When patients come last

The past 48 hours have certainly been fun.

I went back yesterday morning to get my blood test done. The pathologist grabbed me as soon as she saw me come in and told me the request form had arrived. I was relieved to hear that, and thankful she was going to rush me through so I didn’t have to wait in line again like I had to on Monday.

I sat down on the bed and rolled up my sleeve so she could insert the needle.

“Yes that form was sent through at 5pm yesterday afternoon.” she said. “So it was waiting for me when I got in this morning.”

“Wait,” I said. “5pm yesterday?”

“Yes.” the pathologist confirmed. “Funny time of day to fax a form through!”

Then she pulled the fax receipt out of the drawer and handed it to me. 5.01pm was date stamped clearly across the top. Once again I was so incredibly angry!

“They promised they’d faxed it at lunch time yesterday in case I wanted to pop by in the afternoon to get the test done.” I grumbled.

“Well it’s lucky you didn’t,” the pathologist replied. “Because I would have turned you away again.”

I cannot believe those people lied to me. Again.

At 12.30pm yesterday I got a call through from the only nurse at the clinic I still like. She’s always been caring and understanding. She told me that the hCG (pregnancy hormone) level in my blood was 6 mIU/mL. Anything below 5 mIU/mL is considered not pregnant.

“I’m sorry I’ve never seen a 6 come back before,” she said. “It looks like your hormone levels are dropping but haven’t made it back to their normal level yet.”

“So this is a chemical pregnancy?” I asked, surprisingly calm.

“You’re just past 5 weeks now. Some doctors would call this an early miscarriage, others use the term chemical pregnancy up until they can see the baby on an ultrasound scan.” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“Can I at least go off the crinone gel now?” I asked, trying to look on the positive side of things.

The crinone gel makes me feel disgusting, itchy and squeamish. I can’t stand it.

“Sorry sweetheart you can’t come off the crinone until your doctor gives you the okay.” the nurse said. “I’ll leave a message for him to call you now.”

So I waited. And waited. And waited.

No call.

At 2pm I called the doctor’s office. They said he was busy and would call me shortly.

So I waited. And waited.

No call.

At 4.30pm I called his office again. His receptionist said he had gone home for the day and would phone me first thing tomorrow morning.

Now I was seriously pissed off. His patient, who had paid him thousands of dollars for specialised treatment needed care and attention, and he had not bothered to even call me back?

Doug was so angry when I told him. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him so angry. He can’t wait until we’re rid of that awful doctor and find someone who actually wants to help us.

Last night while Doug was downstairs making dinner I sat in the shower and let the hot water wash over my body while I scooped all the disgusting crinone gel out of my cervix. I’d been told not to remove it in case it irritated me and affected my pregnancy, but that clearly wasn’t a concern anymore. I was shocked how much was actually sitting up there. No wonder I was struggling to fit gel in. I let the crinone disappear down the plug hole and sobbed until the water turned cold. It felt like an emotional release.

This morning when I woke up I called the doctor’s office at 9am. The receptionist told me he had a free morning and would call me soon. I didn’t hear from him until 11am. That pretty much sums up the level of care he offers his patients!

He told me to go off the crinone (too late pal, I already did that yesterday) and to wait for my bleed to begin. He warned it would be heavy and painful and promised to call in a few days time to see how I am.

I don’t expect to hear from him ever again.

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