A New Ob/Gyn

Same old schtick. Need a doctor? Go fish! My primary doctor encouraged me to get an annual ob/gyn check up, just because one should not let these things go. She gave me the names of five different practices with doctors that she felt would be appropriate for my situation. I call all of them, and only one might be accepting new patients. But their quota is full for this month and next month's calendar isn't open for booking yet. Call back.

We go through that routine for 3 months in a row. I mention each time that I am a cancer patient and am concerned to make sure the cancer has not spread (not that I am truly concerned because I expect anything amiss would have shown up on the myriad tests I have done on a regular basis). This does not move anyone to help. My name has been on the waiting list, but somehow by the time I return their call they are booked, too bad.

I admit I am a bit short with the receptionist this last time around. Booking is now out to August which is not open yet. . . right. Once again I explain my situation, expecting no real assistance. I am surprised when she suggests I try a different clinic, one she used to work for, one she thinks is actually taking new patients because they just got a new doctor. OK, I sigh. I'll try.

I hang up, depressed. The effort to look up yet another number and begin this ridiculous routine in another place feels overwhelming. Is it really all that necessary? Maybe after lunch I will look into it. My phone rings. Hello? It is the receptionist who had made the suggestion. She called the office she suggested and explained my situation. They will book me if I call now - here's the number.

Shock! Amazement! Someone who is caring and helpful! I thank her profusely and call the number. Yes, they can see me next week. I will LOVE the new doctor. Everybody loves her. She is great and popular and an excellent doctor. Unsolicited recommendation from a nurse? Well, thank my lucky stars!

When I see her, I understand. She is upbeat, helpful, informative, understanding. She looks at my record, gets the picture. Her exam is thorough. But once again, I am asked if I have had a hysterectomy. No. I am pretty sure I would have known if anyone along the way had had to remove my uterus. She reexamines. No, she cannot feel anything resembling what should be there. That does not stop her.

She explains that sometimes during radiation, the treatment causes the uterus to stick to itself front and back, then shrivel like bacon fried crisp. Its entirely possible that I am damaged in this way. She asks if I would be willing to let her send for the records from Illinois. Yes, let's see what all has transpired here. Otherwise though, I am in great shape. She will see me next year.

Huh. More stuff to think about. If anyone ever had the total picture of the damage possible from radiation and chemo, they would run screaming. I also now know that the peripheral neuropathy, the muscular atrophy, the fatigue are side effects of radiation too that will probably last my life time, whatever that may now be. Its too depressing to wander down that road. I'd rather live in my naive little bubble thinking that I have an actual chance to return to some near-normal state.

Look on the bright side. I now have an intelligent and interested new doctor who can help me deal with whatever new bump crops up along the female health vein. That's a definite bonus.