Today my desktop diary says: -
There is nothing good or bad, but thinking makes it so.
Yesterday was a "good/bad" day - or to be more accurate it was one of those days when you are told there is good news and bad news.
I met with my Fertility Consultant yesterday - GOOD NEWS = I got to see him and not one of his "Assistants" who go over the same basic things again and again, and always end up going into his office to disturb his consultations to check what they should be doing! I kid you not, Dear Reader, but I know more about fertility and gynaecological issues that most Registrars!
Our appointment was at 13:40, we actually went in to see him at 14:25 - BAD NEWS = A Fertility Consultant's waiting room is a silent, foreboding place. The careworn faces of the "Infertility-Rejects" (me included) anxiously awaiting their call to the consulting room, watching each other warily like hunted mammals ready to pounce on any speck of "baby dust" that may be floating in the ether, wondering if the others there are "worse off" than them? The silent looks exchanged, the visible wince when your full name is called (you see, you wish you could be totally anonymous and that somehow you wish your name were not associated with the shame of having to speak to a complete stranger about your most intimate issues). And woe betide the Secondary Infertility patient (or "Half Infertile" as I like to call them) who dares to turn up with their progeny (X) in tow! If looks could kill, there would be their scattered, mutilated bodies left in the waiting room, as we "Full Infertiles" stare with envy at the oblivious little family group, seemingly rubbing our faces in the dirt they call "In an ideal World we would like a little brother or sister for X, but actually we are OK if we are left a family of 3!".
(Only once did I laugh at such a scene - it was about two years ago, we were sat in the Consultant's waiting room, and a couple came out of the room with their toddler - my husband turned to me and straight faced said "Job Done". I could not stop laughing at the thought that if only it were as easy as going into the office/time machine to come out 40 minutes later with a fully fledged toddler!)
We get into the Consultant's office to be met by the fresh-faced 20-something student who is shadowing him. A cursory "You don't mind if my student sits in on your consultation do you?" is thrown our way, and before we have time to say "Well actually, yes I do mind...it's bad enough talking to you about the intimate trials of my fertility quest, I don't really feel like sharing them with your pimply-faced-uber fertile student thank you very much!", our Consultant has already launched into his usual opening gambit of, "So remind me, how old are you now?" MORTIFYINGLY BAD NEWS!
The Consultant reviews my file - or more accurately asks me to review the "story so far"!! - and discusses my latest ultrasound scan to say in his opinion I do not have hydrosalpinx (a blocked and fluid filled fallopian tube) which had been previously flagged on an ultrasound in May - the large mass of fluid they saw could "just" be the fluid from a recently burst cyst (oh, so that's OK then...NOT) - or just be something that is a regular occurrence for me - GOOD NEWS = no surgery needed, no reason to not go straight ahead and have more IVF treatment!
The trouble is this is what I heard: -
"You don't have hydrosalpinx, your uterus looks nice and smooth, and normal, your ovaries are scarred but one of them is normal (Dear reader, the other has been naughty and has been told to face the wall of my pelvis!) and you should get on and have more and more treatments because this is a "numbers game" and you are not getting any younger and.....we really have no idea why treatment after treatment keeps failing....and maybe you are just going to be one of those statistics where nothing you do is ever going to work..........okay? Good Luck....Bye now! Next!" BAD BAD BAD NEWS!
 Tell me what to do and what is wrong with me goddammit! You've had 15 years...3 operations and numerous tests - you must have a b****y clue by now!
|
Why don't my ovaries come with a bloomin' amber light "low fuel" indicator to tell me that my reserve of viable eggs is nearly empty and save me all the heartache?
Why doesn't a little red flashing light go off either side of pelvis to tell me 1) if I have ovulated and 2) whether the egg is viable or even whether it has got down my tube and is not floating free in my pelvis somewhere so I don't have to do the "have I ovulated-have I not ovulated-shall we do the "baby dance"-shall we not do the "baby dance" fiasco each month?
Why do male doctors underestimate the mental trauma and crashing despair that each failed IVF cycle rains down upon the heads of the poor, delusional, hormonally imbalanced, tragic specimens who put themselves through the mangle that is called IVF?
My husband (bless his glass-half-full-cotton socks) came out of the Consultation thinking it was good news that I did not have to have another operation and we could start thinking about more IVF sooner rather than later. I sat in the car going home with the words, "What the effin hell do we do now?" going round and round my head!
Good news is only good news if they finish the sentence with, "Go home, you are cured, enjoy the rest of your life!".
It is not good news when these Snake-Oil-Salesman-Fertility-Doctors are saying that infertility treatment is a "numbers game - the more treatments you have the more likely you are to have success!"
This isn't like buying a Lottery scratch card, revealing Nada, and thinking "Oh well, better luck next time!". This is my life, these are my hopes hanging from a single-fraying-thread, this is my hard earned money being quite literally flushed down the toilet with each non-implanted embryo.
Good news would be: -
1. When mankind has evolved far enough that the ability to reproduce would be directly correlated with IQ - then at least I wouldn't have had to walk by the undoubtedly-intellectually-challenged-chain-smoking-couple I saw today, when I was on my way to the hospital, pushing their two children in prams with one more in tow, at 3pm on working-day afternoon when at least one of the couple should have been hard at work (when in reality they had probably just got up and got to the Post Office to collect their Benefit money); or
2. If fertility increased with age, then I wouldn't have had to deal with the teenage mum-to-be who was looking at her scan photo in the lift coming out of the hospital today! or;
3. If Fertility treatment was free to all on the NHS, along side the free treatment that life-long smokers/drinkers get when their lungs/livers are ravaged by their chosen lifestyle path even when they have been told to stop their habits over and over again by health care providers.
To quote Jim Royle (from the BBC TV "Royle Family" sitcom) - GOOD NEWS, MY ARSE!:(
Source: http://thebecomingaparenttrap.blogspot.com/2010/08/good-news-my.html
0 nhận xét: on "Good News, my a*$*"
Post a Comment