So, I had a doctor’s appointment this morning. Taking Joshua with me was actually quite humorous. Like when I took him to the bathroom with me so I could pee in a cup and he kept asking “Where Joshie cup!?!” So there’s that much, at least.
But this appointment was scheduled with Dr. With the NIH Fellowship. Hereafter and forever known as Dr. Blowhard.
He came in and seemed slightly annoyed that Joshua was there, like he’d never seen a small human before. Joshua, as if to give the man his toddler-middle-finger, was a dream child, sitting in the chair the whole time Dr. Blowhard and I “talked” and while we listened for New Girl’s heartbeat.
Joshua was probably more calm than I was. In fact, I know he was.
Dr. Blowhard walked in and said, “So, they did your ultrasound last time. Did you find out the sex?”
Did you fail Chart Reading 101??
Instead I said “Yes, it’s a girl.”
“Oh, congratulations! Did they look at your ovary to assess the cyst we found at the ultrasound in August? I don’t see it in your paperwork anywhere.”
So you CAN read a chart. INTERESTING.
“No, I don’t think so. Actually, no. She didn’t look for it.”
**Hold on to your horses kids. I’m about to lose it.**
“Well, when we do your c-section we’ll take a look.”
WHAT THE MOTHER LOVING LOVE!?!?!?!
” O_O. I AM NOT A C-SECTION. I AM A VBAC.”
“Oh, okay, so you’re a VBAC. Okay.”
“Yes. That’s supposed to be in my chart per Dr. iLike and my last visit.”
“What was the reason for your last c-section?”
“Failure. to. progress.”
“Oh, so how far along did you get?”
::more deep breath::
“7-8 centimeters and 90%. And then Dr. Impatient said my water had been broken for 24 hours and it was time to do a c-section.”
“Oh, so you didn’t get stuck at 7 for a while?”
“No. I NEVER GOT A CHANCE TO GET PAST 7-8!”
“Well, we’ll do an attempt at VBAC and I’ll put a note in your chart that we need to follow up on the cyst postpartum. How much did he ::waves hand nonchalantly in Joshua’s general direction:: weigh at birth?”
“Oh, so he was a big baby! Did you have your blood drawn already this morning for the glucose test?”
Uh, no. Because we decided I wouldn’t do that until 28 weeks like normal people and the last doctor to see me didn’t think it needed to be done until then and I trust his judgment more than yours.
Except I just said “No. Dr. iLike didn’t mention it at my last appointment.”
“Well, you were supposed to have that done at 24 weeks and repeated 28 weeks.”
“We’ll get you the glucose drink before you leave and you can do it at 28 weeks.”
“If you fail the 1 hour, we’ll have you back in for a 2 hour.”
“Oh, so you’re not doing a 3 hour test anymore?”
“Oh, so you had that done last time? You know, mothers who fail more than one screen are at greater risk for gestational diabetes. Did you have gestational diabetes with your last pregnancy?”
CAN YOU READ A FACKING CHART?!!?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!? Or is your ability to read a chart limited to only the parts you WANT to read?
Me: “No. I did not. And I passed the 3 hour test perfectly.”
“Well, failing that test is only one indicator of gestational diabetes. You still failed the 1 hour screen and then had a large baby. That’s an indicator of a problem.”
Except it’s not. The 1 hour glucose test is a screening test. The 3 hour test is the real test. Mothers routinely fail the 1 hour test and go on to pass the 3 hour test, which is the actual test. (See also: Me.) If failing the 1 hour test and passing the 3 hour test was an indicator that a mother had gestational diabetes then 1) there’d be no need for the 3 hour test or 2) there’d be no need for the 1 hour test and all mothers would go straight to the 3 hour test. But who am I to point out the fallacy in someone’s logic.
Instead I said: “His dad was a large baby, and is about 6’2″ now. Joshua was 22″ at birth. And he’s a tall almost 3 year old.”
“So some of his size may have been constitutional.”
GEE, YOU THINK?
More polite response: “Yes. I expected he’d be a large baby based on family history.”
At this point I climbed up on the table and laid back and Joshua, sweet boy, just kept sitting in the chair being awesome. Dr. Blowhard felt for my uterus, declared its positioning “perfect” and gooped me up to listen to New Girl’s heartbeat.
“Strong,” he said.
“Like her Mama,” I thought.
At this point, I was completely over being in that room with him. Completely. But I needed to ask him about the recurrent pain in my vagina bone (which I’ve neglected to write about because I’m afraid of what loonies I’ll attract with the phrase “vagina bone.”)
But, because I was there, when he asked if I had any more questions, I asked.
“Well, my only concern is some pain I’ve been having when I stand from sitting or if I’ve been in one position for too long. I sometimes feel like an old lady when I try to walk.”
I indicated the general region where I’m having the pain.
He says “Oh, that’s just your ligaments stretching so that your pelvis can accommodate the fetus.” And he went on to give me a quasi-anatomy lesson about how pregnancy works and how the body changes during pregnancy. While I just looked at Joshua and thought “This ain’t my first rodeo, pal.”
So then I asked another question, apparently because I’m stupid.
“At what point does this pain move from normal to abnormal pain that should concern me?”
“Oh, well, preterm labor is the same as regular labor except it occurs before38 weeks, but we can always try to stop the preterm labor with magnesium. If you’re having more than 4 or 5 contractions in an hour, you need to call us.”
Yes. That conversation went from one wherein I asked a very specific question about my vagina bone pain to one where he assumes I think I’m in labor. Because every woman who has ever had a pain during pregnancy MUST THINK SHE’S IN LABOR.
And then he says “I don’t think you’re experiencing preterm labor, but I can check your cervix if you want me to, though it’d really just be exposing you to a lot of unnecessary discomfort right now.”
Uh, no thanks, pal. Really. You’re not coming anywhere near my vagina–ever–if I can help it.
“Uhh, I really don’t think that’s the issue here. I’m pretty certain that I’m not in labor. Or preterm labor. I might have a few Braxton Hicks contractions here or there, but no, I’m not in labor. I’m good.”
So then I, because I cannot help myself, ask him if there are any suggestions for managing the pain.
And then he told me I should be exercising 5 days a week for an hour at a time–brisk walking, swimming, weight lifting.
(I’m not laughing about exercising during pregnancy. I should be exercising during pregnancy instead of eating bowls of ice cream and Nerds every night. I know this. But 5 hours a week? In my week? BWHAHAHAHHAHAHAH.)
At this point, he handed me my paperwork and I collected my things and Joshua and I walked down the hall toward the appointment desk. While we were walking, he called out and told me that the fact that I intend to VBAC this baby is, in fact, noted in my chart already, thanks to my conversation with Dr. iLike at the last appointment.
When I scheduled my next appointment, I made sure to tell the receptionist that I didn’t want to see Dr. Blowhard and she said “Is this something I should pass on to The Administrators.”
So she made a note on a separate piece of paper. I have no idea who The Administrators may be or where that note went or who might see it.
But I will not be seeing Dr. Blowhard again.
(If you finished this, you’re not a douchebag. Unlike Dr. Blowhard. My apologies for the length.)