So, Doctor Gold Jewellery found nothing wrong with me apart from a vitamin B depletion, and subscribed me vitamin B injections and aspirin.
Let's start with the aspirin. I don't like taking medication, and I certainly don't want to be taking any for no good reason. I am the kind of person who doesn't take pain killers and by choice gave birth without any pain relief. So, the advice to take 100mg of aspirin daily required some research.
A quick google session (mainly looking for the opinion of for example IVF clinics and medical authorities) told me that taking a low dose of aspirin has not in fact been proven to reduce the risk of miscarriage compared to regular care. It may or may not have some effect because of increased blood flow to the uterus.
The doctor told me the embryo implants deeper into the uterine wall if you take aspirin and you are therefore less likely to miscarry. But actually conceiving was never our problem and there is as far as I can see no reason to think my embryos were too shallowly implanted. I suspect he's providing me with aspirin hoping for a placebo effect.
I eventually decided to take the stupid aspirin after all in a "it can't hurt but it may help" frame of mind, but I remain utterly skeptical.
Moving on to the vitamin B injections. I asked him why I had this deficiency, and what I should eat or do to avoid it. He seemed utterly uninterested in the question and didn't in fact have an answer for me. Then he looked in the test results again and said that my "live vitamin B is fine, but the stores are depleted". I am not entirely sure what that means, but I have in all honesty given up asking questions from this man. Instead I asked how I administer the injection once I have it, and he told me the pharmacy will sort that out.
I went to the pharmacy and they gave me the box but informed me that they can't administer it or sell me a syringe. My doctor has to do that.
Are you starting to see why I have very little confidence in this bejewelled little man? I went to my GP and she gave me the injection whilst muttering something about it all being very strange.
Wednesday, 29 July 2015
The Abortion Factory
For my first D&C I went to the hospital emergency room. It was a full on hospital and surgery experience, with drip in my arm and waking up in recovery and nurses and all sorts of care.
For the second one I went to a gynecology clinic I have later renamed "The Abortion Factory". The experience was much more of a routine in-and-out affair. Not much fuss was made, I never saw the doctor that carried out the procedure and Dwayne drove me home minutes after I'd woken up.
That's all well and good I suppose. What bothered me was sitting in the waiting area beforehand, and studying the handful of other women waiting to be seen. They were all young, late teens or early 20's maybe, and all waiting either with a tattooed boyfriend of a chain smoking mother. And I got the distinct feeling that they were all there by choice, they were all removing healthy pregnancies because they'd fallen pregnant by mistake.
I am not judging, I am entirely pro choice and I could very easily have been one of those girls at many points in my life (although my mother didn't smoke). But still. It did feel terribly unfair to sit there with a very much wanted but unfortunately "non-viable" pregnancy, watching other people willingly getting rid of perfectly good ones.
For the second one I went to a gynecology clinic I have later renamed "The Abortion Factory". The experience was much more of a routine in-and-out affair. Not much fuss was made, I never saw the doctor that carried out the procedure and Dwayne drove me home minutes after I'd woken up.
That's all well and good I suppose. What bothered me was sitting in the waiting area beforehand, and studying the handful of other women waiting to be seen. They were all young, late teens or early 20's maybe, and all waiting either with a tattooed boyfriend of a chain smoking mother. And I got the distinct feeling that they were all there by choice, they were all removing healthy pregnancies because they'd fallen pregnant by mistake.
I am not judging, I am entirely pro choice and I could very easily have been one of those girls at many points in my life (although my mother didn't smoke). But still. It did feel terribly unfair to sit there with a very much wanted but unfortunately "non-viable" pregnancy, watching other people willingly getting rid of perfectly good ones.
What it feels like
Here's a glimpse of what recurring miscarriages might feel like:
The first one was somehow a complete surprise and at the same time almost expected. If you look back in this blog, I had been thinking about the possibility and preparing myself for it. But at the same time I had had a 12 week scan before with my first pregnancy and it had been fine and great and fun. I had no reason to expect the shocking image of a way too small foetus and the absolute stillness of an ultrasound image without a flickering heart.
That first one was grief, but mostly disappointment really. It felt like an unnecessary waste of time. But since I know how common it is and I have a baby already, I didn't let it get me down too much. These things happen, onwards and upwards!
The second one was so undramatic that it might as well never have happened. I did a pregnancy test on the last day my parents were visiting. I thought it might be too early, but I did it anyway just because it would be so great to be able to announce to them before they left. And to all our joy it was positive! Only to go away a week later. So really, if I hadn't done that test I might never have known that I was pregnant.
The third one was the worst one. Because I had those two miscarriages already, and they were quite different from each other, I assumed it was just statistics. 25% of all pregnancies and all that. Of course I did worry a little bit, but really I thought everything would be fine this time. I even bought some baby stuff at a baby expo after I had seen that little heart beat so strongly at the six week scan.
That feeling when I saw the stillness of the scan at eight weeks was horrible. I have seen enough ultrasound scans by now that I saw straight away that it was over. The technician kept telling me she was looking for a heart beat, and I just wanted to tell her to stop. We both knew there wasn't one. And then the silly woman started saying one of the many idiotic things you could say to a person who's sitting on a clinic bed crying with a dead foetus in her belly. She said: "Oh, but look, you have such a gorgeous daughter already! And I only have one child myself and I'm really happy!"
There are two comments I dislike very much, and you hear them a lot once people know you've miscarried. I know they are all well meant and supposed to comfort you, but never say to a woman who's just lost a pregnancy "It's really common, it happens all the time..." or "Be grateful for the healthy child you already have!". There is really nothing you can say that makes a woman in this situation feel any better, but there are things that make her feel worse. Adding guilt to the pain is just unfair. Not only am I carrying a dead baby and have to deal with getting rid of it and all that misery, I also have to feel guilty for not being grateful enough for what I already have and stupid for feeling alone in this suffering.
Jesus woman, just shut your mouth and hand me a tissue.
I had to wait about a week for an appointment for a D&C. That time was the worst, I was so upset and cried and cried and cried. I really did start falling apart at the seams. I struggled being nice and polite to anyone, least of all my family. Somehow this felt like an actual lost baby, not just a lost pregnancy. Maybe because this time I had seen the heartbeat with my own eyes and for a short while it had been real.
Now, two months after that last miscarriage was dealt with, I feel quietly hopeful that next time will be fine. But I have this bizarre and illogical reaction whenever other people announce that they are pregnant - I take it as a personal insult. It's an odd feeling, I am happy for them but somewhere deep inside I'm shouting "Stop flaunting it you evil bitch! I was supposed to be pregnant too!"
Ah well. Next time will be my time.
The first one was somehow a complete surprise and at the same time almost expected. If you look back in this blog, I had been thinking about the possibility and preparing myself for it. But at the same time I had had a 12 week scan before with my first pregnancy and it had been fine and great and fun. I had no reason to expect the shocking image of a way too small foetus and the absolute stillness of an ultrasound image without a flickering heart.
That first one was grief, but mostly disappointment really. It felt like an unnecessary waste of time. But since I know how common it is and I have a baby already, I didn't let it get me down too much. These things happen, onwards and upwards!
The second one was so undramatic that it might as well never have happened. I did a pregnancy test on the last day my parents were visiting. I thought it might be too early, but I did it anyway just because it would be so great to be able to announce to them before they left. And to all our joy it was positive! Only to go away a week later. So really, if I hadn't done that test I might never have known that I was pregnant.
The third one was the worst one. Because I had those two miscarriages already, and they were quite different from each other, I assumed it was just statistics. 25% of all pregnancies and all that. Of course I did worry a little bit, but really I thought everything would be fine this time. I even bought some baby stuff at a baby expo after I had seen that little heart beat so strongly at the six week scan.
That feeling when I saw the stillness of the scan at eight weeks was horrible. I have seen enough ultrasound scans by now that I saw straight away that it was over. The technician kept telling me she was looking for a heart beat, and I just wanted to tell her to stop. We both knew there wasn't one. And then the silly woman started saying one of the many idiotic things you could say to a person who's sitting on a clinic bed crying with a dead foetus in her belly. She said: "Oh, but look, you have such a gorgeous daughter already! And I only have one child myself and I'm really happy!"
There are two comments I dislike very much, and you hear them a lot once people know you've miscarried. I know they are all well meant and supposed to comfort you, but never say to a woman who's just lost a pregnancy "It's really common, it happens all the time..." or "Be grateful for the healthy child you already have!". There is really nothing you can say that makes a woman in this situation feel any better, but there are things that make her feel worse. Adding guilt to the pain is just unfair. Not only am I carrying a dead baby and have to deal with getting rid of it and all that misery, I also have to feel guilty for not being grateful enough for what I already have and stupid for feeling alone in this suffering.
Jesus woman, just shut your mouth and hand me a tissue.
I had to wait about a week for an appointment for a D&C. That time was the worst, I was so upset and cried and cried and cried. I really did start falling apart at the seams. I struggled being nice and polite to anyone, least of all my family. Somehow this felt like an actual lost baby, not just a lost pregnancy. Maybe because this time I had seen the heartbeat with my own eyes and for a short while it had been real.
Now, two months after that last miscarriage was dealt with, I feel quietly hopeful that next time will be fine. But I have this bizarre and illogical reaction whenever other people announce that they are pregnant - I take it as a personal insult. It's an odd feeling, I am happy for them but somewhere deep inside I'm shouting "Stop flaunting it you evil bitch! I was supposed to be pregnant too!"
Ah well. Next time will be my time.
The "specialist"
I have issues with doctors. I generally find them dismissive and uninterested in me or in their own role as doctors. My current GP is ok, I can work with her without wanting to poke her eyes out.
That "specialist" obstetrician I was sent to though... Him I find more challenging.
First of all his clinic staff are hopelessly useless. For my first visit I was called and offered to come in early, because apparently the doctor had some spots in his schedule become available. Fantastic, I hopped in the car and drove there as quickly as I could. Only to be left in the waiting room for TWO HOURS before I was seen, and that was an hour and 15 minutes past my original appointment. There was no explanation or apology from the receptionist that had called me earlier, only a shrug and the statement "This is obstetrics", whatever that's supposed to mean. Infuriating.
For my second visit I was seen straight away by a nurse. I explained that I was expecting to see the doctor and I wasn't sure why I was seeing the nurse. She looked confused, looked in my file, took my blood pressure, and asked me to wait in the waiting area again. They kept me waiting there for an hour and 40 minutes after that. People that came in for appointments after me were seen one after the other, but not me. I asked the receptionist how this could be, and she said the now familiar "This is obstetrics, there are emergencies sometimes". No apology or explanation beyond that, and I had certainly not witnessed anything looking remotely like an emergency in the last hour. I am not the argumentative type, but by the time an hour had passed I was getting somewhat annoyed, and I went up again to point out that everyone that had entered the clinic since I had arrived had been seen, but not me, and demanded to know why. The second receptionist looked concerned when she heard what time my appointment was meant to have been, and started saying something to the first receptionist who then quickly shushed her. This made it quite clear that receptionist no 1 had screwed up but wasn't about to admit it. I could do nothing but stomp back and forth across the waiting room floor, fuming, until the doctor was finally ready to see me.
I mentioned the complete waiting time failure in his clinic to him, and guess what he said? "This is obstetrics..."
The doctor is a corpulent middle eastern man with gold chains around his neck and a fat gold watch on his wrist. (Please, at least make an effort not to look like you're in it for the money). He said that because I have had a healthy pregnancy and baby he didn't think it was necessary to do an ultrasound, everything should be ok. He wanted blood tests for a long list of things, most of which I understood what they were and some that I didn't. True to my habit I asked a lot of questions, both because this is about MY body, and because I am curious and like to learn more about stuff. The doctor didn't seem very keen on answering my questions though. For example I asked what one of the blood tests was for, and the conversation went something like:
Me: What's this one for?
Him: Oh, that's just hormones.
Me: Yes, but what does the result of this tell you, exactly?
Him: It just tells me the hormone level.
Me: Mhm, but when you see the level, what does that tell you about my problem?
Him: Don't worry about it, it's just hormones.
I am not sure whether he assumed I wouldn't understand because I don't have a degree in medicine (but for all he knows I could have a combined degree in medicine and astrophysics!), or he actually doesn't know the answer to my question.
I will have to assume he did what he was supposed to do. What do I know, I'm not the expert after all.
That "specialist" obstetrician I was sent to though... Him I find more challenging.
First of all his clinic staff are hopelessly useless. For my first visit I was called and offered to come in early, because apparently the doctor had some spots in his schedule become available. Fantastic, I hopped in the car and drove there as quickly as I could. Only to be left in the waiting room for TWO HOURS before I was seen, and that was an hour and 15 minutes past my original appointment. There was no explanation or apology from the receptionist that had called me earlier, only a shrug and the statement "This is obstetrics", whatever that's supposed to mean. Infuriating.
For my second visit I was seen straight away by a nurse. I explained that I was expecting to see the doctor and I wasn't sure why I was seeing the nurse. She looked confused, looked in my file, took my blood pressure, and asked me to wait in the waiting area again. They kept me waiting there for an hour and 40 minutes after that. People that came in for appointments after me were seen one after the other, but not me. I asked the receptionist how this could be, and she said the now familiar "This is obstetrics, there are emergencies sometimes". No apology or explanation beyond that, and I had certainly not witnessed anything looking remotely like an emergency in the last hour. I am not the argumentative type, but by the time an hour had passed I was getting somewhat annoyed, and I went up again to point out that everyone that had entered the clinic since I had arrived had been seen, but not me, and demanded to know why. The second receptionist looked concerned when she heard what time my appointment was meant to have been, and started saying something to the first receptionist who then quickly shushed her. This made it quite clear that receptionist no 1 had screwed up but wasn't about to admit it. I could do nothing but stomp back and forth across the waiting room floor, fuming, until the doctor was finally ready to see me.
I mentioned the complete waiting time failure in his clinic to him, and guess what he said? "This is obstetrics..."
The doctor is a corpulent middle eastern man with gold chains around his neck and a fat gold watch on his wrist. (Please, at least make an effort not to look like you're in it for the money). He said that because I have had a healthy pregnancy and baby he didn't think it was necessary to do an ultrasound, everything should be ok. He wanted blood tests for a long list of things, most of which I understood what they were and some that I didn't. True to my habit I asked a lot of questions, both because this is about MY body, and because I am curious and like to learn more about stuff. The doctor didn't seem very keen on answering my questions though. For example I asked what one of the blood tests was for, and the conversation went something like:
Me: What's this one for?
Him: Oh, that's just hormones.
Me: Yes, but what does the result of this tell you, exactly?
Him: It just tells me the hormone level.
Me: Mhm, but when you see the level, what does that tell you about my problem?
Him: Don't worry about it, it's just hormones.
I am not sure whether he assumed I wouldn't understand because I don't have a degree in medicine (but for all he knows I could have a combined degree in medicine and astrophysics!), or he actually doesn't know the answer to my question.
I will have to assume he did what he was supposed to do. What do I know, I'm not the expert after all.
... and the end, and the end...
Enough ends now!
Let me start again by summing up the last nine months. I lost that first Minibug, to my great surprise. I then fell pregnant again and lost that one quite early and undramatically. When I fell pregnant a third time back in April I had no reason to believe it wouldn't go well. I'd had my run of bad luck, third time is a charm and all that. A scan at 6 weeks showed a healthily beating little heart, but another scan at 8 weeks showed no signs of life at all and on the 2nd June I had another D&C to remove the dead foetus.
That's the short version.
A visit to a specialist obstetrician only confirmed that there's nothing wrong with me, which is neither good nor bad. If there HAD been something wrong perhaps he could have fixed it. But as it stands, we'll just have to try again in exactly the same situation as the last three times.
That doesn't make me feel confident at all.
Let me start again by summing up the last nine months. I lost that first Minibug, to my great surprise. I then fell pregnant again and lost that one quite early and undramatically. When I fell pregnant a third time back in April I had no reason to believe it wouldn't go well. I'd had my run of bad luck, third time is a charm and all that. A scan at 6 weeks showed a healthily beating little heart, but another scan at 8 weeks showed no signs of life at all and on the 2nd June I had another D&C to remove the dead foetus.
That's the short version.
A visit to a specialist obstetrician only confirmed that there's nothing wrong with me, which is neither good nor bad. If there HAD been something wrong perhaps he could have fixed it. But as it stands, we'll just have to try again in exactly the same situation as the last three times.
That doesn't make me feel confident at all.
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