To the sonographers, doctors, nurses, and desk clerk. You know, after 12 months of this I am not any happier to see you than you are to see me. It was all smiles and congratulations when I became pregnant easily before miscarrying, but the real test of how you function as a fertility clinic is how you treat me now that I am a scarred veteran. You have to remember a few things about the physical and psychic space I visit, which is your workplace but a place of trauma for me. Over the last year I've endured the longest sonogram--the one where the technician won't say a word as I grow more anxious until she finally shows me the sonogram screen and says "this is where the heartbeat should be." I say, "but I don't see anything." She says, well yes. Then she scurries me off to the nurse whilst I'm crying and in shock. Then, a few months later when I'm trying again she won't say a word while I ask questions, knowing something might be wrong again at a baseline sonogram. I have to wait to find out that a cyst is covering my entire ovary. Why would the practice have people doing sonograms who only have a particular niche and cannot convey medical information to the patient who is experiencing the procedure? Is there a better way to do it? Perhaps some of the time have one of the nurses or even the RE actually participate in the sonogram to interpret? As a patient, when I encounter medical workers who can't interpret data, make decisions, answer my questions, even if it is part of the division of labor, I experience this as ineptitude. I recognize it is systemic, but if you have a team approach with the RE making decisions, I have to feel like from the time I enter your office your entire team knows what is going to happen and can provide answers.
Today, this was not the case. When I entered, the desk clerk accidentally gave me the red folder that pregnant ladies get. I had to tell her this was wrong. It's a small detail, but it makes a huge difference for me as a patient. Since your office treats infertiles and pregnancies in the same space, every time I go to your office it is like attending a funeral of someone I love while everyone around me is attending the wedding of someone I don't know.
Then, when I spoke with Dr. J, I tried very hard to be upbeat, even though I had been devastated by the failure and trauma of this last cycle. I did my research and wrote my questions to prepare for the meeting. I had driven two and a half hours. I thought the meeting with Dr. J went well. I made sure to compliment the Indiana staff and T's excellent support and expert information. Then, when Dr. J left the room to begin the second phase--the planning phase of my IVF protocol I had driven two hours for, I overheard him say who wants to speak to Viv. No planning. No one who had all the i's dotted and t's crossed. Just a nurse who said "you need some birth control pills."
"Yes. I also need the protocol sheet and drugs ordered."
"Just call us on day 3."
" No. Because I have to start lupron two days after stopping BCP's."
Then apparently flumoxed by the microdose flare protocol and scheduling, she fled the room and sent someone else in who cleared it up.
This kind of behavior, whether a systemic breakdown of communication between doctor and nurse, or the error of an individual who should have been prepared for her meeting with me has one effect. I lose faith in the team as a whole, because what is communicated to me is that I don't matter as a patient. I know that I ask many questions, that I often look hurt or angry when going through procedures, that I should have had a baby earlier like normal people, and that I am frustrated when someone contacts me from the office without having thought out the next step. I know you can't act like whether or not IVF succeeds for my husband and me even matters to you, but I do expect that you act like you know that it means absolutely the world to me.
For this last cycle, I promise to prepare for success by doing yoga, accupuncture, and nutritional counseling, so that I am not so distressed when I enter your workplace for the umpteenth blood draw, sonogram, or meeting. I will set counseling appointments for days when I have the potential of receiving bad news. I would ask that the team of those of you working with me get together and think about how you can up your game to help a veteran have a more positive experience.
