended this doctor to me, so I think I'm going to call her. Meanwhile, the nurse told me that until this pregnancy was officially classified as "high-risk," I could see one of the midwives, and they would just keep a very close eye on my charts for if (when) things start to go wrong. And I love the midwives at this practice. They're just delightful people, so caring and personal. So, I have to go back tomorrow to redo my initial appointment with the midwife, which I'm totally cool with. We didn't get any further than my blood pressure today.
So, I'm really torn. Do I continue at this practice with the midwives, knowing full well that there's a very likely chance I'll get labeled "high-risk" and have to see one of the (male) doctors? Or do I go out right now and find a nice female doctor right off the bat, and let the choice be mine? I'm feeling very conflicted over this. The midwives' practice is affiliated with the hospital, which is nice. They specialize in pregnancy and childbirth. But, they're not legally allowed to attend to "high-risk" pregnancies, which includes both the complications of my previous pregnancy and the possibility of multiples, if anyone could ever just pull their head out of their ass long enough to take a look in there. But, a family practitioner could be my (our) family doctor after the birth as well, which is appealing. Oh, the indecision. Any thoughts, anyone?
Meanwhile, Dr. Moron did recommend that I have an ultrasound done on my stupid kidney to see if it is, in fact, working at all, which was nice of him. No chance that he'll be looking at the results of that one, though! Idiot. He was rude, condescending, he didn't read my chart, he wouldn't make eye contact with me, he speaks no English, and he was dismissive of my concerns. Not to mention that he interrupted me! While I was asking a question! Fool. I hope his mother knows what a Disappointment he is.
And, the worst thing that happened today? Worse even than the disastrous doctor appointment in which I sent the doctor running in the opposite direction? Our Taco Bell is closed! And will be until October! I can't be pregnant without a Taco Bell! What will I do? I made Husband take me there after our catastrophic appointment, to drown my sorrows in a chalupa (or three), and it was closed. And I think I may have cried some more. Oh, the indignity of hormones. I've been reduced to a blathering idiot.
And? I'm queasy. All the time. I'm one of those people who never ever hurl, not even with great provocation (I have no gag reflex), but I can get nauseated with the best of them, and I am currently subsisting on a diet of saltines and ginger ale. This is so gross. I'm bloated (we're taking belly shots this time, and I may be brave enough to post them here if we make it past 12 weeks) and queasy and hurting and very very very hormonal.
Ok, I think I'm officially done ranting now. I feel much better to have gotten all that off my chest. It was cathartic. Yay, catharsis. Now for chocolate.