Hmmph.
Thursday, May 4:
What a day.
It wouldn't have been such a day if I hadn't had to spend three hours at the genetic counselor's office, the appointment I didn't want to go to in the first place.
The first two hours? Spent just waiting to be seen. I should have known it was going to be really bad when one of the front desk women asked if my husband and I would like to go for a walk or get something to eat. I think I now understand the look I've seen on so many pregnant women's faces when they're in these doctor office waiting rooms. Two hours of sitting around in uncomfortable chairs ... while the husband keeps standing up and sitting down ... when it feels like it's 80 degrees in the office and there's no water left in the cooler to drink ... when nurses leave for the day and joke they hope you're not still waiting when they return in the morning ... when you already feel going to the appointment is a Big Waste of Time.
Then we had the ultrasound -- we saw the baby yawn, and lie with legs over head as if doing yoga -- and waited some more, to see the physician's assistant.
The lips are fine.
But they still want me to come back at 30 weeks.
AAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!
Look, people. I've passed every damn test. The ultrasounds are beautiful. I've been patient in your waiting rooms. The baby's heartbeat is great. The baby's weight -- now 1 pound, 5 ounces -- is right on target. My blood and urine are fine. (Sorry if that's too much information.) Get over my age already.
I plan to talk with the new Ob/Gyn at my doctor's office when I have my monthly appointment in a few weeks and ask if all this foolishness is necessary. And what about that weird phone call by the pushy office woman?
My husband, for his part, behaved himself and didn't get angry. (Although once we were outside the building, we both faked a scream at the same time.) I rewarded him by cooking a nice dinner when we got home.
What a day.
It wouldn't have been such a day if I hadn't had to spend three hours at the genetic counselor's office, the appointment I didn't want to go to in the first place.
The first two hours? Spent just waiting to be seen. I should have known it was going to be really bad when one of the front desk women asked if my husband and I would like to go for a walk or get something to eat. I think I now understand the look I've seen on so many pregnant women's faces when they're in these doctor office waiting rooms. Two hours of sitting around in uncomfortable chairs ... while the husband keeps standing up and sitting down ... when it feels like it's 80 degrees in the office and there's no water left in the cooler to drink ... when nurses leave for the day and joke they hope you're not still waiting when they return in the morning ... when you already feel going to the appointment is a Big Waste of Time.
Then we had the ultrasound -- we saw the baby yawn, and lie with legs over head as if doing yoga -- and waited some more, to see the physician's assistant.
The lips are fine.
But they still want me to come back at 30 weeks.
AAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!
Look, people. I've passed every damn test. The ultrasounds are beautiful. I've been patient in your waiting rooms. The baby's heartbeat is great. The baby's weight -- now 1 pound, 5 ounces -- is right on target. My blood and urine are fine. (Sorry if that's too much information.) Get over my age already.
I plan to talk with the new Ob/Gyn at my doctor's office when I have my monthly appointment in a few weeks and ask if all this foolishness is necessary. And what about that weird phone call by the pushy office woman?
My husband, for his part, behaved himself and didn't get angry. (Although once we were outside the building, we both faked a scream at the same time.) I rewarded him by cooking a nice dinner when we got home.
posted by Damselfly at 4:41 PM
1 Comments:
Kind of Cinqo de Annoy-o!!
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