In which it gets icky

Apparently I have something Medical going on, and I’ve been posting cryptic status updates on Facebook – not because I want to be cryptic, but because I want to be brief. But people are getting all WTF on me, so here is the whole thing, except I still want to be brief so I keep editing out the editorializing.

So yeah, that. Back in August, I had a scary bleeding episode so I went to see my doctor, only it’s a teaching practice so very often I get to see some studenty, interny person instead. This one gave me a painkiller that inhibits blood loss and referred me to the gynecology clinic at the hospital. They did an ultrasound that found a gray blur where no gray blur should be, so they scheduled surgery to get it out. That happened in mid-October, the surgeon told me she’d taken out a big polyp, and in early November they phoned to tell me that the biopsy showed no malignant anything, so that was fine.

A week after the phone call, I started bleeding again. It wasn’t a lot, at least not at first, so I didn’t worry about it. Though it was annoying, especially as it went on and on. Whatever, I was busy at work, we had our annual sales & marketing conference at the end of the month in Monte Carlo, I might have called my doctor after that. Except at the conference I had a doozy of a migraine and started bleeding a lot, so I asked the hotel concierge to send me a doctor. I hoped he’d give me something to control the bleeding, as my doctor had, so I could finish out the conference and seek treatment at home, but he felt the emergency room was a better idea, so I did that. The ER doc did another ultrasound but couldn’t see anything because of all the blood, so he put me on an IV for the night, something to slow down the blood loss. So that was my night in a Monte Carlo hospital. The next day we were all due to fly home, and the doctors and insurance people wanted me to stay the weekend and do another ultrasound on Monday but I opted to fly home with my colleagues. Because

  1. A weekend in Monte Carlo is only fun under certain circumstances. Bed-bound and bleeding is not one of those.
  2. I wanted to be with people I knew so that if I did have any problems, I’d have help.

So. Home. Weekend. Bleedy. Doctor on Monday, she told me that I could call the clinic for an ultrasound without a referral from her, which surprised me, but okay. I called, got an appointment for Tuesday, the ultrasound tech said ooo, whoa, that’s… really kind of a lot of blood, you should see a gynecologist. Soon. So she takes me over to the teenager responsible for making appointments, tells her I need to see a gynecologist soon, and wanders off, and the teenager offers me something in two weeks. I say hel-lo, I’ve already been bleeding for three weeks, how much more blood do you think I can spare? So she offered me something in one week in Zeist, the chi-chi treeful suburb where all the people who are too rich for Utrecht live.

  1. Fine, that’s where I had my surgery, I know it’s clean and the staff were nice. They also seemed competent, but here I am bleeding again, so maybe they weren’t after all.
  2. Not fine, because I still have to wait a whole week. I shall speak very firmly with the gynecologist about this. If I can stay awake through the whole appointment.

Because GAWD I’m tired. I sleep all the time, I worked from home all week but did a crap job of it because I can’t concentrate, and I cannot fucking BELIEVE that a patient can go in and say “I’ve been bleeding for three weeks” and they think a reasonable response is “Meh, you can bleed for another week.” What the hell, people? This is not efficient, it’s third-world.

Song du jour of the day: Lime in the Coconut, by the Muppets.

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