Long long ago I started this blog as an outlet for me. Somewhere to write how I was feeling and get things off my chest. Recently I’ve been feeling great! This correlates with the number of recent posts. But today I’m feeling really miserable to I shall return to my little speck of the Internet and have a vent. I’ll feel better for it. You can skip it if you don’t like it!
Yesterday I had my 3 monthly check up. These check ups are anxiety inducing and from the minute you get the letter your mind is focused on the date.
There’s the preparation for it too. My self respect means I put as much grooming into a follow up appointment as a hot date. This in the circumstances adds to the absurdity of it.
So I made the journey to Bath. A gorgeous sunny day where there were plenty of other things I would of rather been doing.
Back to D3. Back to the room where you first waited before you were diagnosed, the same receptionist, whose Christmas earrings I will always remember on that very first visit.
Sitting in the waiting room. The waiting room is shared with the ultrasound department. Lots of happy couples waiting for their baby scans, beaming over tiny pictures of their tiny babies to be. Then there are the women, who you can tell are terrified. I just want to say to them ‘it will be ok, whatever happens it will be ok’ The weeping couple, the frail old lady, the accompanying toddlers, the men who nervously keep refilling their water cups as they have nothing better to do. Familiar faces of consultants you’ve seen before coming out to call patients in. The kind radiographer who held my hand through an MRI. They all go about their day while you sit there and wait. For 40 minutes.
I get called in by Jane. I have had email communication with her in the run up to this appointment as I have been experiencing menopausal symptoms and she assured me that Nick would talk through options at the appointment.
She walks me down the corridor to ‘that room’ the room where I’ve heard such good and bad news and sitting there is a doctor I’ve never seen before.
This really pisses me off. I know both my consultants are there because I’ve seen them. I’m sure this guy is lovely but he doesn’t know me or anything about me. He tells me he’s going to do a vault smear. I tell him to ‘crack on then’ he says he ‘likes my spirit’ and I tell him to ‘fill his boots’
I’m laying on the chair legs akimbo and they can’t find a bottle to put the specimen in. I’m fuming by this point. ‘While you’re fart arsing about I’ll shut my legs’
After a bit of faffing they find a bottle. I ask him if he’s new he says no he’s been there 3 years but doesn’t normally do clinics as he’s a fertility gynaecologist.
‘Good luck with me mate!’
Small talk is never my forte and especially not when someone’s jabbing an arrow headed brush up my fanny.
Get dressed, still fuming, but holding it together just. Am asked if I want to come back for my results, say ‘no, ring me with them’ Then mention a persistent itch that I have on my perineum. Without going bit huge details this symptom could be highly significant, just as it could be totally insignificant. Decides he wants another look, back undressed, back on the chair.
Tells the nurse ‘this bit looks strophic’ Er hello! That’s my fanny you are talking about how about telling me!!!
Writes a prescription for really strong steroid cream. Says they want to look at it again in a month.
Can’t get out of there quick enough.
Not the best experience I’ve ever had and I made them bloody cake.