As we walked into the doctor's consulting office and sat down in the big oversized leather chairs, the doctor apologized for being late. After he sat in his own chair, he looked up at us and asked, "So, you guys are here for an infertility problem?"
Slightly annoyed that he hadn't had a chance to review my file before we came in, and I replied, "No, we don't have a problem getting pregnant. I miscarried internally at 18 weeks, and when the surgeons sewed my uterus back together, they said that I had a bicornuate uterus. We would like a clear diagnosis, answers to what exactly happened, and where we can go from here."
After that, the doctor immediately remembered talking to me on the phone. He then quickly read through my entire post-operative report. When he was finished, he went on to explain his theory to us. As he crudely sketched a unicornuate uterus on the back of my chart, he explained that I would need to have a hysterosalpingography done.
Scott and I stared at the doctor with our mouths open, wondering how many times he would have practiced saying that word to get it just right.
He went on to explain that it was just a large word for a scan of my uterus. That would be the only way to tell what my uterus really looks like, why the baby miscarried through the strongest part of my uterus (rather than my cervix), and what our options would be to get pregnant again.
After he answered all of our questions, we left and paid our bill (curses to out-of-network providers and our insurance's ability to only cover 50%). We were a little relieved that he had an educated opinion.
Honestly, in a perfect world, this is how I wanted it to go: He could have went over his opinion with us, just like he had, but then after that, he would have pulled out a collapsible OBGYN chair from behind his large bookshelf, sat me in it, put my feet in the stirrups, spread my legs open, and right next to the framed picture of his three kids, stuck a long probe in my cervix. He would have pulled out a monitor from behind his coat rack, which would have shown us the feed from the inserted scope. After reading the monitor, he would have been saying things like "Alas!" and "Aha!" and telling us EXACTLY was going on inside my pelvic region. He could even have pulled out a tobacco pipe and started smoking it, and I would have let him. Because he had ANSWERS.
Instead of my fantasy, on Monday, we meet with a different specialist. Our insurance covers more of this provider's fees, so we are hoping to get another educated opinion, and to get tests scheduled as soon as possible.
In our situation, not knowing IS the ENTIRE battle.
1 comment:
Hi Mandy,
First let me say though I do not know you, I know your pain. Your baby girl was born 25 and half hours after mine who was also born sleeping at 22 weeks 1 day 8/4/09 3:28 am. I cam across your blog while "googling" for a reason why. I was told I had a placental abruption but today told I have a bicornuate uterus.My story is so similar to yours, the pains they said were cramps right up until I was screaming at the nurse I had to push.I too thought how was i going to go through labor if I couldn't handle the cramps,turns out I WAS in labor.I found starting a blog helpful but I still have many down days. I honestly don't know why I am writing other than it just struck me how similarly we felt and how your loss was just hours after my own. I hope you are healing not just physically but in your heart as well though I don't imagine we will ever be the same.Please reach out to me if you ever need to chat with someone who knows. I see my specialist in a few weeks,still waiting for answers. Good luck to you
www.babyruthlobo.blogspot.com
Post a Comment