So my choices right now seem to be to curl into the fetal position and not fall asleep or write a really angry open letters and post them on my blog. I'm going with the latter. This is not for the faint of heart...
Dear Hospital at the Midwestern University I Attend:
You are morons - the whole lot of you. I have yet to have a decent experience under your care. IDIOTS!
Dear ER Intern from the First Miscarriage:
Learn how to give a pelvic exam. Tell you teacher that it *might* not be a bright idea to let you have your first go at the procedure on a woman who you suspect is miscarrying a baby. My miscarriage was not hub-bub. Thanks for the memories.
Dear Everyone Involved with my Experience in the Women's Health Clinic this Morning:
Wow! Just when I think your institution can't suck anymore...You are quite the overachievers, aren't you? If you know a woman is currently experience cramping and bleeding out her child, don't make her wait in an office for two and a half hours. Don't tell me I'm just "average" because I've had two miscarriages. I doesn't help - especially when I'm in the throes of the second one. There is nothing average about my pain. Speaking of which, don't make me fill out an EPDS (Edinburgh Postnatal Depression Scale) in the middle of my second miscarriage in 10 weeks and expect that I'll "pass." Don't give me a lecture about how I really need to "get feeling better emotionally." Sure, I'll get right on that. Don't act surprised when, after you've made me wait 30 minutes after my husband absolutely had to leave, I tell you "I don't want any blood tests today. Just please give me my Rhogram shot." I'm tired of tests. I'm tired of having blood drawn. I'm tired of hearing about all the things that may or may not be wrong with me. And why did you come in here and ask me why the doctor is ordering a celiac test and how to file the paperwork? Hell's if I know. I don't want you to stick me with any more needles. I don't want to stare at another picture of my empty womb on the ultrasound screen. Please, just stop! Besides, I have to get to my counselor; you know, because I have to work on that whole mental health thing.
Dear Ben,
Thank you for being there this morning and telling people that they really needed to take care of me because I've been sitting there for over an hour (even if it took repeating this process twenty minutes later before they actually listened to you). You are my hero. I love you.
Dear Counselor,
You are a rock star. Seriously, I owe you so much. Thank you for letting me come into your office, curl into a ball, and sob. I am so, so glad I have you. And thank you for telling me they were idiots and for telling me that my emotions are just fine, they are as best as can be expected given what I've been through.
Dear Joss Whedon,
Thank you for writing "Once More With Feeling." It's written in my exact emotional key at the moment.
Dear Sully,
Please stop eating poo. You are still my snuggle bug, though. I love you, too.
xo,
Ann
this thankful week
10 months ago
5 comments:
I'm so sorry I had to have stupid meetings with my students today and couldn't come over with Frosties and hugs! :( I am feeling angry on your behalf after reading this. If you ever need company on a trip to a clinic and Ben can't make it, you call me and I'll be there!
Dear Ann,
I heart you (and Ben. And your poop-eating dog).
I wish I lived closer so I could come over and we could rage about the women's health care in this country with you because God knows we could have a fun time. I'll bring the goodies and sappy Romantic comedy. And blankets knitted by my grandma.
Love, Stacy
WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL IS WRONG WITH THOSE PEOPLE AT THE CLINIC?
Oh, honey. I love you. And fergawdsake, just feel what you feel, or don't feel what you don't, and listen to the sane voices around you.
Which *ought* to include the ones at the clinic, but OH WELL WHATEVER.
Crickey, I agree with everyone who posted before. Definitely feel what you feel and ignore the crazy clinic people. It's healthy to grieve and feel sad. I was trying to think of a way to express how I could see how upset you were to Andy and I told him, "She's so upset she made typos. Ann never makes typos. I think those people at the clinic had better watch out."
But in all seriousness, I am glad you have Ben and Sully, and good friends in Iowa for hugs and support. Take care of you!
My elegant two-cents-worth that comes from my $100,000 education: Fuckers.
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