U.B.'s 6.5 month appointment, AKA Dr. Suck v. 2.0
After my last prenatal appointment with my genuinely nice and caring, but seemingly a little loopy nurse practitioner, I scheduled this visit with one of the practice's many O.B.s. I will be griping about him shortly, but the important stuff first: U.B.'s house measures 29 cm (and here I am at 30 weeks, meaning U.B. is growing perfectly); U.B.'s heartbeat is great; my blood pressure and weight gain are peachy. So far I have gained 27 lbs, which, if you account for the Christmas cookies I have yet to eat, puts me possibly a little over my end-goal of repeating my total Isaac-carrying weight gain of 35 lbs. Oh well.
Dada and Isaac came with me and waited in the waiting room while I did my thing. Isaac did his part to reassure all the first-timers out there waiting nervously with their husbands. Dada said Isaac saw another little girl come in with her pregnant mommy; he went up to the girl and said "Hello!!" before giving her a hug. And then he asked the receptionist to turn the TV on Sesame Street, and as we left said "Bye, Cookie" to Cookie Monster. He is a walking advertisement for procreation, my buddy is. Except for the no-sleeping part.
Meanwhile, there was me, and the waiting. This board-certified dude made me wait for 45 minutes, you know, because his time is more valuable than mine, my husband's, and my son's put together. I instantly hated him: he is the kind of doctor that thinks it's best to carry about him an air of absolute authority, yet has no ability whatsoever to listen. This kind of doctor (and he is usually a dude) cracks me up, because I likely have more education than he in the area in which he is trying to operate.
After strolling in abominably late, with no apology whatsoever, he asks me a few lame questions that were covered by my N.P. in previous visits (and marked as such in my record). He measures me, and I ask, as I always do, how big I am. His response? "Your mother and mother-in-law may have their own opinions about how big you should or shouldn't be, but the only opinion that matters is mine." Thanks, genius, but I just want to know for myself. He then took about a year to find U.B.'s heartbeat, which I'm sure my N.P. would have found in a jiff because she knows (again, from reading my records) that U.B. is already lodged head-down. After the medical business, he informs me I am now on the 2-week visit schedule (um, read my record: isn't it two weeks since my last visit, when N.P. told me the 2-week visits should begin?), and so I need to come back in two weeks. I tell him I will be out of town for awhile, and won't be able to come in again until the third week of January. He "reiterates" what I said, writing down for the scheduler to find me an appointment in the *first* week of January. ARGH.
Oh, but none of these are the best part, the one that really makes this woman-doctor version of Dr. Suck worth blogging about. Editor's note -- this part requires a disclaimer to be fully enjoyed: I, Isaac's mom, am not and never have been a skank. I do not have herpes. In fact, our entire household is disease-free. Shocker!
Back to Dr. Suck... here is what transpired shortly after he got in the room.
Dr. S: So, has anyone talked to you yet about a herpes treatment plan?
Me: Um, no...
Dr. S: Well, then. It's very important that we have a treatment plan in place to control your herpes. If you should have an outbreak when you deliver, you could pass the disease on to the baby.
Me: Um. Um. (half-chuckling) I don't have herpes.
Dr. S: Oh! Oh. Um, well, it says here in your record...
Me: I get cold sores. Oral herpes. I don't have genital herpes.
Dr. S: Oh! Oh. Um, well, when did we test for that? We don't usually test for that.
Me: You didn't. They tested for it, along with the disease-equivalent of the kitchen sink, at my old practitioner's in Seattle. LIKE IT SAYS IN MY RECORD. (another note -- my previous O.B. said that around 80% of the population tests positive for oral herpes. Who doesn't get cold sores?)
Dr. S: Oh! Well, um, I guess that's taken care of, then, isn't it?
And then this lamewad doesn't even apologize for his sheer incompetence at not recognizing the difference between HSV-1 (oral herpes) and HSV-2 (skank herpes). I made sure to tell the scheduler NOT to reschedule me with him. Like, EVER.
Oh, but U.B. and I are just fine. This pregnancy is a snap even compared to my extremely easy pregnancy with Isaac. I can still wear my wedding ring -- I had to take it off when I was 4.5 months along with Isaac. Now, if we could only think of a name...
Dada and Isaac came with me and waited in the waiting room while I did my thing. Isaac did his part to reassure all the first-timers out there waiting nervously with their husbands. Dada said Isaac saw another little girl come in with her pregnant mommy; he went up to the girl and said "Hello!!" before giving her a hug. And then he asked the receptionist to turn the TV on Sesame Street, and as we left said "Bye, Cookie" to Cookie Monster. He is a walking advertisement for procreation, my buddy is. Except for the no-sleeping part.
Meanwhile, there was me, and the waiting. This board-certified dude made me wait for 45 minutes, you know, because his time is more valuable than mine, my husband's, and my son's put together. I instantly hated him: he is the kind of doctor that thinks it's best to carry about him an air of absolute authority, yet has no ability whatsoever to listen. This kind of doctor (and he is usually a dude) cracks me up, because I likely have more education than he in the area in which he is trying to operate.
After strolling in abominably late, with no apology whatsoever, he asks me a few lame questions that were covered by my N.P. in previous visits (and marked as such in my record). He measures me, and I ask, as I always do, how big I am. His response? "Your mother and mother-in-law may have their own opinions about how big you should or shouldn't be, but the only opinion that matters is mine." Thanks, genius, but I just want to know for myself. He then took about a year to find U.B.'s heartbeat, which I'm sure my N.P. would have found in a jiff because she knows (again, from reading my records) that U.B. is already lodged head-down. After the medical business, he informs me I am now on the 2-week visit schedule (um, read my record: isn't it two weeks since my last visit, when N.P. told me the 2-week visits should begin?), and so I need to come back in two weeks. I tell him I will be out of town for awhile, and won't be able to come in again until the third week of January. He "reiterates" what I said, writing down for the scheduler to find me an appointment in the *first* week of January. ARGH.
Oh, but none of these are the best part, the one that really makes this woman-doctor version of Dr. Suck worth blogging about. Editor's note -- this part requires a disclaimer to be fully enjoyed: I, Isaac's mom, am not and never have been a skank. I do not have herpes. In fact, our entire household is disease-free. Shocker!
Back to Dr. Suck... here is what transpired shortly after he got in the room.
Dr. S: So, has anyone talked to you yet about a herpes treatment plan?
Me: Um, no...
Dr. S: Well, then. It's very important that we have a treatment plan in place to control your herpes. If you should have an outbreak when you deliver, you could pass the disease on to the baby.
Me: Um. Um. (half-chuckling) I don't have herpes.
Dr. S: Oh! Oh. Um, well, it says here in your record...
Me: I get cold sores. Oral herpes. I don't have genital herpes.
Dr. S: Oh! Oh. Um, well, when did we test for that? We don't usually test for that.
Me: You didn't. They tested for it, along with the disease-equivalent of the kitchen sink, at my old practitioner's in Seattle. LIKE IT SAYS IN MY RECORD. (another note -- my previous O.B. said that around 80% of the population tests positive for oral herpes. Who doesn't get cold sores?)
Dr. S: Oh! Well, um, I guess that's taken care of, then, isn't it?
And then this lamewad doesn't even apologize for his sheer incompetence at not recognizing the difference between HSV-1 (oral herpes) and HSV-2 (skank herpes). I made sure to tell the scheduler NOT to reschedule me with him. Like, EVER.
Oh, but U.B. and I are just fine. This pregnancy is a snap even compared to my extremely easy pregnancy with Isaac. I can still wear my wedding ring -- I had to take it off when I was 4.5 months along with Isaac. Now, if we could only think of a name...
posted by Claire at 6:53 PM
2 Comments:
OMG! If only you could have told him "Thanks for the blog fodder dude!"
Speechless...Way to go, bedside manner!
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