My doctor is not a unicorn, and this is not a fairy tale. If it were, I would be the fair lady banished to the Barren Wasteland and my doctor would be, not the magical unicorn on which she rides safely to the Fertile Valley, but the scheming goblin who promises to remove the curse in exchange for all her gold and future riches and demands a series of impossible tasks. But after she meets all his conditions and masters his challenges through her outstanding determination strength and will, after she has given everything she has, he twists and grins and finds a loophole to slither through. "Sorry, sweetheart, but you danced by the light of the full moon, not the new moon, so our contract is null and void. But if you want to try again I have another quest in mind.....bwahahahahah"
OK, so I have an overactive imagination. My fertility doctor is not a goblin or an evil troll, a snake-oil-salesman or a quack. He is a highly educated medical professional, respected in his field and partner at the leading fertility clinic in our region. He's a smarmy little automaton and I hate his fucking guts.
I hate the way he acts like he's a doctor on TV. Everything is so slick and rehearsed, down to the well-timed hand on your shoulder. I hate his smug little grin and shiny immobile hair and his scripted responses to every question you ask.
He doesn't like me, either. He bristles defensively whenever I ask about other treatments and protocols that I've read about online. He hates that I do my own research, question his methods and suggest alternatives.
After my first miscarriage I asked, several times, about Heparin and Lovenox. He was pompous and dismissive: "nonono, you don't need that, you don't have clotting factors and it's extremely risky and the evidence supporting it is weak at best."
Another year, another miscarriage, and Dr Smuglestiltskin twists and grins and says Sorry, sweetheart, but you failed to keep the baby alive so our contract is null and void. But if you want to try again I have another plan in mind..."Listen, we can treat you with something called Heparin. It's been shown to be helpful, even for women who don't have clotting factors, and the evidence looks good and we're having a lot of luck with it."
So. It's a risky and unproven treatment unless he suggests it, then it's OMG AWESOME.
This is why I hate my doctor.
So, what am I going to do about it? I've never in my life stayed in a relationship with anyone who made me feel so helpless, hopeless, weak and wrong. When every conversation leaves me sobbing tears of frustration and self-loathing, I know it's over. When I dread seeing someone as much I dread seeing Dr S at the follow-up-to-the-miscarriage appointment that I keep putting off scheduling, I know it's time to walk away.
But I can't break up with my doctor, can I?
There are three doctors at the clinic. Dr C is a doddering old fool who grievously botched one of my embryo transfers and is not allowed anywhere near my vagina. I've been with Dr S for over four years and he knows my whole story and I hate him. But Dr G seems nice. I'd like to at least talk with him, see what he thinks about my case and where he stands on the whole Heparin/Lovenox/Pushy Patient thing. Y'know, a little first date of sorts, to see if there's a spark, if we hit it off.
But I don't want to be that crazy bitch who's burned through the entire office.
But maybe I am crazy.
Maybe I'm just hoping for a Doctor Unicorn to ride in on a rainbow and prescribe a magical potion to grant me my baby-ever-after.
Maybe it's not him, it's me.
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