The day finally arrived…Wednesday 24th June 2015. The day we were due to go and see the gynaecologist for some assistance with trying to conceive. It did not go as well as I had hoped.
After a fab weekend filled with meals out, time with the family and a trip to the British Seaside we were both feeling pretty positive. We arrived at the hospital and tried to find where we needed to go. As we were walking down this long corridor I was discussing with Neil how I would prefer to receive antenatal care (when the time arrives) at the hospital I work at, it has done better in recent inspections and is close to hand when I am in work should any issues arise. It is however, in the next town and is about a 20-30 minutes drive (depending on route and/or traffic). Neil, on the other hand, felt we should go to our local hospital as it was closer. My point was I’d rather a longer journey for better care. So as we are debating this we arrive at the outpatient area we need to be in, announce our arrival and sit and wait.
When we received the letter it stated that there may be pregnant women in this area and if this would cause upset they can arrange for us to wait in another area. This has never bothered me; why would I resent others for having the one thing we struggle to have , knowing how it makes us feel? I guess it must affect some women more then others; in this area the gynaecology department, the labour ward and the ultrasound department were all situated together…a little insensitive in my eyes.
A nurse came and called my name, our height and weight was taken for our BMI (body mass index) and we were shown into the examination room. Then the doctor started talking…I realised they had the wrong notes. The nurses had called another patient but due to a heavy accent we had miss heard. The nurses ushered us out of the office while the doctor barked instructions at them while they are still shooing us down the corridor, only to be called back. Great start! It was at this point Neil agreed about my choice of hospital!
The doctor began (again) to introduce himself and went through the (correct) notes (and not without more blunders from previous nurses!) and it transpired that the blood tests I had before did not give a good enough picture as I was not menstrating at the time however Neil’s seamen analysis came back in normal range. So the first step he said for me was to have some additional blood tests done between days two to four of my cycle. To overcome my blatant lack of cycle he prescribed me some medication that should work to induce a period so I can go and get these tests done. If this does not work in inducing a visit from Aunt Flo then I have been given a schedule of blood tests on set days. These blood tests will help them to understand if my hormones are in a normal range or not and whether I am actually ovulating or not. This all seemed okay to me. However he then stated that unless I lost a minimum of three stone they would not be able to help or put me on any medication to aid with ovulation due to adipose (body fat) storing large amounts of hormones that would counteract the medication. I’m pretty sure it was at this point my heart sank and had to hold the tears in.
I have always struggled with my weight and am always trying to shift the pounds; one of my main PCOS symptoms is difficulty loosing weight. So the thought of having to loose three stone broke my heart knowing how long it takes me to loose a small amount of weight. The doctor carried on and said they would carry on with proceedings on the premise that I loose the weight however, if when the next appointment comes and I have not lost any weight there was no point going. I asked for advice on loosing weight with PCOS as I do struggle and my diet on the whole is pretty good, despite the odd blip or meal out, and I was told to cut out startches…! No other help/advice.
As I walked out, I felt crushed and dreams of babies and family times seemed to be drifting away. I walked through the waiting area to leave the hospital and there was a sea of heavily pregnant women lovingly rubbing rounded tummies. I had to just look forward and avoid them, today I did not want to look at them. By the time we got to the lift I couldn’t hold it in and for the first time ever Neil saw me cry.