September 29, 2010

Blech. Blech. Blech

Sooooooooo I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow - ladies you know the one (sigh).   It is with a new doctor who a couple of friends have recommended and insisted I go as I have not been in (blah blah) number of years.  I haven't canceled at this point so my guess is I will actually put on big girl panties and keep the appointment.
Blech. Blech. Blech.  Oh So So So Very........ Blech.

I had a lovely OB/GYN doctor - her name was [say with your best french accent] Marie Lemmonier.  I LOVED her.  I chose her because she was next door to where I lived - le convenient.  Dr. Marie was right from France and, bless her heart, I could not understand a damn thing she said.   She was always so happy.  We had a blissful relationship.  It was so beautiful. She would talk all le frenchy french pretty words and I would nod and smile.   She never looked worried or concerned.  I loved her even when after 26 hours of labor she told she was going to eat dinner and I had been sucking on ice chips for the better part of a day.   I still loved her even when she came back from her lovely french dinner and I ended up with a c-section. I kept loving her when I shivered from head to toe for hours after the delivery.  She did excellent work - love in every stitch - nurses, doctors, interns, the janitors all came in to admire her work.  People gushed I was such a lucky lucky girl to have her!!  J-Toad was born at 10PM and I was up and about at 7AM with not so much as a tylenol.  
I Heart Her Still.

Then hubby and I moved while I was pregnant with Z-Toad.  Not technically that far but still more than 2 hours.   Everyone said I needed a local doctor.  I was aghast and did not want to change from my french filly midstream.  But somewhere in between working, taking care of J-Toad, and trying to get to the appointments without stopping to pee,  I caved and decided to find a local doctor.


I took advice from my friends - whom I have since divored - and booked an appt. with Dr. Tom Selleck.   Okay - no not really but if you cloned Tom and gave him a medical degree - viola, meet my new doctor.    On a appointment to see the baby via ultrasound I took my mom and frankly I don't think she ever looked at the monitor - she melted herself into a puddle when he walked in.   Well Dr. Selleck also KNEW he was hotstuff.  The nurses at the hospital would ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh and ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh at his very presence and Selleckness.    I cursed my friends,  Dr. Psycho Selleck was not nice unless he had an audience.   I had to fight with him to schedule a c-section cause HE decided I should try and go normal (it is the patients decision in MA if the first one was a c-section).   Then another fight as to the date to schedule the C.   He wanted to deliver on my FIL's birthday and there was NO friggin way that was gonna happen if I had to crazy glue my legs shut.   Then I told him I wanted to be stitched closed not stapled.  To which Dr. Selleck Douche Bag asked "Why - Are you gonna tell me you wear a bikini"?   HOLY MOTHER OF GOD.   Really?  You met me at 7.5 months pregnant?!?!?  
What. an. ass.    THE mother of the mother of all asses.

By the time I was ready to deliver Z-Toad I was completely done with this man. During Z-Toad's delivery he LOST something (a sponge I think) and they had to reopen part of me and dig around to find it.  It was the nurse who insisted they look.  Dr. Douchebag said they must have had the wrong count to begin with. He did a horrible job.   When the nurses would come in there were remarks.  "Yeah he is good looking but he wouldn't deliver anything of mine."   "He is hot but I wouldn't let him deliver puppies." Oh fucking wonderful.  The recovery was long and painful.   I HATED him.   I wanted a voodoo doll of him so I could shove a Ken barbie up his arrogant ass.  Horizontal.  With the arms stretched over his head.


Oh. My French Doctor of All That Is Good (and french) How. I. Missed. Thee.



So tomorrow I go to a new doctor.  I am assured he is the opposite of Dr. Douche.   Although he is in Dr. Douche's building - on the same floor.  Do you think that is a bad sign?   He is on the opposite side of the elevators.   I am going to bring my I-Pod, listen to Les Miserables and pretend that my new little jewish doctor is my pretty French Dr. Marie.

Hugs~
Tracie

5 comments:

Snuggle Wasteland said...

It's harder to find a good gyno than a good hairdresser. Good luck!

vixen kitten said...

Well damn, Sunshine! WTF you doing going to a male doctor for that?

Sheesh. They don't know the first thang about it BECAUSE THEY DON'T HAVE ONE!

Really, you think you can learn about it from a text book?

I don't trust male doctors for anything. They don't examine my eyes, or my teeth, and sure as hell not my girlie pride and joy.

Tracie, babe, we so need to talk.

Seriously.

xoxo
~vk!

middle child said...

Not to worry. We have diff docs in the same "office". There's a good chance this one will be a keeper.

Tracie said...

OMG Ladies I think I found a keeper!!!!

Grimmgirl said...

Oh, I have to go, too. Read Margaret Edson's play, WIT, and you won't ever delay by YEARS again -- trust me! When I had my son by c-section the nurse kept counting over and over and over and I didn't know why. I thought something was wrong with the baby. My mom (who got to see the event) said she was counting sponges -- Mom thought they had left one in me as well!