Thursday, September 14, 2006

A little case of sour grapes

If beauty is REALLY on the inside, then holy shite... I'm hideous today. Hideous. Hideous. Hideous. Gawd. I hate everyone today. People are stupid fuckity fucks and I'm in the mood to let everyone know exactly why and better, how they can fix their fuckity fuck problem. Mr. Ax has taken to calling me Little Miss Anthropy (a play on the word misanthropist and anthropology).

Here are the highlights of today, and it's only 2pm:

First: I don't care how awesome your embryologist is.. he/she ought not stink (and I'm talkin' about the smelly, not sucky sort of stink). He/she especially should not stink if you and your DH have to sit in a insty winsty teeny tiny room with this smelly person for over an hour discussing how embryologists make babies (which was a total waste of time anyhow, because this info was for the most part, redundant).

Second: Dont' bring your gdamn kid to the Reproductive Endocrinologists (RE) office. Seriously. This is so fucking rude and it amazes me that our RE's office does not have an explicit policy on this sort of thing. It's bad enough for me, someone who hasn't been to the left side of the menu of services offered by Dr. Swami and Friends (which includes: miscarriage, DNC, and negative beta -- um.. that's when your IVF goes belly-up and your embryo is on its way down the toilet), but for those women who have experienced all of these things in the RE's office, it just feels gawd awful to walk out into the waiting area and see kids climbing on furniture, howling, pooping or otherwise being "cute."

Third: As an IVF RN, you should be compassionate and warm. I don't care how many infertile women they deal with daily, annually, and throughout their career. A little warmth and understanding is expected. When I am upset and crying because I've been sitting in a waiting room in a RE's office with two kids climbing all over, and another patient at the counter who triumphantly exclaims: "We need to make our first OB appointment" do not think that I need you to hug me. I just met you, bitch. And when I tell you, "I don't want you to hug me" do not get all huffy. Need I remind you that you are in a medical field and just because your office gets all kinds of interesting access to my "parts" and "privates", when my pants are ON I expect that all of the rules regarding spatial boundaries are in effect.

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