It’s today and already I am feeling sick and shaky.
Have I mentioned that I don’t like doctors?
I am trying to prepare myself for the pain of walking in and being seen by either Dr-Evil-Who-Hates-Women or Busy-Nurse-Who-Doesn’t-Give-A-Crap.
I am actually physically shaking as I write this.
I think I’ve had an unfortunate share of really uncaring professionals deal with me in the past (starting with our family doctor when I was a child, who was the spitting image of Gordon Burns from the Krypton Factor. Not that that is a bad thing, as Gordon Burns seems very nice, but our doctor’s personality left a lot to be desired. And then there was the gynaecologist who I swear was secretly eyeing up my backside every time I got out of the chair – it is very unnerving to have to take your knickers off and spread your legs in front of someone who has just been checking out your arse), so now I am terrified of them all.
Doctors these days do seem generally better, but you never forget the bad ones do you?
Most recently the consultant who came to see me on the ward after my miscarriage last year. For the first two days I had two lovely doctors who explained things beautifully and were very kind. Then in comes Dr Evil on my third morning to tell me really I should have had a D&C because that’s the “gold standard” of miscarriage care.
This while I lay in bed, hooked to an IV, with someone else’s blood pumped into my body, and no baby left in my womb.
Well thanks mister. I’ll bear that in mind for next time.
Anyway, this isn’t really helping me, so I think I’ll go and listen to the lovely Circle and Bloom Fertility Relaxation Audio (it’s free!), and try not to induce a coronary while I wait for 11am to strike.