This is the number of times in a row that my GP's office has fucked up my CD 3 bloodwork.
Last month I went in on the same day as my very positive (but clearly worlds apart, experientially speaking) appointment with the specialist. I waited for the results, and I waited. I'm accustomed (by now) to having to chase my own results if I want to stay in the loop. OK, so far so usual; I called and nagged. Results still not in, they said. I waited a few days more and called again. Still no results, the receptionist said at first, but then: Oh wait! We have them here after all and I can just pop them in the mail to save you having to make an appointment. I thought this was very helpful and thanked her for the trouble. Except that when the mail arrived, it was my CD 21 bloodwork from the previous cycle. (Which means that either she hadn't listened or wasn't paying too much attention to my charts). In the end, I happened to be passing by their office to pick up a prescription for H, so while I was there I thought I'd just rectify the mistake and pick up the correct results (a full month later) in person.
When I asked for these, the receptionist looked at my chart, started acting cagey and mumbled something about having to make a phone call. Long story short: she hangs up the phone and tells me that the blood was not tested because it had clotted by the time it reached the pathology lab. Now, I'm no lab technician, but I have had literally hundreds of vials of blood taken in the course of my life, and this is the first time that it has ever misbehaved in this particular way. I'm thinking that either the samples have to be stored or transported incorrectly for them to coagulate to a point beyond testability. (Any medical types out there feel free to correct me).
Oh, and they didn't bother letting me know this because apparently they had the wrong details about which medical practice had ordered the tests in the first place and the message was never relayed. I kept my cool and put on my best
Why it's lucky I asked then! says I. Because today just so happens to be CD 3 for this cycle, meaning you can march me straight in, drawn more of my
(Ha! The irony! The horrible accuracy of hindsight!)
So you can imagine that this morning when I received a text message saying that I should contact the GP's office to discuss my blood results with a nurse, a hint of
They put the wrong fucking surname on my blood, and realized only too late, and had to ditch it. And now I'm at CD 8, which means too late to catch those hormone levels this cycle, in time for our upcoming appointment with the specialist. Also, given the weird variance in my last two cycles, I feel it would have been worthwhile, not to say reassuring, to catch the fluctuations at the time.
I got off the phone and was shaking with anger until H peeled me off the ceiling and soothed me. I know it's not a big deal in the larger scheme; but I can't help but wonder, if they can screw up something so simple with such frequency, what hope is there for more monumental health issues? And don't we already have enough on our plates, really? Must I always cajole, and be vigilant and harass for them just to do the jobs they're trained (we can only assume) to do? How much more blood do I have to spill?
And WHY can't I just fucking HAVE A HEALTHY BABY already, like normal people, without all these doctors visits and poking and prodding and blood letting and angry tears?!
Because at the end of the day, that's really the crux of it.
OK, I feel a bit better now. Deep breath.
|Note that second step people. Source.|