CONTENT WARNING: Infertility, Suicidal Ideation

My husband and I have been trying for a child for about ten years now. This has resulted in one miscarriage and nothing else. We try to get medical help, but then the global health crisis hits and my husband needs two surgeries, which causes a delay. However, I am still below my forties, so the doctor assures me there’s plenty of time.

After the surgeries and the health crisis, I finally get an appointment with a fertility clinic. We go over the basics: allergies (I have two cats) and work (next to work, I volunteer at a sports club, working with kids twice a week). Nothing seems off in my daily life, so the tests begin. 

Meanwhile, the specialist goes through the options with us. Adoption is impossible because of my age. The process for qualification and the waiting list is so long that by the time I get approved, I will be considered “too old”. Fostering is the same. At the end of the list, IVF is the only option left, so all we need to do is wait for the results, and then we get going. 

The results come in and… my values are not good. The specialist tells me I have the same chance of natural conceiving as with IVF, and the values point at a very early menopause.

The conclusion: I am considered infertile. 

I break down crying, and in my sorrow, I call out:

Me: “Why am I still here, then? What do I have left to live for?”

Her response: 

Specialist: “Then why don’t you get a pet? Or do some volunteer work; that is very fulfilling.”

Never before have I had such an urge to yell at someone or cuss them out. I managed to keep it inside and left quickly. Thanks for remembering my file, lady!

I have multiple autoimmune diseases — most recently, Sjogren’s Syndrome, which attacks salivary glands and tear ducts. The doctor who diagnoses me tells me to follow up with my dentist and eye doctor very soon since this affects their areas of specialty. My dentist is very helpful with suggestions.

Then, there’s my eye doctor.

As one of the techs is doing all the necessary eye tests, she asks if there’s anything specific I need to bring up with the doctor.

Me: “Yes. I was recently diagnosed with Sjogren’s Syndrome, and I was hoping to get some treatment suggestions from Dr. [Eye Doctor].”

Tech: “What’s that?”

Me: “Sjogren’s? It’s an autoimmune disease that attacks the tear ducts and salivary glands.”

Tech: “I’ve never heard of that.”

Me: “Never mind. I’ll just bring it up with him.”

The eye doctor comes in not long after. He asks if I have any concerns today. I repeat myself.

Eye Doctor: “You can get over-the-counter drops for that.”

Me: “Um… okay. As far as disease progression, are there any symptoms I should be watching for? Vision changes, floaters, that kind of thing?”

Eye Doctor: “Well, all those autoimmune diseases are the same.”

Me: “No, they’re not…”

Eye Doctor: “If you have vision changes, call the office. Otherwise, use eye drops if your eyes are dry.”

And that was that. I’m now looking for a new eye doctor.

My husband’s family doctor probably graduated medical school before the dinosaurs went extinct. He was the family practitioner for over thirty years, and [Husband] never went to anyone else until after this incident.

[Husband] was having some tingling and numbness in his right hand and arm, so he went to the doctor. It was so bad that he asked me to drive him to the appointment and sit in with him, so I got the news firsthand.

Upon seeing both of us in the exam room, the doctor rolled his eyes.

Doctor: “So, who am I seeing today?”

Husband: “Me. I’ve been having tingling and pain in my arm and down to these three fingers.”

The doctor didn’t even look at him.

Doctor: “It’s carpal tunnel. You spend too much time at the computer. Get outside every once in a while and you’ll feel better.”

Husband: “I don’t think so. I—”

Doctor: “It will go away.”

He turned to leave.

Husband: *Anxious* “But—”

Doctor: “It will. Go. Away.”

Me: “How can it be carpal tunnel? It’s only these three fingers, and it goes up his arm on the same path as the radial nerve.”

Doctor: *Glaring at me* “And where did you get your medical degree? Google University?”

Me: “I did Google it, and carpal tunnel doesn’t match the symptoms he just explained. However, nerve damage does. I’m asking why that isn’t a viable diagnosis.”

The doctor made a show of checking [Husband]’s arm.

Doctor: “Show me where it hurts.”

[Husband] traced the line up his arm.

Husband: “These three fingers — thumb, pointer, and middle — up along the underside of my arm and up to the base of my neck.”

Doctor: “Well. If you want to waste your money, we can order an X-ray. A simple wrist support would be much cheaper, but I’m just the doctor.”

Husband: “We’ll do the X-ray.”

The doctor stomped out of the room and sent the nurse back with an order to get an X-ray. We got it done the same day, and the results came back shortly thereafter. [Husband] had a disc compression at the base of his neck, where the pain was coming from. The doctor called my husband and STILL insisted that it was carpal tunnel and nothing to be worried about.

We took the results to a new doctor, and he agreed that it was nerve damage starting in the spine.

[Husband] no longer sees the old doctor.

My doctor miscoded a visit to her office. Instead of it being covered as a free annual physical under my insurance policy, I was charged $300.

I understand; doctors are fallible and rushed these days.

But when I called the doctor’s office to get the visit recoded, I was stonewalled. There was nothing they could do. (Really?)

Finally, I showed up in the doctor’s office waiting room with a stack of magazines. I politely explained to the receptionist that I wasn’t leaving until the error was rectified. I also politely explained to everyone who entered the waiting room why I was there.

It took an hour before a nurse came out to tell me the error had been corrected. I resubmitted the bill to my insurance company and all was right again.

Related:
Not Much Assurance About The Insurance, Part 19
Not Much Assurance About The Insurance, Part 18
Not Much Assurance About The Insurance, Part 17
Not Much Assurance About The Insurance, Part 16
Not Much Assurance About The Insurance, Part 15

CONTENT WARNING: Pet Cancer

We’ve had sled dogs for the past twenty years. We use them for pulling and carrying to fulfill their needs but keep them as family pets. At most, we’ve had five dogs. Now we only have one left: Gamlemor. She’s turning thirteen this March. As responsible pet owners, we visit our veterinarian at least once a year — twice a year after they turn ten.

Being a senior dog, Gamlemor is starting to get some “extra” issues as most beings do when getting old. Off to the vet we go, same as always. We’ve used this practice for eighteen years now, and we adore our veterinarian.

He’s got a good size office, with many employees with this very same type of dedication.

I take “Gamlemor” in for itchy ears and a lump on her chest. I think she needs an ear flush for the itch and the lump is just “another lump of fat”. (She’s had a few over the years.)

However, this time, her ear has some deformation and the lump is cancerous. And checking her ears, they notice that a few of her teeth need to come out, as well.

I am very emotional at the moment, so there are probably some variations to the wording. Here’s approximately how this conversation went.

Vet: “The tumor is out, and we are quite sure we got all of it plus some good margins. But she’s an old girl, so belly rubs need to happen every day and you need to be thorough.”

Me: “She already gets them. I just can’t believe we missed this.”

Vet: “Thorough?”

Me: *Through sobs* “Obviously not.”

Vet: “Now, I’ve booked a date for removing the bad teeth, but I’m more concerned about her inner ear. And we need to be clear about what to expect. This is calcification or cancer. This is serious. A CT will tell us more about where it is, but there’s not a lot to do about it.”

Me: “Okay. Is she in pain? What options are there?”

Vet: “It’s not what you want to hear, but Gamlemor is not comfortable. She’s not showing it, but her teeth alone would cause a bit of pain and the ear makes her itchy and dizzy. I’d recommend managing her condition depending on the CT. And there’s an option to remove the inner ear, but it’s extremely painful.”

Me: “Okay!” *Sobs* “What does ‘managing’ mean? Why not operate? The pain is temporary, right? How much is it? Can you do it?”

Vet: “‘Managing’ is medication. I’ll tell you the price for dental care. But… it’s my job to inform you that there are options. I can do the operation, but I won’t. I won’t subject Gamlemor to this at her age. It’s a lot of pain for two to four weeks, and there’s a chance it won’t heal well or at all. And with her age and sensitivity, it’s not an option in my opinion. There are other practices that will take care of this if you absolutely have to, but try to ask why before doing anything. Is it for Gamlemor or yourself?”

Me: *Ugly crying* “You’re such an a**hole, sometimes. You know that?”

Vet: “Yes, but you know this, too: I do business with you because you pay your dues. I like you because you listen and you care about your animals. But I love Gamlemor. Here, take this.” *Hands me a tissue* “And take a moment. I’ll print your appointment and put together an invoice for dental care.”

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why we keep coming back. This vet is autistic. He’s not great with people. But he’s honest, direct, and hard-working. And he loves his job because he loves animals. When we show up with our pets, this practice is their voice of reason when we’re upset or not thinking straight.

When we visit, they greet our pets the way their personalities preferred it, and then they greet us. “Do you want something to drink? Great, I’ll bring your human something, too.”

A veterinarian nurse said on our second visit, “You’re the wallet; this is the patient,” while rubbing Oscar’s belly with both hands.

Gamlemor is now on medication for arthritis, inflammation, and pain relief. She’s comfortable, playful, and happy. We might be able to keep her around for a few months still, a year if we’re lucky. She’s on follow-ups every two months — something we asked for, so Gamlemor has her advocate when it’s time for her to go, but forever.