August 24, Part 1: I'm Mad

I've been waiting to post this until after the follow up. That came a little sooner than expected! And with very surprising results - see Part 2 for the happy ending.


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I am so angry. Yesterday, I was sad and scared. But as we left the clinic, anger washed over me and displaced everything else. I attempted to console Eric when we got home, and then I went out on errands before I exploded like the sun gone supernova. Normally, I use blogging as a way to self-examine my emotions. I am constantly trying to prove that my emotions are either valid or nonsense. There's an interesting topic for further discussion. But today? Fuck all that.

What set all of this off? The words "I can't say if it's viable or not." Yesterday was the first ultrasound, and although they found the sac, they could not see inside on maximum magnification. The sac was smaller than it was supposed to be, and all the way at the back of my uterus, which made the ultrasound not so effective. I listened calmly, I asked questions, I got dressed. I burst into tears, I mourned, I worried. I made the follow up appointment for next week that would tell us the answer for sure because of the rate of growth that happens in that single week. But the longer I was at the clinic, the angrier I got. We left just in time to keep me from starting to mutter under my breath in front of the other couples in the waiting room.

The state of my embryo is not their fault, and they assured me that it was not mine. So why am I so angry? Because once again, the clinic treated me like a number. Until now, I've been too afraid to say anything publicly. But today? Fuck that.

Yesterday's ultrasound was performed by the fifth clinic doctor I have had during this cycle alone. I didn't recognize his name or his face. He didn't understand entirely what I was trying to communicate before we began about my cramping - he thought I was afraid of the procedure causing pain. He was not wrong, but I was actually trying to convey that I was very anxious that the ramped up cramping that morning was so different from previous that it meant something was wrong. Instead of addressing that, his face cleared into a patient smile when he thought he realized the cause of my anxiety. He told me to lie back and not to worry, he would be gentle.

Playing this exchange over and over in my head, I told myself that if my actual doctor had bothered to show up, she would have understood me. And then I remembered the last appointment I had with her, and how whatever concern I had at the time puzzled her when I first tried to explain it. I am so good at puzzling doctors, I'm beginning to think I may be speaking some alien language. But this post isn't about me. Not today. I beat myself up 24/7 in my own mind. I am my harshest critic, aware of all my flaws, constantly walking through life embarrassed at everything I do wrong or how badly I react to situations. But today? Fuck all that.

I think it's time to start at the beginning.

Looking for a fertility specialist, I had a referral sheet from my gynecologist, which had the names of a half dozen doctors at two clinics. I made the first appointment with the only female doctor on the list. At the first appointment, I was so at ease, I soon after cancelled the back up appointment at the other clinic. Dumb. Very, very dumb.

In April 2010 I was told that I was basically infertile, had a freak out, and then with Eric decided our next step would be to try IVF with donor eggs - her eggs, his swimmers, my body as incubator. The process of just prepping for all of this took forever. Tests and paperwork and searching for a donor. Then more tests and more paperwork and contracts and money. Lots and lots of money. And with that final check received, things changed at the clinic for me.

I believe it started with my nurse emailing me the wrong information on the medication calendar. The issue was quickly fixed, but then there were the unreturned emails. I thought I had just gotten a bad nurse, so I didn't say anything. There was the time that we went in for an ultrasound and my doctor was inexplicably absent - a doctor I'd never met before, a male doctor, performed the examination. Then there was the phone call to schedule the actual implantation procedure - my doctor would not be performing it because she had the day off. I finally said something, explaining that I had chosen the clinic almost solely on the fact that I needed a female doctor. The scheduler was very sympathetic, but of course couldn't do anything about the situation. The procedure had to happen on a specific date, so moving it wasn't an option. She assured me this is the way a multi-doctor clinic worked.

On the day of the procedure, I was comforted that my doctor would at least be the one I had met recently. The female nurse was unfamiliar, but her presence was comforting. The lab tech who just walked in through the back door (the door that my vagina, on full display, was directly pointed at) to introduce himself was male. The two men performed the procedure while the female nurse looked on.

Ten days later I was admonished for having taken a home pregnancy test. Hadn't my doctor told me not to? (No.) Didn't I know they weren't reliable? (Not according to the pages of fine print I read that came with each of the 3 tests I took that gave me negative results.) It was all up to my lab tech to explain this to me and console me. No doctor. Not even a nurse. And of course, the anticipated phone call later that day confirming what I already knew - I wasn't pregnant.

Flash forward a few months, and I finally get to see "my" doctor again. I saw her once or twice after that. Then it was back to doctor #2 (still male!) and the surprise of doctor #3 (also male). I believe it was doctor #3 that I had to question about my calendar - it stopped on the day of the procedure, didn't tell me what drugs to take that day, or what the weeks after that would be like. I think my nurse got scolded, because she called soon after we got home to explain the post-implantation schedule and then emailed it to me. Yes, this was a different nurse then the one from my last cycle. But did I mention she made the exact same mistake about the same medication as in the previous cycle? At least she caught the mistake herself before I could ask her about it. 

Then it was time for the procedure which would not be performed at my clinic at all, because they no longer did them there. And no, I wouldn't be seeing "my" doctor once again - each day there was a selected "procedure doctor". At least this 4th doctor was female, right? The day went great. The 10 day wait went great. The phone call with the good news went great, as did the mini-break trip to the ocean we were on in case the news was bad (we could be alone) or good (we could celebrate intimately). The past few weeks have been... weird. Not only have I had a hard time believing this was real, but the physical side effects have been incessant.

And then yesterday, the day we were supposed to finally see "my" doctor again, as well as our first view of the little keiki. Instead, I got doctor #5, no explanation of "my" doctor's absence, and no vision of the keiki. Just those terrifying eight words. Afterwards, Doc #5 said next week's ultrasound should be performed by "my" doctor because she knew my case better. (Was the correct response there "duh" or "not really"?)

I was filled with a familiar sense of deja vu when the check-out clerk got a frustrated look on her face. "My" doctor would not be available until Thursday. Two extra days of not knowing and waiting in terror and sorrow. She had Monday off, with Tuesday and Wednesday fully booked. With no other choice, we scheduled for Thursday, but she promised to talk to "my" doctor about fitting me in sooner - after she got back from vacation in 2 days.

To be fair, "my" doctor read her email on her day off and gave the green light for a Tuesday appointment, about which I was called within minutes of getting home. It's just a bit too little and a bit too late though.

I contemplated going to another clinic for the 2nd attempt, and now that I'm faced with a strong possibility of a need for a 3rd attempt, I'm considering it again. But oh yah, the same problem still exists. The other clinic I was referred to, the one I cancelled my preliminary appointment with so long ago, is the only fertility clinic in the area as respected as my original clinic. And they bought my clinic in January. Doctor #4 and #5 were unfamiliar because they are doctors from this other clinic.

My only other option has become moot.

This is the part where I should remember to be reasonable. After all, none of these annoyances have been grievous errors. Right? Fuck that.

I'm mad.