Oh, you get lots of posts when the shit hits the fan don’t you?
I have to confess, this post title is slightly dramatic. I wrote it yesterday when I was trying to book an appointment to see a specialist closer to home. Turns out I couldn’t do that without a referral from my GP… which, you guessed it, I don’t have yet because I’ve only just moved. Marvellous. Not one to be deterred, I dragged my husband down to register yesterday so that I could make an appointment to see a GP who could then refer me. Alas no, that is not allowed. Of course not, silly me. You have to wait 24 hours for them to put you on the system, call back tomorrow. I cried. They didn’t budge. I could have climbed over the desk and added my own bloody name to the database in about 2 seconds flat. Anyway, I was bound by the red tape yesterday, bound I tell you.
Good news is I successfully managed to book a private scan for Thursday, and an appointment with my GP for today.
I sat in the waiting room. They were running very late. The doctor kept coming out and calling people in. There was a lady sat in front of me with her husband, a baby and a toddler. The baby kept pulling happy faces at me. I felt annoyed. Then the lady turned to her husband and said, “oh I hate that doctor. She is awful. She is so nasty and mean. She is the worst doctor in the world, I will never go to see her even if I think I am dying.”
I don’t know why, but that affected me so badly. I was obviously already feeling pretty stressed, but my anxiety just hit a new high once I started worrying about having to persuade the doctor that I really need help. Would she believe me? Would she just tell me I’m being silly and wait for the 12 week scan? Would she even refer me?
Infertility is really turning me into someone I don’t recognise. I am a proper nervous wreck at the moment and have been for sometime. I felt more stressed waiting to just go in and see the GP for a chat than I have done for interviews, or big exams, or even the effing viability scans. My body seems to have developed a whole life of its own where it just does whatever the fuck it likes irrespective of what I want, or what is going on in my head.
Anyway, panic was unfounded. I mean, I get it. I can tell the doctor ain’t one to suffer fools gladly. She won’t be writing any hypercondriac sick notes. Lucky for me, I am no fool so I was fine.
I can’t tell you how much better I feel. I did spent a large chunk of the appointment crying and trying to speak through snot and hyperventilation but I think I covered all the basics. The good news report (in light of my imminent forthcoming miscarriage, obviously “good news” is perhaps not exactly the phrase to use but whatever):
1. I was beside myself with the idea of booking a midwife (hour long!!) appointment when I am having a very highly likely non-viable pregnancy, nevermind booking the 12 week scan. The GP hasn’t booked me in for anything yet. She agreed we might as well wait it out and book it later if a miracle happens, pigs fly and my fragmenting, dwindling foetus glues it’s bits back together and starts randomly growing again.
2. She thought she could get me an NHS scan instead of my private one. Of course, they didn’t answer the phone while we were there but she just called me and she has booked me in for another early scan tomorrow morning (NHS! free!). She also told them that she thinks I need continuous monitoring for the next few weeks for the potential-ovary-torsion situation and the viable/non-viable foetus situation. Excellento.
3. She is happy to refer me wherever the hell I like. She can write me a letter on the day, and I can be on my merry way whenever.
So that’s it. Not exactly good news, but I won’t hang myself with the red tape any time today. I feel like I’m being looked after rather than thrown to the dogs. I think I will have probably avoided any emergency trips to A&E if they really are willing to just continue to monitor me, and once it’s all over I should be able to go privately quickly for another round of IVF.
So my next scan is now tomorrow instead of Thursday, and hopefully continuing hence forth for however many weeks this embryo clings to life for. I don’t think it will be long. My husband can’t come with me tomorrow so I hope I can keep my shit together. Apparently I have to take an overnight bag “just in case”. Bleugh.
I imagine I will update you with my ever increasing bad news shortly, lucky you.