The Second Doctor

Doctors Three and Four will get a shared post later. My time with them was short. Doctor Five is, for sure, going to get his own post – maybe more than one (he’s a bit of a rock star). Before I tell you how wonderful he is, I have to tell you how horrible Doctor Two was.

At first, he was fine. I was about 27 and had zero knowledge of anything relating to pregnancy, except how it’s supposed to work, because that’s all anyone ever really teaches you. I knew how it was supposed to work and I knew there was something off because it wasn’t working how it was supposed to. That’s why I went to him in the first place.

To be honest, I’ve actually blocked a lot of the memories I have of him. I remember him putting me through a hysterosalpingogram. That was fun. I also remember him putting me through a laparoscopy to determine whether or not I had endometriosis and/or PCOS. More fun.

The least amount of fun I had was getting a monthly shot, every month for six months, to put me through a fake menopause. The laparoscopy did show endometriosis and Doctor Two said that “there are only two ways to get rid of endometriosis: pregnancy and menopause.” He also told us that it was easier on my body to go through a fake menopause than a fake pregnancy so that’s the route we went.

For the record, I wasn’t worried about the shot. It was the menopause that was the least amount of fun. The hot flashes, night sweats, mood swings, and food cravings were out of control.

When we started the menopause, Dr. Two said that at the end of it, we would aggressively tackle the pregnancy part. We would have some drugs and some tests and some more tests and a lot of follow-up. That was the light at the end of the tunnel for me and the thing that kept me pushing through the heat and cravings.

Then, it was over. We went in for our follow-up appointment. He said something about not wanting to put me on anything for three months to let my body settle down. I brought up what he’d said in the beginning and he, conveniently, had no recollection of the conversation and hadn’t written anything down. He told me to track my cycle for the next three months and then come back. I went home disappointment, but with an appointment scheduled for three months away. I could hope for that.

When I showed up three months later, with my tracker in hand, he was surprised I wasn’t pregnant. He was surprised and I was confused. And then, my favorite part, he literally threw his hands in the air and said he didn’t know what else to do for me, “Come back in six weeks,” and walked out of the room.

Around this time, I met a girl I still consider to be a close friend. Randomly at church one day she came up to me and, out of the blue, told me that she’d had some struggles getting pregnant with her first. I was shocked. I didn’t even know this girl. She was brand new to the ward and I’m not really sure I’d ever had a conversation with her before that, ever. At some point, I remember looking at her and asking her, “Are you telling me all of this because someone told you that I’m having problems?”

“Yes. I hope that’s ok. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

I wasn’t uncomfortable, I was shocked; stunned; bewildered. I didn’t know this was a “thing” but she was talking about it like we weren’t the only two in the world having to go through these things. I don’t remember anything I told her after that, but I remember her telling me about her doctor.

Six weeks later, I was sitting in the exam room, dutifully awaiting my doctor. He decided that I wasn’t worth his time and sent in a nurse practitioner to talk to me instead. I don’t know what school or program that woman had graduated from, but I can tell you that she wasn’t required to take any lessons in tact or bedside manner to get her diploma. Do you know what she said to me???

“If you would lose weight, I’m sure you’d get pregnant right away.”

Luckily my husband was there. Luckily, for both her and I, he saw the change that came over me as soon as that poison was out of her mouth. Luckily, for her, he stepped in between us just in time. Lucikly, for me, he said something to her that signaled her exit.

Then he turned around and just held me. I sobbed. How dare she? She didn’t know anything about me. This was the first time she’d ever met me. She didn’t know how hard I’d been trying, what my genetic makeup was, why I was overweight, nothing.

If any doctor or nurse or nurse practitioner ever reads this, please know that, while it may be true, there are few things more emotionally damaging than those words. Please, please, please, never say them to anyone, ever. Doctor Three explained it to me later and I get that there’s a correlation. He explained that because of the way fat cells interact with estrogen that it wouldn’t help my situation, but that it wasn’t an end-all. Please explain – don’t say something so obviously judgmental – especially in you’ve never been overweight.

I cried all the way home. Jon went out to buy me flowers so I made it home before he did. I couldn’t even get out of my car. I’d basically just been told that I wasn’t good enough to get pregnant because I’d allowed myself to become too fat. It was horrible. I just sat there in my car, in my driveway, in the dark, and cried.

Sitting there in my driveway, I remembered that conversation I’d had with that girl, who was now my friend. Since that conversation, I’d found out that there were about three or four other girls in my ward who all saw the same doctor and they all loved him. I pulled out my phone to call her and then remembered that she’d had surgery the day before and I didn’t want to bug her. So, I called another girl I knew to get his information.

I called the very next day and set up an appointment. Unfortunately, Doctor Five was fully booked and couldn’t add new patients, but the other doctor in his office could. A few weeks later, I met with Doctor Three for the first time. But we’ll save that story for another day.

Sometimes life throws curve balls. The best quote I’ve found about them is this:

When life throws you curve balls, swing at those things like Stevie Wonder with a light saber.

I could go on about baseball, Stevie, or Star Wars for a very long time off that little gem. The point is that you just go. You swing. You try. You push your limits and trust in yourself. If something doesn’t feel right, it probably isn’t, but have the courage to stand for it if it is.