I went for my second opinion on Friday in regards to a possible hysterectomy. A week & 1/2 before I went I sent over my records & told them while scheduling the appointment that it was a surgical consult for a possible hysterectomy. I wanted my doctor to be prepared. Jon went with me (to help me undress if necessary, you know, the whole couldn’t use my left arm thing). Dr. came in and we started disscussing my situation. I started out by stating that even though I’m young and childless I’m perfectly ok with not being able to get pregnant. Dr. then told me that she hadn’t read my chart and knew nothing about my dilemma. Nice. So we started from scratch and I went through the whole thing. She told me I was a good candidate for a hysterectomy and that while usually the IUD is a good option, that since drugs haven’t worked for me in the past that the best bet would be just to skip right to the surgery. I asked could she do the surgery. Then she offered these pearls:
Oh I don’t do that kind of surgery. And even if I did I don’t like to just meet someone and operate right away. I like to develop a relationship.
Ok, look that’s great. But can we not fast track our “friendship” and skip the sleepovers and coffee dates and get right to the uterus removal??
Then:
What you need to do is find yourself the best surgeon who specializes in laproscopic hysterectomies and you’ll be all set.
Great. Cause that’s how they are listed in the phone book. Suck ass doctors on pages 1-22 and Surgeons Who Won’t Kill You on pages 23-50. I asked how was a regular person supposed to know that and she said she’d find some doctors for me.
Oh, and don’t let me forget this one:
Well, since you don’t want children of your own, I’d go ahead with the hysterectomy.
Nah, who wants kids of their own? I’m all about the rental children. You know, the ones we can send back when they need braces or fail to secure a decent scholarship.
I obviously won’t be using her services again. Another $40 wasted on a ridiculous conversation, no exam, and useless tears while I bleed through my clothes onto the exam table.
So yesterday the referred doctor’s office (located downtown at least 30 minutes away) called at 1pm. “We can see you at 1:30 or in May. But not before you get your records sent over.” Some people go postal when they snap. I’m going to go all uterine on somebody’s punk ass toot suite if someone doesn’t help me soon.
Bless Your Heart 