Avoidance

I finally opened the new patient email my new doctor’s office sent me at the end of May. I knew I needed to fill out a medical history form before Friday’s appointment, and I thought I was being extra on top of it by opening said email on Wednesday night instead of Thursday night or Friday morning. A medical history form is something I might fill out in the car on the way to the appointment while John drives.

What I didn’t realize was:

a.  I needed to ask my three previous doctors (all of whom ran some sort of fertility blood work and performed pap smears on me) to fax my medical records to the new doctor prior to my appointment.

b.  My consultation will likely take 1.5 to 2 hours and include a detailed review of my medical history, a physical exam and two pelvic ultrasounds.

c.  Even though I have insurance, I should have asked what my out-of-pocket expenses would be for this appointment. I happen to have one of those crazy plans that doesn’t pay a dime until I meet the $2,000 deductible, which, from the sounds of it, might happen at this appointment.

So, I’m kind of freaking out, and I’m seriously considering rescheduling. But first I’m going to call my previous doctors in the morning and see if they can track down my medical records. I have copies of some of my blood work results, but not everything.

Then I’m going to try to prepare myself mentally. I’ve been avoiding even thinking about this appointment. I used to not understand why someone wouldn’t want to go to the doctor, especially if the doctor may have solutions to her problems. But now I get it. It’s much more complicated than I imaged.

I have a friend who doesn’t have children, and she and her husband don’t fully know why. It took me awhile to understand that she really doesn’t want to find out exactly what is going on, at least not right now. She would like nothing more than to be a mother (and she has been to doctors and tried various things). But on the flip side, really having answers might mean finding out she will never have children, and she just doesn’t want that information at this time. She’s told me if they found out for sure that children weren’t possible she and her husband would probably have to take a month off work to grieve and plan and refocus their lives. At this moment, for her, it’s better not to know.

I completely understand. I feel torn between wanting answers and wanting to avoid the whole thing altogether in hopes that it will just go away.

UPDATE: My nails are painted. My legs are shaved. I'm off to see the wizard of fertility today.