Wednesday, September 27, 2017

Gynomite!

I think my gynecologist has now placed a permanent flag in my chart indicating that I am a "difficult patient."  Even though I am not.  I don't really like confrontation--especially in medicine.  I've always just gone along with things.  Except when I haven't.  And unfortunately for my poor Gynocologist, those moments have been at her office.  

Backing up a few years...I had dutifully gone in for the annual pee in a cup and stick a swab up your hoo-haw celebration, and got some labwork done in the process (I started down the menopause road at 34--but that is another post altogether).  Two weeks later, I was summoned in to the office to review my lab results with the doctor.  I checked in, and as per usual, was told to go pee in a cup.  

For those of you of the female persuasion, you know what this entails.  For me at least, it generally means contorting myself into an awkward position for the pleasure of peeing all over my hand, writing my name on my little cup, like you did for a grade school science experiment, and leaving it in a secret little door in the wall for someone to grade.

I also know that the only reason this is done, is to check if you are pregnant.  Now, having already gone through this joyful ritual a mere two weeks earlier, knowing even then, that I was not and could not be pregnant then, only to be asked to go through the ritual again so that I could review the blood work results with my doctor "stuck in my craw" as they say (who "they" are, we've yet to understand).  

Therefore, I politely declined.  The office admin looked shocked.  I asked why they needed my pee again?  She said that insurance requires a pee test for every visit.  I politely stated that I doubt the insurance company wants to pay for unnecessary tests unrelated to the nature of my visit here today--unless the doctor wished to discuss my labwork over a particularly strange cocktail mixed in a paper cup with my name written on it (I didn't say that last part).  Again, shocked look as she said she would let the doctor know.  Is it really so uncommon that someone refuses to pee in a cup?  Have we all become lemmings, wherein we leave all dignity at the door of the doctors' office?

To her credit, when the doctor called me back, she apologized for her staff and confirmed to me that they did not indeed need a urine sample to review my blood work.   Nonetheless, I imagine there was some sort of flag placed in my chart at that time (....uncooperative, refuses simple requests, asks too many questions....)

Fast forward to last year.  I showed up, dutifully peed in a cup (I think I might start making refusal of that one a regular occurrence though--seriously people, unless we want to revisit immaculate conception in this century, I'm not pregnant), dutifully had my hoo-haw swabbed, then had "the talk" with my gyno.  Let's be clear--I really like my Gynecologist.  She's great--I mean for somebody who chose as a profession to stick there hands up you-know-where--I'm not going to invite her to dinner (without asking her to thoroughly scrub up at least), but she seems to know her stuff, is kind and not condescending in any way.  

Notwithstanding all that, after my lady bits were properly swabbed, she looked at me seriously and commented that in the years I've been coming to her practice, I'd put on some weight.  Thank you captain obvious.  I told her I was seeing a dietitian currently, and that she was on it.  She then proceeded to have a long conversation with me about various methods of weight loss.  How she had recently lost some weight, and how I could go online and google various things to help me figure out how to loose weight.  I participated politely in the discussion, that went on WAY TOO LONG.  And left.  

I mentioned this conversation later that week to my dietician who about lost it.  She was ready to march on over to my gynecology practice and read my doctor the riot act.  And I realized she was absolutely right.  I should have been a bit more bothered by the whole interchange with the gyno and should have created better boundaries in that discussion--as in refusing to engage in that discussion.  For example, my dietitian pointed out--if something suspiciously canceresque had appeared in my lab results, would she have called me in and discussed googling cancer treatments with me, telling me what she had done to deal with her little bout of cervical cancer?  Absolutely not!  She would have referred me to a specialist and left it at that.  Why does every doctor out there seem to think that A--not only is being fat in and of itself a disease, and is the cause of every other disease, and B--that either by simply telling you to lose some weight, or to diet and exercise, that you will magically be cured of the disease of fatness?  Do they often prescribe treatments with a greater than 90% fail rate?  Because that's what diets are.  By and large the result of dieting is weight gain.  WHY DO PEOPLE, ESPECIALLY DOCTORS KEEP TELLING PEOPLE TO DIET?!!?  

I digress.  My dietitian informed me that I have a right to refused to be weighed, and to refuse to discuss my weight with practitioners that do not specialize in nutrition management.  So it is with much angst that I have approached my annual hoo-haw swabbing ritual this year.  As I said, I am at heart non-confrontational.  I've had a lot of doctors appointments lately (long story), none of whom insisted on discussing my weight in depth, all of whom insisted on weighing me.  Which brings me to a doctor appt I had two days prior to my annual Gynomite visit.  

Here's the thing--I have not weighed myself in well over a year.  I have learned that the drawbacks to weighing oneself regularly far outweigh any benefits (again, topic for another post).  So, because I don't like confrontation, and I know these other doctors are going to be satisfied by simply telling me I should loose weight  to solve all my problems, but back off when I mention I'm seeing a specialist, I've suffered myself to be weighed.  I simply close my eyes while on the scale.  Except last week.  I stepped on the scale, closed my eyes, and lost my balance.  So I opened my eyes and saw the reading.  Again a topic for another post, but this triggered a bit of a mental freak out.  

Knowing therefore that I was to go see Dr. Gynomite in a mere two days, I steeled myself.  I was going to refuse to be weighed!  I submitted to the cup peeing because I like to limit myself to one confrontation per doctor's visit, but then when the attendant told me to step on the scale, I said--politely, that I would not like to be weighed.  Just real fast she replies.  Like doing it fast means it didn't happen.  I asked why she needed my weight, and she said because they need it for the chart but wouldn't be discussed in my visit.  I explained that it was my understanding that a doctor only needs a weight when prescribing weight based medications, and since the only medication I get from this doctor is non-weight based, that I didn't see it as necessary.  And further, that it was my experience at this office that the doctor does discuss weight during my visit, and since I have other healthcare practitioners concerning themselves with my weight, I didn't need another one in the mix...thank you very much.  

Again, blank stare.  She said she's never had anyone refuse to be weighed.  REALLY?  NEVER?  Again ladies, what have we become? Sounds like we need to be more self-assertive.

So I had my bits swabbed, and didn't discuss my weight.  Granted, my doc suddenly "was called to the hospital" so I saw her partner.  I'm pretty sure that little flag in my chart, just got bigger.  

Tune in next time for the Smashburger lunch I really am going to host post mammogram:

"Get your girls smashed, then come get a smashburger with the girls!"

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