Friday, May 1, 2009

Baby steps

The irony of this does not escape me in the least.

My BFF who is unsure of "the whole shebang" is getting ready to swallow a hand full of Clomid pills prescribed to her by her ob/gyn. An ob/gyn who is already self proclaimed to not be "a fertility specialist with more expertise treating infertility". I am telling BFF to run. Run away from this dr who may or may not be able to help. But will almost surely screw up her reproductive system. Run to a RE.

Where as I, on the other hand, know an oby/gyn will never be able to help me. A queen of the stirrups already with a RE on speed dial. I am being told to go back to my ob/gyn for a pap smear as a prerequisite to IVF. {Hangs head and sighs.} I don't have an ob/gyn. I have been seeing you, hallowed RE, for the last 8 months and the 11 months before that trying to get pregnant. You don't suppose one of those dozens of times that I was in the stirrups or one of the dozens of times I will soon be in the stirrups again, you could help me out and do this simple swab yourself? Would that be asking too much? Hum, cupcake?

Nevertheless, I have scheduled blood work for myself and hubby. Another semen analysis for him (his prior one is not "within the past 6 months"). And of course the treasured pap smear with an ob/gyn that I pulled out of the phone book and chose because they could fit me in when I wanted to be seen. I confess, I giggled when the lady on the phone asked me all gentle like if I would prefer a male or female doctor. I wanted to say "Lady, I am infertile. I am under the care of a RE. I am shocked that there are any doctors that haven't seen that part of my body. I am a Stirrup Queen!"

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