Saturday, February 28, 2009

Our first visit to the gynecologist



Cam and I went to see the gynecologist to get my labs done and meet the doctor that would be in delivery if – god forbid – I have to go to the hospital as a last resort. The midwife, Sue said that it wouldn’t be a problem for me to decline any services or tests that I didn’t want. With my history of pap-smears being completely normal every time, I didn’t see any point in scraping around in my personal canal and causing any unnecessary bleeding. I wanted to just simply go in and get my blood work labs, talk to the doctor and be on my way. After all, I don’t plan on going to the hospital anyway.

So we were greeted by the nursing assistant, who immediately killed our ears with her high-pitched voice. I got weighed, my blood pressure was checked, peed in a cup…all the regular stuff you would expect. She then asked if I had it confirmed by a doctor that I am in fact pregnant. I said, “Technically, no…” Before I could finish what I was saying, she immediately said, “Okay, I’ll go ahead and do a pregnancy test,” and she disappeared out of the room.

She came back with the news I’ve known for over 13 weeks now and said, “Congratulations, you’re pregnant.”
I said, “Thanks,” while trying not to roll my eyes. I’ve already heard the heartbeat twice for crying out loud!

Then she proceeded to rattle off the 100 things they planned on doing to me for the day’s visit including checking for gonorrhea, syphilis, and doing a pap. I tried to slow her down by letting her know that I wasn’t interested in anything, but getting my blood work done and talking to the doctor since I was already set up to have a home birth with a midwife. I reiterated that I was not interested in a pap.

She replied with, “Well we’re going to be in there getting a swab for gonorrhea and syphilis anyway, are you sure you don’t want a pap?”

By this point, I was really confused and feeling like I was loosing my senses. First of all, I never gave my permission for anyone to get “in there.” Secondly, was my body becoming a poking an prodding ground for these people to use in order to add another charge for the insurance company to cover so they could make a few more dollars for each test done? As I said before, all my paps in the past have been completely normal. I know I don’t have gonorrhea or syphilis and I definitely don’t want anyone scraping around inside be to cause any unnecessary bleeding.

Of course, I thought of all these things in my head, but all I could get out of my mouth was, “I don’t want a pap because I don’t want any unnecessary bleeding…” Again, before I could finish, she said in an overly-sappy tone, “Aww, I know it’s scary, but don’t worry, a pap won’t cause a miscarriage. Are you sure you don’t want one? We HAVE to test for gonorrhea and syphilis anyway…”

Feeling defeated, I finally just agreed and fell my stomach drop as I watched her lay all the instruments out on the counter – ready to scrape around inside me. I felt so pushed over and stepped on. She didn’t even listen to me. I never said I was worried about having a miscarriage. I just didn’t want any unnecessary bleeding.

“We’re also going to need you to take all your clothes off and cover yourself in these drapes for a complete physical. Cindy will be right with you.”

Alright, I was glad to be rid of the high-pitched sprite of an assistant, but take all my clothes off? I never agreed to that either. Is listening to the patient even on the radar? What about asking me if I’m okay with taking all my clothes off?
I just looked over at Cam with a longing for help. He immediately said, “Don’t do anything you don’t want to. Speak up for yourself.”

I shook my head feeling sick, not knowing what to do. I didn’t want to cause an unnecessary scene by protesting, but I also didn’t want them poking and prodding at me when I knew full well that it was unnecessary. I asked myself, “Why don’t I want to cause a scene? What does it matter what these people think?” The answer was clear. It didn’t matter if I caused a scene or what these people thought. I could always simply find another doctor willing to help me. I could always just walk right out the door if I felt uncomfortable. So I decided to keep my clothes on and wait.

Cindy came in after a time. I guess she was the back-up doctor, but I thought she was the nurse practitioner. Anyway, she introduced herself and shook my hand as a formality. I could tell from her piercing stare and rigid face that she came in already frustrated with me from what she heard from the last gal. She proceeded to sit down and tell me all the things they were going to do to me. It was kind of like a recording duplicate to what the last lady said. Are these people or robots?

I told her that all I really wanted was to get my basic labs done and talk to the doctor. She was immediately insulted and went into explaining to me why it was important for me to have a complete chart with them. I nodded and told her that I was planning on having a home birth with a midwife and simply wanted to have a back-up plan with a doctor in case anything went wrong. She again told me that it was necessary for them to do everything they were planning.

I replied with, “I don’t like that I’m not in charge of my own health care. I really feel like I’m not being listened to right now. I’d really like to talk to the doctor.”

She said, “Well I really don’t think he’s available right now. I’ll go see if he can come in, but I’m not making any promises.”

She put her nose toward the sky and shut the door behind her and we waited for the doctor. He of course came in even more frustrated with me than the last two people combined. I guess when a patient is uncooperative it puts a wrench in the system. He shook my hand and asked me what was going on. I told him that I felt like I wasn’t being listened to.

“Let me tell you first and foremost, I am not a backup doctor,” he said, “When you see me, you are my patient. I have to offer you everything available and you have the option of declining if you want, but I still have to offer it to you. If you decline, it means I won't get paid for it.”

“I understand. That’s exactly what I want,” I replied, “I had to tell the first lady three times that I didn’t want a pap smear and even then somehow I ended up agreeing to it.”

As we talked further, I think he realized I wasn’t the raging, belligerent lunatic the others made me out to be and his attitude relaxed. We were able to finish the visit on my terms, which is how it should be. People should be in charge of their own bodies and health. It’s a pretty basic concept of human rights that doesn’t seem to be important in our society.

We listened to the heartbeat and it sounded great. I left the office feeling emotionally exhausted, but also grateful to have such a good advocate on my side. Cam helped me follow through with exactly what I wanted. He simply observed what was happening and intervened when my own judgment was getting clouded. If it wasn’t for him, I would not have had the strength to follow through with exactly what I went in there to accomplish in the first place.

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