Danger he is going in!

I can't believe I'm actually out of the house - on the way to the hospital for a follow up appointment. I absolutley hate Princess Anne hospital! It's nothing but bad memories and pregnant chavs smoking their superkings outside the hospital entrance!

Still have lots of questions for my consultant and we are early for the appointment so Mr Harris and I sit and reminisce... for the past 6 years and 16 miscarriages down the line we have had quite an emotional journey and all shared with this hospital... and we start to laugh - which hurts! There was the time when I had to have an early pregnancy scan on the morning of my uncle's funeral so we park the car and for those that do not know the parking spaces are extremely tight at the hospital. I have the scan and they tell me that it looks unlikely that the pregnancy will not suceed - we leave in tears as we need to get to the funeral. Only to find that we can't get into the car either side due to the cars parked so close - Mr H has to climb through the back window of car - honda civic and him being him only opens the window and ends up with his feet stuck (they are a size 12). He eventually makes it but the shoes are wedge in the window whilst I'm crying from laughter and sadness at the same time.

There was also another time when we are asked to take the foetus to the hospital in a bag as they need to run tests. Steve thought it was best to lighten the situation by writing the date and name oin the bag which was all too much for the newly qualified young doctor especially as he had christianed this one as Mr Muscle. This one was 15 weeks old and had to stay in our fridge all weekend as there is no emergency cover for the weekends - all detailed on the bag!

We are now laughing hysterically in the car both looking at each other not knowing if we are crying from laughter or sadness but you know it doesn't matter because we are still smiling.

So as usual you are sat with all the mums to be in the central outpatients hub! Some are older mums to be, some are extremely young - you don't want to take away anyones happiness but this is just the worst place to be!

So in with the consultant and onto the bed - still legs shaved and wow look at my socks! He disappears - "oh" he mutters, "Ummm yes you still have a nasty infection" - he reappears - anoither course of antibiotics required. Mr H is now completely
lemon lipped and scarlett faced. Oh yes he explodes! This poor consultant! Still the information is now flowing freely and he explains that this should have been sorted a long while ago and that I should have had this particular antibiotic and that the GPs are equipped with the expertise etc etc. We leave and Mr H is standing very tall and ego boosted! I however am crumpled and in complete agony - not sure if the consultant has left his hard hat anywhere! Pharmacy and home to bed ..............

In the deep deep dark of the night!

I give up with the doctors and sure that it is medically better for you to self diagnose and heal as we know our bodies better than any 10 minute GP appointment - we have had to look after them long enough.

Went to the Docs on Friday to discuss starting HRT which I have to wait until next week when I've been to the hospital and also to ask when I can go back to work.

Well after sitting there for 45 minutes which believe me is so uncomfortable - so I spend the whole time getting up and down due to the discomfort - should have taken a cushion - poor old dear! My name is flashed in lights above the door and an american style voice announces "Mar - i - a Harris Doctor Good-I-Son room 7" - these GPs are far too superior to be getting out of their leather bound chairs to call patience don't you know!

So I'm in the DOCs room and the sweat is pouring from every pore in my face - attractive - he asks what can I do for you - not sure I exclaim you asked me to come in! This just gets me so bloody annoyed the notes are in front of him on the screen and he had asked me back - its just so impersonal - no duty of care or individuality!

So he takes a few minutes to check his notes - "Ummm blood count very low - keep up the iron...... whens your hospital appointment?" - "Monday" I reply - Doc advises " I will give you some HRT but I'm not really sure which one is best and you can't start it until well next week - and do you want patches or tablets ? Best speak to your consultant on Monday!"

What a waste of time and the effort of having to get dressed - why ask me back to see him why not just ask me to come back but see a GP with knowledge! A waste of his time too - it's not difficult - all about knowing that the right resources are allocated to the areas!

So armed with another prescription I'm back on the way home - Doctors and Hosiptal are the only places Ive really been out to in the last 6 weeks - it pays to research things prior the event so that you won't be disappointed that you are not sunning yourself in Barbados and feeling better than you've ever felt before! I feel more like Mrs Doubtfire!

Still hopefully get more info from the hospital on Monday - the aftercare from this op is absolutely appalling - no info which means you are led by other peoples experiences!

So my experience at post op 7 weeks is that you cant sit down for long as it feels like you are sitting on a fence post and lying down is the best option but of course this leads to you constantly having tangled hair on the back of your head and a wider butt than ever before and overdosing on Jeremy Kyle - that's if you are awake in time! Also you end up having to change your PJs a couple of times in the night due to overactive sweat glands which leaves you looking like you've been overdosing in a sauna - all so attractive so glad its at night so the landing light is now off at all times - lol! Still have made progress as my affair has moved between the bed and the sofa!