I had my annual OB/GYN exam yesterday, and unlike most women who dread that day of the year because they hate having to spread their legs for the doctor, go through the personal questions, etc. For me, that part is a piece of cake. I figure that I’ve probably been to the fertility doc and/or OB/GYN 100 times over the last five years, so one more time doesn’t shake me at all.
What does bother me is seeing all of the pregnant gals lovingly rubbing their bellies and trading gazes with their husbands. I mentioned in a post last year that I think there should be a walled off area for the baby bump blessed, so that the rest of us don’t have to come into contact with them.
And, apparently I am shrinking. The med assistant who checked me in, measured me a good ½” shorter than I actually am – I am not 85 with osteoporosis.
The other thing that irked me was that I had to explain to TWO people, the medical assistant and my GYN, that “No, I’m not using birth control.” And, “No, I’m not trying to get pregnant.” I am now on my third GYN in three years because they keep moving to New England, so I’d never met this new one, but come on, “Check my effing file! You’ll see more than your fair share of documentation of all the ways I tried to get pregnant.” I hate having to relive all that.
And, they had me listed as being on Estrogen. Yeah, that was like two years ago when I was going through fertility treatments, and people my age really shouldn't be taking it for more than a few days to get the uterine line forming anyway. I'm not going through menopause.
It’s bad enough that my doctor’s office is in the same building and on the same floor, just steps away from my fertility doctor. Even the hallways smell the same – and it makes me think back to the days of when I actually had hope that I could get pregnant. Weird how smells will do that.
Actually, the only highlight to this experience was my drop-in at my old fertility doctor’s office. Unfortunately, he and his wife who is the head nurse, were at their other office, but the office/insurance manager ran out from behind her desk and gave me a big hug. Now that’s the kind of practice I like: hugs instead of getting harangued by people about birth control.