My Story

The chronicle of the journey from infertility, to miscarriage, to finally raising twin girls born in June 2012.

Thursday, June 30, 2011

Medical update

The nurse called and my last prolactin level is 18.something.  So fully back into the normal range.  Therefore, while I still think they should have tested this just before transfer, my failure to get pregnant from the FET can not be "blamed" on them not running that test, but rather I have to just go with "oh well, it didn't work this time".

I did tell her that I wanted it noted that my prolactin levels need to be checked shortly before we transfer in future attempts.  It may not make a difference, but knowing that it will be looked at takes that source of concern out of my hands.  Hopefully that will make it less of a concern overall.

And we have learned that my body really does chemically react to whatever emotional stress I'm experiencing.  From now on, the week of and after a transfer for me will require a bit of luxury in order to keep me as calm as possible.  So those weeks will be full of some guilt free indulgences.  Chocolate administered as I feel necessary, massages, chilling out in general.  And we're probably going to do acupuncture during the next attempt.  I dunno what that actually does, but studies show that it does improve your chances, and lying down on a table a chilling out for an hour or so during those appointments can't be a bad thing, even if the actual acupuncture itself does nothing.

And some other good news, the clinic is still figuring out how to treat a fat person, but it's looking more and more like they will indeed decide to go ahead and treat us.  So it's very likely that we can proceed in August whether I succeed in losing any weight or not.  Yay.

While I had her on the phone, I asked her to talk to the Dr. about that little joke he made.  Just a recap of what I'm referring to, during one of my ultrasounds, we briefly discussed how the clinic is currently debating the BMI cutoff point on which they'll do egg retrievals.  And the doctor ended that discussion by throwing out the little comment "Well, telling someone we won't help them to get pregnant is sure motivation to lose weight!"

Dear Doctor Douchebag,

I'm not fat because I lack motivation.  I'm fat because I have failed every single day of my life to be thin.  It's not a state of being that I enjoy and I have tried several times to change it.  I have a permanent scar on my hand from opening a can of diet food when I was doing one of those crash diet programs in high school.

I absolutely despise my body.  I always have.  I hate it for being fat.  I hate it for being infertile.  I hate it for failing to protect my girls from the infection that took them.  I hate it, hate it, hate it.  And I'm forced to live in it every minute of my life. If I could chop it off and no longer be associated with it, I would do it in a heartbeat.

While I was on your table, naked, with my legs up in stirrups, you took the two most painful truths that I live with every day and made a joke of them.  And in the process, you revealed your general disdain for fat people, ie - me.  I know that it didn't even occur to you that such a comment would cut to quick like it did because having a problem with fat people is still completely socially acceptable.  What you said to me is akin to calling an African American adult man "boy". 

And you said it while you were in a position of power over me.  I had to have that ultrasound done at that very minute.  Therefore, I could not sit up, call you out for the prick that you are, and leave as I wanted to.  You held the power, and as a result, I had to suck up your little comment and take it.  You not only said something that hurt me, but you took away my ability to at least regain some dignity and pride by telling you where to stick it.

And you made me cry.  That evening, I could hear that stupid comment in my head repeated over and over and over again, and I cried.  For hours.  I still cry when I think about it.  I suspect that your little comment will revisit my brain for years to come.

And now, while you are debating whether or not you will continue to accept me as a patient, I have to go into your office, look at your face and beg you to please consider me worthy of assisting.  Do you have any clue how deeply it hurts to have to beg someone to allow you to become a mother?  It's one of the main reasons I didn't go the adoption route.  Being judged hurts like hell. 

Whenever I come in for my follow-up appointment, I expect and demand an apology.  Now that your nurse is informing you of what you said and the effect that it had, I expect and demand that you display horror in yourself for causing that kind of pain.  If I get an off the cuff, placating apology, I will call you out on it and it will speak volumes about your character.

You have the opportunity to prove yourself to be a better man than I currently believe you to be.  I suggest that you take it.

Your big, fat, pissed off patient


  1. did you actually send that email/letter to him? good for you if you did and either way, good for you :)

    I'm glad they will likely still take you. are you going to stay with this clinic then?

  2. @Allyssa

    Well, no. But I did mention the various points brought up in this letter (the power position, he made me cry, I expect an apology) to his nurse and I'm relying on her to convey that stuff to him. If I were to attempt to do that, I would basically spend 3 hours ranting in circles while crying hysterically. I'm hoping she can convey the information a little more effectively than that.


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