Just So We’re On The Same Page.

 

 

There’s a lot I wish I could say to my doctor.

To my fertility specialist:

1. Despite the fact that I keep showing up and paying you, I do not want to be here. I’m sure you’re a great person and it’s nothing against you, it’s just that no part of me likes going through any of this process.

2. I’m not as calm as I look. Actually, I’m kind of psychotic when it comes to my fertility. Trust me, I’m a nut. My husband, family, co-workers, Facebook friends & complete strangers that read my blog will all tell you the same thing.

3. While I don’t have an impressive degree, I am referred to as Doctor Google. No matter what you tell me, I will go home and look it up – just to be sure you’re right. It’s not that I don’t believe you. I’m a touch OCD and I need to hear the same thing from 683 sources to believe it’s solid information.

4. I respect you. I respect all that you’re doing to help me. But if you think you’re the only person I’m seeing, you need a reality check. I’m kind of a whore when it comes to fertility doctors. (I also have no qualms about going to chiropractors, acupuncturists or psychics. Don’t take it personally.)

5. I want to feel important. I am not just your paycheck. I’m an emotionally fragile woman who feels broken. You need to treat me as such. I’m not saying you have to baby me and talk to me like I’m a child, I’m saying I need to think you care even if you don’t.

6. DO NOT -oh I mean this one – DO NOT ORDER UNNECESSARY TESTS. (What I’m about to say is going to confuse the shit out of anyone reading this.) I do NOT have Sickle Cell Anemia. Do not tell me you want to test me for it. I have PCOS. If you start ordering things to make more money, I will drop you. Fast.

Readers – I legitimately and very recently had a doctor tell me she wanted to test me for Sickle Cell after looking at my ultrasound results … as if that had ANYTHING to do with my poly-cystic ovaries.

7. Infertility is more than just not being able to reproduce. It’s my body. It’s my marriage. It’s my self-esteem. Please know that it’s not just a diagnosis. It’s my life.

8. There is a part of me that thinks I can cure myself with herbal tea and Primrose Oil.

9. Your ultrasound wand freaks me out. A lot. I think I have PTSD.

10. Speaking of ultrasounds, that gel is really, really cold. A simple warning would be nice.

11. Do I really have to remove ALL of my clothes? It seems a little ridiculous.

12. I am ready and willing to try and treatment, procedure or clinical trial you’ve got if it means there’s a chance. If you tell me to run around my backyard 4 times while singing John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt after sex, I will.

13. I’m not sure what happens after this life, but if there is a hell, I’d have to imagine it’s comparable to your waiting room.

14. On the rare occasion that I actually let you see me get emotional, please don’t freak out and be awkwardly uncomfortable. Hand me a tissue and understand I am only human.

15. Despite everything I just said, I do trust you. And I’m glad you’re here during this exhausting process. I promise, if I’m able to, I’ll send you a picture of our newborn one day & be eternally grateful for your help.

– j