Posted by: Hannah | 03/12/2012

doctor strangelove

Today I went to the doctor for the initial consultation on getting an IUD. A copper one this time, thanks. The Mirena one I had after Ron was born prevented pregnancy, so far as I can tell, by dumping so many wacky hormones into my system that I just never ever wanted to have sex – which certainly does keep the babies away, but is kind of like swatting a mosquito with a hand grenade.

Besides, the percentage effectiveness difference between the two is 0.5%. That’s statistically insignificant. The end.

So! Copper IUD. Right on. My regular doctor, a lovely woman, does not insert? install? IUDs. She’s just not comfortable doing it; in her words, “the last few I tried just didn’t want to go in” and since that image made my cervix curl up on itself in terror I was perfectly happy to accept her referral and recommendation to another doctor in her clinic.

I arrived at my appointment right on time, Baby G in tow, because he’s reached that magical age where every time I leave the room he freaks the fuck out, because THERE GOES THE MILK-BAG and WHY IS THE MILK-BAG LEAVING and SWEET JESUS I AM INSTANTLY STARVING BRING BACK THE MILK. We were in the waiting room for half an hour, which isn’t that long I guess but is much longer than my regular doctor generally keeps anyone waiting. And then we were in the examining room for another fifteen minutes. I nursed G and had just gotten him to close his eyes when the door slammed open and this incredibly loud woman in burst in.

“HELLO I am Doctor Larlglflp (I swear that’s what it sounded like, I’ve heard her name probably a half-dozen times now and I still don’t know what it is) and WHAT a LOVELY baby, how old is he, my goodness he’s HUGE and let’s talk IUDs now!” all delivered without breath or pause.

She then rattled off a bunch of information at lightning speed. At one point she said that the copper IUDs would make my periods longer, heavier, and more painful then they were  before I started hormonal birth control; not fun, because I remember them as being pretty bad. I grimaced slightly and she said “oh, that’s just your uterus saying I hate you and everything about you! while, so help me god, making her hand talk like a puppet. Or like my uterus. My angry, self-loathing uterus, apparently.

She then said I needed an internal exam, which really? I just had a pap test last week and really, I just gave birth nine weeks ago and I’m tired of people getting up in my bizness. But OK fine, you want to know that things are physically able to accept an IUD. Even though my own doctor verified that this was the case. Whatever, you’re covering your bases. So she gives me the Famous Paper Sheet and tells me to hop up on the table, and that she’ll be back in a minute.

It was actually twenty.

Twenty minutes of sitting on the table, naked from the waist down, while poor Baby G sat in his carseat and glared at me for being on the other side of the room. Eventually I got back down off the table and cuddled him to sleep. (A futile gesture, since when she returned it was once again by slamming the door open, thus waking him up for the second time in half an hour).

Anyone who moves through life as she does, con brio, will give you an internal to remember. I’ll leave that one to your imagination. But she complimented me on my “lovely cervix” (um, thanks? I think?) and told me to come back as soon as I had the prescription filled. She advised that I would want to lay in a supply of ibuprofen because I should plan to take it every six hours for three days until the cramping subsides (lovely) and then spun out the door in whirlwind.

I’m now frankly terrified to get the thing put in. The last one I had done they had to peel me off the ceiling when it was finished, and that lady was both gentle and quiet, putting me at my ease right away. This one… I can feel everything clenching already, and the appointment isn’t even for two more weeks.

I’ll say this – after I go through all that, Business Time had better be some freakin’ good, ya’ll.

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Responses

  1. Ack. Um. Snort. Huh? Wow.

  2. I think maybe my uterus hates me too. That would explain an awful lot. That doctor sure has great bedside manners, no?

    THIS will cheer you up: did I ever tell you the story of my MIL showing me her old IUD that she kept? Mmm. She wanted to show me something special; she pulled out her 30 year old IUD. Yee-haw. Then she told me that once the doctor inserted it wrong and it stuck through her cervix and it made my FIL get a sore on his penis! There were so, so many very terrible images at that moment that I almost ran from the room screaming. But I didn’t. I think that shows I have enormous restraint, don’t you? SHE DESCRIBED MY FIL’S PENIS. Hoo boy. I think I need to go lie down for a while just from using FIL and PENIS in the same sentence.

  3. I think after all that I would just decide to go for some other kind of contraceptive! Like those little tubes they put in your arm. I always think they’re kind of cute.

  4. Well….I don’t even know what to say about that visit! She sounds like the exact opposite of the kind of doctor I’d want poking something inside me but well…yes…good luck I guess?

  5. sweet merciful jebbus….she sounds like the doctor who took my cervical sample years ago when they were making sure after a bad first sample….peeled me off the ceiling is right. IUD freaks me out-you guys still on the fence about another child, or just not ready to be “fixed”? (Im curious, but that’s personal so you don’t need to answer. :p)

    • We’re 99% sure that we’re done. We don’t have the finances or the space for another one, and while I enjoy the dayhome I wouldn’t be doing it if I didn’t have to be contributing something financially, you know? And yet neither one of us is quite ready to pull the trigger and get fixed. Just not ready to slam that door altogether. If our financial situation changed drastically enough that being a stay-at-home mom was my only job, I’d consider it, I think. (Or that might just be the hormones talking. Ask me again in six months.)

  6. I’m with May. I’d be considering a different form of birth control. My eldest had an IUD and it gave her no end of grief. Now she’s on the pill, I think — not an option for breast-feeding you, I know. But have you considered a vaginal ring? My youngest uses one, brand name “Nuva Ring”. You wear it for three weeks, take it out, have a period, put in a new one.

    I know she uses one, because it has to be kept refrigerated. When I couldn’t remember what it was called just now, I zipped into the kitchen and found the box. Right under the tofu. Heh.

    • Under the tofu??!?!? BWAH HA HA. My reasoning for getting the IUD is that I really want a non-hormonal firm of birth control, if I can find one. I’ve been on the pill in various forms since I was 15, and with a family history of breast cancer and some of the recent studies coming out about the link between synthetic hormones and women’s health, I’m nervous about continuing with them. But if the IUD proves unworkable, I will consider the Nuva Ring.

  7. WOW.

    I think I love her.

    But I don’t think I’d want her near my vagina.


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