Monday, 22 April 2013

All's well that ends well...

...but maybe for the moment we could let up on the constant onslaught of endings and beginnings and surprise new endings. Pretty please? I feel a bit like I'm emerging from a tumble dryer, and I'm having trouble keeping my thoughts in order these days.

As a brief postscript to my swearing, venting rant last week, I want to thank you all for your commiserations; your own swearing and incredulity on my behalf, virtual angry fist shaking, copious use of exclamation marks (on an occasion which surely called for them), and general sympathy gave me the raging energy that fuelled the twenty minute living room dance party (to Muse, The White Stripes and The Ramones, in case you're interested in the playlist*) which eventually allowed me to blow off the last of the accumulated steam.

Also, in light of some of your comments (particularly readers in the US), I admit there's a part of me that feels like a gigantically ungrateful, whining moron. You see, with the system of nationalized healthcare available here in the UK, regardless of the quality of care we receive, there are no bills to be paid, no insurance companies with whom we must negotiate. We pay nothing for any of it: not the doctors visits, nor the invasive procedures using medical technology worth thousands, or even, if we end up going that route and stay within our current county, for up to three IVF procedures. There are small standardized fees for prescription medications, and that's it; all the rest comes from the taxes we pay anyway. I know we are truly blessed to live in a country that considers this to be the right of all citizens, and the responsibility of the taxation system to provide. I know that it is an amazing gift that the considerations over IVF, for us, do not include the usual concerns about the financial burden involved. For all the complaining I have done about my care, I am truly grateful to the NHS - warts and all - for providing in this way. Coming myself from a country with high quality universal healthcare, it's an ideology I strongly support. And no, I don't think that this nationalized system in any way explains the errors or incompetence I've experienced. Because sadly, I've read too many of your experiences and know all too well that healthcare providers often demonstrate disinterest, a total lack of empathy, or general incompetence; public health has no monopoly on this. It's all about finding the right people to fight in your corner, and so far I've had some hits and some (ok, a lot of) misses. No-nonsense Nurse Julie's interest in my case, and the swoon-worthy bedside manner of our high risk OB/GYN are proof of that. I suppose in healthcare as in any profession, those who are truly passionate and excel in their work to the benefit of those around them are rare gems. So OK, I'll stop moaning now, for a bit. Perhaps I needed a reminder of just how good I've got it.

Having got that out of the way, let me bring you up to date on the situation. In a bizarre sequel to said careless-human-error-fuelled rant, and having decided that I would not deal with the incompetent schmucks who messed up my bloodwork in the first place, I booked a follow-up on Friday with the lone voice of professionalism in that office, my favourite, gruff, get-the-job-done nurse. So here's the kicker: when I got to the office, she had reviewed my files, chased down the lab staff, and lo and behold, my numbers were actually there. She scratched her head, while I proceeded to lift my jaw from the floor, so that we could get on with business as usual. Although there were obviously some major filing/record-keeping/human tissue disregarding fuck ups involved, no one has any idea why I was told my bloodwork had gone missing on Thursday, save the possibility of a rogue nurse sabotaging patient records. To be honest - aside from not wanting to contemplate the scary levels of ineptitude and any ramifications therein - I didn't stick around for the answers. Small triumph! I have my bloodwork results! I made sure to get hard copies: lesson learned. So I will not, after all, be seeing the specialist empty-handed.  

Though in the interim, it sure helped to be able to blow off steam here and on the livingroom dancefloor. And now I'll stop swearing too.



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In other news, there isn't any.  And this is kinda the source of that tumble dryer feeling, I suspect.

I find myself wanting to blog, but each time I try to form a post in my head I end up at a loss. The fact is, there is not much going on, though there may be much in the works. We have our subfertility appointment on Wednesday; perhaps it will provide some clarity, though I doubt it. There may be movement on the job front for H, which means there may be another transnational move on the horizon.We may be on the cusp of pursuing IVF, but until we know where we'll be and what we'll be doing, there's obviously not much we can concretely plan towards. Although we continue to try, I think that emotionally, a huge part of me has conclusively given up on the idea of another natural conception ever happening, so I don't really feel like I have that to obsess over at the moment.

Maybe, maybe, maybe...I feel like we're in a state of total limbo, which for a restless do-er sort like me is a challenging place to be; I find it drains my energy in a way that being truly busy never does. And even though I'm kinda unemployed right now, I'm continuing to work with several students privately, so my time is still not my own. I can't take any action, plan anything, prepare for a particular eventuality. No real, definitive endings or beginnings in sight. For now, all I can really do is ride it out.

I guess all my playlists are going to be getting extra airtime in the coming days.









* I have an actual playlist entitled Angry Dance Party. Such is life, though it usually does the trick.

14 comments:

  1. Thank goodness - gruff-get-the-job-done nurse comes through again. Hope the appointment on Wednesday answers some questions and, in the meantime, dance on, girl! (the Ramones being a particularly fantastic choice).

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    1. Sometimes there's nothing for it but to dance, ya know?

      I really can deal with gruff as long as we get results, so yes, all good there.

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  2. Oooo... I need an angry dance party mix. I just read your post about the missing/misnamed/clotted blood work and could have used some angry dance music in the background. I've had the blood lab test for the wrong things more than once, and it's maddening. I'm glad yours finally turned up.
    Sorry you're going through a period of unknowns-- I hope things get sorted out in a good way soon.

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    1. I'm telling ya, that mix workds every time. Particularly at times when they TEST YOU FOR THE WRONG THING!! Who's manning these labs?! As if we don't have enough frustrations already to deal with. I'm just really glad that all my future bloodwork will be handled by the fertility clinic.

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  3. I hope your appointment on Wednesday goes well.... Music and dancing is great for the soul, especially at times like this.

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    1. So great for the soul! Once I get the angst out of my system, I can switch to the Enya ;)

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  4. Hi, it's AnaH from ICLW. You left a lovely comment on my very first blog post (at www.inmygardengrow.blogspot.co.uk) and I am very grateful. I also went back to read your first post and I just wanted to say I thought it was simply beautiful. I am so sorry for the loss of your son.

    Good luck with your appointment with your fertility specialist. You are lucky to get IVF on the NHS. In the county I live you have to been trying for at least three years and be between 30 and 34. It makes it very difficult to qualify!

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    1. Hi Ana, thank you for stopping by and for your kind words.

      I realize we are very lucky in those random location sweepstakes..I think it absurd that the NHS is run that way! The perameters are certainly not very helpful in your country, I am so sorry. I'm wishing you luck though as you move forward!

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  5. Glad things are looking up for your appointment.

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    1. Well, I don't know what to think of the appointment, but it's a start right?

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  6. I am so happy that the bloodwork issue was fixed. I am thinking of you and crossing my fingers for your appointment tomorrow.
    I also feel incredibly thankful for socialized health care (here it is more of a mix of private + subsidized, meaning some of it is paid by taxes and the rest of it is paid by us every month, but since it is mandatory, everyone has access to it, and there are subsidies in place for that as well).
    Living in the limbo is hard and it seems to get harder every minute, but I still hope and pray that we will be out of this place soon.

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    1. Me too Amanda. As always, thanks so much for your ongoing support. It means more than you know!

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  7. I am so glad that your results were found, but what an infuriating experience that you didn’t need to go through. Thank you to that caring and wonderful nurse for finding your results. I’m sorry you are in a state of limbo right now. I know what it feels like to know where you want to go, and where you want to be, but being unable to get, or be, there. Hopefully you will find out some information at your appointment tomorrow that will provide some clarity or a suggestion of a path to take.

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    1. Thanks Brianna! You really do have to be grateful for those little mercies (and occasional professionals) along the way. Being able to *see* where you want to go and not having the resources to take the steps in that direction is so so hard. I'm grateful that I have so many women here who understand.

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