I want to send my GP a big sparkly box of Russell Stover, and maybe a PantiRose ("It's the Rose...She Can Wear!!!") for Valentine's Day. God, I love that woman. She practices medicine the way it ought to be, and I'm not just saying that because I got the one-on-one doctor action I so badly needed. She spent a solid hour with me today, answered all questions, was open and accepting, and even shared her own IVF story. We talked about all my freakout fodder, I got some good pointers for my next visit to Dr. Dude (my former frat-boy RE), and she offered to write me a prescription for Percocet for my soon-to-be-scheduled second HSG. If I have a baby, I want her to be there along with the midwives.
I found this interesting about her IVF experience: despite the fact that she is a physician, and everyone knew it, the tech-type people at the clinic gave her the bare minimum amount of information at every turn. She really had to probe to get answers, and communication was always a problem. This is, in a sick way, reassuring: it's not that they think I in particular am stupid, they just treat everyone that way. Even doctors.
So. Now I want to hang out with the cool IVF chicks, I think.
At least, if they'll have me, after that last entry.
Baby, we'll take you any way we can get you!
Posted by: getupgrrl | Tuesday, February 03, 2004 at 09:53 PM
Dag, you're quick on the draw! And ain't you a sweet thing! *blush*
Just so you know: you'll get me, now, sitting in an inflatable kiddie pool, because Kotex doesn't make the feminine napkin that can hold back this Niagara. I'm starting to remember why women complain about periods.
Posted by: Jo | Tuesday, February 03, 2004 at 10:06 PM
So, did you get her the PantiRose?
Posted by: Julia | Wednesday, February 04, 2004 at 03:20 PM
God, I wish I could find them here! For some unfathomable reason, in Charlottesville, VA, my haunt some years ago, every corner store sold them. They were crappy one-size-fits-all lace underwear rolled up to vaguely resemble a rosebud, and attached to the end of a plastic stem-and-leaves job. The plastic display bucket read: "The Pantirose! It's The Rose...She Can Wear!"
What do you say to a gift like that? "Oh, thank you, darling, for this ill-fitting cheap undergarment from Lucky Seven, vendor of off-brand porn and malt liquor! And it's only a little soiled around the edges! They're PERFECT!"
Posted by: Jo | Thursday, February 05, 2004 at 09:19 AM