One of my biggest problems (problem? gift? who really knows) in life is that my mother raised me to be polite to a fault. Even when someone is being an idiot, a jerk, etc., be polite. More flies with honey and what not.
Most of the time I think this is a good thing, but in the infertility world sometimes I really wish I could just say what I’m thinking.
It’s CD 18. I’ve finished my second round of letrozole, and done estrace for a few more nights. I went in this morning to get checked.
First of all, I’m always there really, really early. 7:30 is their first appointment of the day, and I’m there at 7:10 typically. I want to get in and out so I can get to work. I’m usually there before they even unlock the clinic doors. So this morning I was waiting outside and I saw a woman in scrubs and a white coat who I had not seen before. She came up to the door and jiggled it and then went “Oh no-it’s locked!”. I thought, “she looks like a doctor, but even doctors have to be patients sometime too. She must be a patient”. Then when the door got unlocked she walked in the back, so I realized, no, she wasn’t a patient.
So fast forward a few minutes. I’m sitting in the waiting room, waiting. And in walks this woman with one of those strollers where the baby is at chest height. I’ve seen her there with this baby before. She’s very thin, and the baby looks to be about a year old. The last time she was there I heard her saying “normally I wouldn’t bring him, but our babysitter was sick”, so I gave her a pass. But now I think she’s just a jerk. That’s probably unfair of me, but I can’t help it. Who brings an adorable toddler to a fertility clinic?! Especially in a freakish stroller that props him up so EVERYONE can see him.
What I wanted to say to her: “Seriously? You can afford fertility treatments but you can’t afford an extra $40 bucks to pay for a babysitter this morning? NO one here wants to see your sweet precious angel. We’re all fighting for one of our own”
What I actually said to her: Nothing. I think I even smiled in greeting her like I do for everyone.
The nurse calls me back and puts me in my room. I wait a few minutes and then the door opens and in walks….the not-patient doctor lady from the outside waiting area. Up close, I can see that she has a badge from our local hospital that says MD Resident. Now, I remember when I filled out my paperwork for the clinic there was a whole page about student doctors and there was a place I could sign if I didn’t want to interact with them. I didn’t do it because, again, overly polite. Also, I genuinely realize that they need practice and training just like anyone.
Today was not the day for it.
Anyway, in she comes and she fumbles to get her gloves on. The moment the door started to open I started to put my feet in stirrups. This ain’t my first rodeo. Then she PULLS BACK MY SHEET (you know, the modesty sheet?) WITH THE LIGHTS ON and says “Open your legs up for me”
What I wanted to say to her: “They’re in stirrups. That means they’re open.”
What I actually said to her: Nothing. I think I attempted to dislocate a hip and open my legs a little wider so she could get a full frontal view of EVERYTHING from my heart down to my kidneys with the lights on. Then the nurse had the common decency to turn the lights off.
Then this doctor in training put Mr. Probe in….and did nothing. She obviously had not paid attention in doctor school. She started frantically clicking buttons on the machine and the probe LITERALLY just sat there, in my vagina. Then Dr. Bad Bedside Manner came in. I have never been so happy to see him. She started to move the probe a little bit, but I could tell she wasn’t doing it right. I know what it’s supposed to feel like of course. After about three minutes (we ALL know this is way too long) I finally spoke up.
What I wanted to say to her: “Please give the probe to Dr. Bad Bedside Manner. You obviously have no idea what you’re doing”
What I actually said to her: “…Is there anything there?”
Thankfully, the doctor took over and the news is…mixed. There appear to be some follicles growing on the left, but they’re nowhere near big enough to ovulate. He thinks I came back in too early. He said I shouldn’t have come in until early next week. Now, the reason I come in early is because I typically respond to letrozole quickly. Usually three days after stopping the letrozole I’m ready to pop.
What I wanted to say to him: “Just be straight with me for once and tell me if this is going to happen or not. I always respond to letrozole FAST. Why aren’t you figuring this out?”
What I actually said to him: “…so, come back on Tuesday then? Okay. I can do that”
I know that in a fertility clinic environment you have to deal with not always getting to see your doctor, but I hate this. I want to see MY doctor. I want to know if this is going to work. Dr. Bad Bedside Manner said he thought there was a good chance they’d keep growing, but that there was also a chance they’d fizzle out and nothing would happen. So reassuring. I really feel like the latter is going to be what happens. I just want to know now. I already think it’s not going to happen. Let’s just start the prometrium and move on with our lives.
But no, I have to wait. It’s also a “no one is coming to work today” kind of day. I have four people to work two floors all day long. Luckily I’m getting some outside help. Otherwise with storytimes in the morning and a teen program in the afternoon I have no idea how we’d do it.
Why isn’t it working this time guys? He says the metformin shouldn’t be causing this-could it be the estrace? I know sometimes things just don’t happen, but this REALLY sucks. I’m tired of it. I’m sorry to always be a debbie downer these days. I’ll be fine, I just have to get through this really unpleasant day of work, and another short handed unpleasant day of work tomorrow. Because yes, it is my week to work Saturday. Isn’t that perfect?
Edit: I just had a patron come in (who comes in everyday) and tell me that I need to smile more. I naturally have what is commonly known as resting bitch face. My face is not naturally happy. It’s just not. That doesn’t mean I’m mean. I was polite to him, I did my job, I told him his due date. He said “I think you need to smile more” and I said “Well, I smile as much as I feel I need to” and he said “I don’t smile because I’m just doing what I can to get by-you should smile more” to which I didn’t say “LOOK JACKASS, YOU DON’T KNOW MY LIFE. YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I’M GOING THROUGH”.
I just smiled and he walked out. And then I teared up and had to get myself under control, fast. Because I’m a GODDAMN PROFESSIONAL GODDAMNIT.