Sunday, August 23, 2009

OB - Gee, Why Not?

I started going to Dr. Obigeewyan when I was 15. I had horrible, debilitating cramps that would make me writhe in pain for about 8 hours straight - which my younger sister, who shared a room with me, just loved of course.

When I first met Dr. Obi, I thought she seemed pretty cool. Very passive, very hippy-dippy with her black and gray wiry curls, her long patchwork skirts and her bulky glass bead necklaces. She cut to the chase, got me in and out, and that was that.

In my eyes, Dr. Obi was an all-knowing expert - I mean, she was a doctor. So when I called her hours after the first time I had sex, panicked that I was instantly pregnant, and she told me to chill out ... I did. And she was right.

Then one day when I was 18 and working at the counter of a pizza place, Dr. Obigeewyan came in to pick up a pizza. For some reason, I got excited - like when you're little and you see your teacher in the super market with her kids. Teachers don't live at school? And they can have kids?

"Hi!" I smiled big, expectantly.

Dr. Obi glanced at me quickly and then opened her purse. "Yes, hi. Large cheese for Obigeewyan."

My stomach sank with disappointment. "Oh. Yes. OK." I ran to the back, picked up her pizza and rang her out.

"Thanks," she muttered. And left.

And I realized ... she didn't recognize me. She had no idea who I was. This woman, who had been staring into my vagina for more than three years, didn't really know me at all.

I never said anything to her about that time in the pizza place because, well, that would be a little creepy. I still don't know exactly what I expected from her. And in her defense, she could have been distracted or busy or just spaced out. Logically I know this ... but I've never thought of her the same way again.

Now that I'm trying to conceive, I keep thinking back to this incident. Because I feel like Dr. Obigeewyan is paying the same amount of attention to my infertility as she did to my face those 10 years ago.

BumpMister is a pharmacist, and he's the one who told me I should bring up Provera and Clomid to Dr. Obi. When I did, she went along with it. When the Provera worked, she asked me, "So do you want to try Clomid?"

"Um, yeah I guess."

What I wanted to say was, "Should I want to try Clomid? You tell me, all knowing Doc!" But I'm chicken shit so I didn't.

And so she gave me the prescription and told me to call her in a month if I was either pregnant or got my period. No mention of blood tests or ultra sounds or anything else I've since learned from you ladies on Twitter and your blogs. It's so frustrating.

Needless to say, I think it's time to pull the stirrups out of my 13 year doctor-vagina friendship with Dr. Obigeewyan.

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