Yesterday I went to my new OB/GYN's office for appointment one of two to get my IUD removed. I went alone because after rescheduling a few times, it was too late for anyone else to rearrange their schedules. I guess I hadn't thought about this appointment for a few days because about half way there I remembered it was with a male doctor.
*Enter Trigger* I talked myself down. I was driving. That was no place to have a panic attack about the inevitable exam that would occur shortly. Luckily, a friend had called to keep me 'company' on the ride. I pull in 15 minutes before I had to walk inside and start filling out 'new patient paperwork' (which ended up just being quick HIPPA forms). I sat in my van crying. Trying to pull myself together enough so the receptionists wouldn't think I had hormone issues. Momma Eli was online and keeping me company all the way from Quebec. I pull myself together again and slowly wander inside after 10 minutes of anxiety over seeing the doctor. Inside, the reception was kind. She handed me the forms and went on about her business. I started to freak out a little more. The office smelled just like the hospital I delivered in. The floors looked just like the hospital floors. I thought perhaps they have to go by a standard flooring, like standard procedures, like my 'standard procedure.' I really couldn't get over the smell. It made me nauseous. Eli reminded me to sing a song I could think of without too much thought. I think I surprised her when I first thought of Celine Dion's early French songs. (LOVE Celine!) She also suggested I write down a brief note to the doctor so I didn't have to explain why I was so upset and have that note act as my 'partner.' All I could write was this: "Hi. I'm Jenn. I have post traumatic stress disorder from giving birth to my daughter 23 months ago." That's all. Maybe next time I should just print out this entire blog instead. I tried not to cry in the waiting room, but tears came anyway. And I was shaking. Not enough to be noticeable though I don't think. It didn't take long to be called back to an intake room where a nurse took my weight and height. I've lost 6 pounds. Way to go me! I thought to myself, "I should tell this nurse what's up. I'm sure she can alert the doctor before he has to ask me." But I couldn't muster even that. I'm not sure why, the words just wouldn't come out of my mouth. And of course, I wished I had written more in my blurb suggested by Eli. She asked intake questions such as do you smoke, do you drink, how many times have you been pregnant, how many live births.... This only made the tears come faster. But I didn't want her to see me crying. I just couldn't tell her. How would she understand? She left the room and I reached for a tissue. And I grabbed my notebook to write down what I was feeling so I could come back here and tell you all about everything. Again with the smell. And the floors. And now it sounded like everyone was stomping around in the hallway. Do sounds heighten when you're panicking or anxious? She came back in to escort me to a patient room and noticed I had been crying by now. She asked if I was okay, I nodded. Why couldn't I tell her? So now, I wait. With the smell, and the floors, and the really loud stomping people in the hallway. There's laughing in the hallway, have you ever noticed nurses and doctors do an awful lot of laughing while patients are impatiently awaiting them in rooms? They were awfully loud. I stared at the bed that is in every patient room with the examining lamp next to it and could see myself getting an exam. I could see myself getting THE exam from when our daughter was born. When I was violated, it was a hospital bed, but of course this bed signifies the same exam that is about to happen. Shaking again, I heard a male in the hallway. I felt like throwing up. I didn't. I shook more with each door creek, until my own patient door creeked open. I quickly finished writing notes in my notepad which was on my lap. I thought to myself in a split second: I have to pee. I downed my coffee right before I walked in. That was stupid. The doctor barged into the room like a bull in a china shop. He joked about the essay I must be writing in the notebook and nearly snatched it off my lap. "Just some thoughts," I mumbled. I felt like a child right then. He sat in his chair and hunched down to eye level with me. Then he started talking to me like a two year old. I felt disrespected. He talked to me like I didn't know anything about my body or birth control. He was also very loud. But maybe that was hypersensitivity. I shook some more as he talked AT me. He finished his one sided conversation about my IUD and told me to "take (my) bottoms off so (he) could explore what was going on." I'm not sure why, but that made me really cry. I was done. I blurted out the question asking if he'd have a nurse in the room with him for the exam. I knew the answer would be yes. I'm not sure why I felt the need to ask, but I did. The answer was indeed: yes, of course. Followed promptly by: "Oh. You're crying. Why are you crying? Did you want a female doctor? Why didn't you get a female doctor?" Me, blubbering: "They had scheduling problems." He continued to freak out a little bit and rushed me to the receptionists to reschedule with a female doctor. And he rushed off. I'm sure he was freaked. I'm sure his reaction was standard. I'm sure he didn't want to put me through something I didn't want to go through, and I greatly appreciate that. Maybe I'll write him a note. I do wish, though, that he would have taken a few minutes to decompress with me and let me answer why I was crying. I would have answered. And I would have been okay. I think. But, he's an OB/GYN, not a therapist. I get it. I was both relieved and disappointed. I guess I'll have to try again in March with a female doctor. I thought I was okay afterwards, but I was so agitated all day. My husband took the day off from work to be with me and our kids, even though I told him to go. I'm glad he didn't.
1 Comment
Serena
2/28/2013 12:39:35 pm
(hugs)
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