According to Your Chart, You’re the Worst

I didn't have any good photos of bungee-jumping fetuses, so here's my dimly-lit 21-week bump pic instead. Now I am every other pregnancy blog in the world. Look upon my bump, ye mighty, and despair!

I didn’t have any good photos of bungee-jumping fetuses, so here’s my dimly-lit 21-week bump pic instead. Now I am every other pregnancy blog in the world. Look upon my bump, ye mighty, and despair!

After breaking up with Dr. Eyeshadow, I got myself in to see a new team of highly recommended Ob/gyns. I had sooooo many reservations about letting go of the doctors at my previous practice. Okay, I had two reservations: 1) I hate confrontation, and 2) It seemed like it was going to be a tremendous, administrative pain in the ass. But I successfully did it. After acquiring my chart from Dr. Eyeshadow’s office, I can confirm that she did not listen to a damned word that came out of my mouth. Towards the end of my chart she was also using a lot of exclamation points to emphasize sentences I never said, characterizing me as a bit of an unmanageable bitch. (“Patient EXTREMELY insistent she doesn’t want to come in for appt. tomorrow!!!” No, I asked if I should still come in tomorrow, and you said not to unless there was a problem. I said something along the lines of, “Okay, that sounds good.” I hate you.)

I hand the chart over to my new doctor, who sits down with me as she’s reviewing my paperwork and says, “So, according to this you’re having an elective C-section?” No, that’s just Dr. Eyeshadow not using her listening ears. “Okay,” says the new doctor, “I’m glad to hear you’re not going that route, because it’s a major surgery with a long recovery time, and it’s especially difficult for patients with chronic pain like yours. It isn’t that it’s a wrong decision if it’s something that has to be done, but we would want to consider it carefully first.” So Dr. Eyeshadow was totally planning on slicing me up and ripping a baby out of me without having this conversation. And she wrote at the top of my chart in giant letters that the whole thing was my idea. So, it seems that switching practices was a good move.

I really like the new doctor. She, like my uro-gynocologist, is of the opinion that it’s safer for me to take a Category B drug that helps with bladder spasms than it is for me to not get any treatment and get into car accidents. (By the way, I only needed to take Pyridium for three days before the spasms basically stopped and I was able to live and sleep like a human again.) She also recommended a screening that the previous doctors ought to have talked to me about, had they looked at my chart. Also, I came down with a stupid damn chest cold the other day, and she recommended Robitussin DM, Benadryl, or cough drops, instead of soup. Dr. Acula expressly forbade cough drops (let alone any of this baby-killing Robitussin craziness) the last time I felt contagion coming on. “No, is medicine. Have some soup.”

Another nice thing about the new doctor: She delivers at Sibley Hospital in way Northwest DC, where all the rich people have their babies. I had a doctor’s appointment there once. That place is a magical fucking fairy land. And there’s an Au Bon Pain in the lobby. You can get a cobb salad in between vaccinations. Plus, it’s a 30-minute drive from our house and a 19-minute cab ride from work, unlike Inova Fairfax where Doctors Acula and Eyeshadow deliver (allllllll the way on the other side of the Beltway in Annandale, Virginia). Although Inova Fairfax is very well regarded, and I hear it has the third largest maternity ward in the country (and therefore, if anything goes awry, there are a thousand doctors in the hallway who have seen your crazy thing 100 times and can hop on into your delivery room and fix it), I had growing concerns that I would go into labor during rush hour and end up delivering the baby in the emergency lane of I-495 after sitting in traffic for several hours.

I haven’t come up with a name for the new doctor yet, apart from her legal name, which I feel I should withhold in case I accidentally misquote any of her medical advice (example: “My doctor said bungee jumping will make the fetus strong!” when she actually said something something banjo music) and y’all follow it (“I want a strong fetus! Let’s go bungee jumping!”) and then it goes poorly (you and your fetus explode immediately after jumping off the cliff because of altitude or science or something) and she gets sued (by your widower, because my doctor inadvertently exploded you and your fetus). By the way, please don’t take any of my hearsay from this blog to heart. Check with your doctor first before you take Benadryl or go bungee jumping or make soup. Or at least promise not to sue me. I’m just telling you what (I think) I heard.



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