Can You See Me Now?

23 Weeks, 4 days

What does it take to be a professional? It seems to involve a different skill set from simply acting professionally. I returned a call from my OB's office yesterday. I had faxed them a request to have a copy made of my records, but didn't mention why I wanted it. Yesterday, the office manager left me a brief message to call her back regarding my request.

Generally, everyone at the office is very nice and polite on the phone, just as I would expect from a doctor's office. I called her back an hour or so after I got the message and when the office manager got on the line, she asked me why I wanted a copy of my records. Was it for me personally or was I leaving the practice? I told her that we were considering using a midwife to deliver the baby and the midwife wanted to review my pregnancy history.

The office manager suddenly got very huffy with me. "So you are leaving the practice, then?" she accused me in a reprimanding tone. I told her I didn't think so, just that we wanted to have a midwife do the delivery. I had every intention on continuing to go there for my yearly exam and what not.

The office manager wasn't hearing me anymore, she wanted to know why I was leaving the practice. Was it the doctors? The staff? Something else? I told her, again, that we just wanted to have a midwife deliver the baby and that it had nothing to do with the practice. I wasn't about to tell her that we wanted to have a home birth and that I didn't think the OB would approve of that idea. I felt I didn't need to explain myself to her.

She agreed to make the copy and told me that my file was 'very thick' - don't I know it! I told her that was fine and I would pay whatever the charge was to get the copy done. She said she would call me when it was ready and that it would take some time. I got a message from her today while I was waiting at my eye doctor's office. She didn't sound any more pleasant - she simply said that the charge was $38 and that they would send out my file when they received my check for $38. And that was that.

I thought about whether or not I did, indeed, want to continue going to that practice for my womanly check-ups. The three doctors there do not act as if they know me at all and yet I have spent a lot of time there. This past summer alone we must have been there 5 times or more in a couple of months. We have been going every 4 weeks since this September, again. They still screw up my history and ask me the same questions at every visit - things that surely should be in my chart by now.

Whenever I ask a question of one of the male doctors, they respond in a way that makes me feel like I am in kindergarten. They speak simply and slowly. Most of the information they give me about my pregnancy I could get from a "How Was I Born" children's book. I like plain speak, don't give it to me gently, let's just get it over with. The female doctor only met with us once, but that wasn't much better.

On the other hand, my eye doctor only gets to see me twice a year. Once for the yearly exam and then usually two weeks later to check the fit of my new contact lenses and place the order for my year's supply. I have been going there for about seven years. So she has seen me about 14 times, maybe 16; I suppose I have had to go back for something over the years. I just don't see her a lot. It's a small practice, just the one doctor and a receptionist. She has all of the machines of the big eye doctor offices and runs me through them each year.

My ophthalmologist always recognizes me when I walk in the door at Andover Eye Care. This may not sound like a big deal, but the OB docs still aren't sure who Griffin is when he comes in with me. Griffin has been to every single visit with me. And, yet they look at him and think, "Who's the dude with the ponytail, again? Boyfriend?" We have been married for nearly 6 years. How many husbands come in with their wives? They still don't know who he is? His name is in my chart! I know this because I have seen them write it there many times, and yet they still stumble over this simple piece of information.

Today's visit to my eye doctor, her name is Amy Covucci, I will use her name since she actually knows my name, was quick and easy. It took 45 minutes, which I consider very quick for a doctor visit. She checked my eyes with my current contact lenses, we chatted a bit about how they were feeling for me. I told her that they annoy me sometimes and at random times they make my eyes hurt and I have to take them out. She made a note in my chart.

I took out my contacts and she ran me through one of the machines that checks my vision. She asked me if I wanted to try the 'puffer' machine that checks for glaucoma, I laughed and said 'no thanks'. I have not been able to keep my eyes open for that test, well, ever.

I was traumatized by a technician at "Eye Lab" when I was about 15. The woman would not give up and tortured me for a half hour or more trying to get me to keep my eye open long enough for the test to read. I would anticipate the puff of air and my eye would water and slam shut. She actually yelled at me and insulted me at one point. It was awful. I now have severe trust issues with anything that close to my eyes.

Amy already knew that I didn't want to have this test done, it was in my chart and she read my chart, and instead of insisting that we do this test, she just checked my eyes by feeling their pressure. She applied light pressure to my eyes and said they felt fine. She did not apply pressure to me and try to force me to do something I know I can't and won't do.

We talked about changing brands of contact lenses to something that would be more comfortable for me. She asked me if I would wear ones that I had to take out every week and clean. I prefer to sleep with my contacts for a month and chuck them. I told her I didn't really want the hassle of cleaning lenses again. She said "Okay," and looked for another brand.

I should say right now that I have really bad vision, uncorrected that is. The worst vision out of anyone I know. My prescription is around -9. My contacts are always special order and there are companies that don't even make them that strong. She told me about a brand that I could wear for 2 weeks, toss and then put in a new pair. She also said that it would be better for my eyes to have a new pair twice as often as I do now. That sounded fine to me. She said that the most important thing was that I was happy with how they felt, that they fit my eyes and that I could see. How logical!

After checking my vision, she had me try on the new pair. They felt great; I could see great. I was very happy. At some point during the visit I told her I was nearly 6 months pregnant. We chatted about that, she has two young girls and we chatted about that, too. We talked about the excitement of having your first child and various other things. She treated me like a real person. She also told me about how my eyes were doing: no major changes, still have a few floaters, retina looks good, etc. She used somewhat technical terms when mentioning the parts of my eye and did not speak to me like I was a moron.

Amy told me to come back in two weeks so we can see if I still like these contacts and that she would check my vision with them. If all's good, she would order my yearly supply at that time. I made my next appointment, chatted about the upcoming snow storm with Amy and her receptionist. We acted all like normal people, and yet, somehow, this was far more professional than the treatment that I get at my OB's office. I left feeling great. My concerns were addressed, I felt cared for as a patient and a person and I got what I came for - new contact lenses. Did I mention I waited all of 30 seconds when I first arrived? Amy doesn't overbook and keep me waiting. I can't say that for other doctors.

It's interesting that I know nothing personal about my OBs and they know nothing about me that doesn't involve my vagina, uterus and now the wiggler growing inside me. They are professional in a way that is cold and disconnected. They know so little about me that they can't remember who that man with the long hair is . . . Perhaps their office manager was right after all, maybe I am leaving their practice.