The Inappropriate Doctor
January 2016
Christmas and New Years was a time of reflection and acceptance.
It took me a couple months to really accept the news of my new diagnosis and also the fact that IVF was our “only” option (or so I was told).
My husband was still studying Engineering full time at the University and the financial stress of this journey was starting to wear us down, creating increasing stress in our marriage.
Most people know that financial issues can be one of the biggest stressors in a relationship….well….try INFERTILITY coated with a thick icing of FINANCIAL STRESS.
This is not a moment of bragging but of frank reflection….it’s a miracle that any couple survive infertility.
Dr. B was part of one of the most expensive Fertility Clinics in the city, so we decided to pursue cheaper options and through a friend received a referral for a “great” doctor who was “reasonably priced”. I checked out his website and, of course, found raving reviews on his experience and success with IVF and endometriosis. It sounded promising.
I scheduled our first appointment – one hour – $350.
Jarod and I arrived early, as usual, and sat down on one of the modern lime green couches in the waiting room.
The table against the wall offered a buffet-style spread of fruit, pastries and cheeses. A Nespresso machine had options of lattes and cappuccinos.
I stared numbly at the array of treats and felt myself musing at how “pompous” I felt at that moment. I could care less about pastries right now.
As was our expectation, Dr.G called us into his office after an hour of waiting. He was in a jolly mood and greeted Jarod with enthusiasm. I almost extended my hand in greeting but was shocked to receive a brief nod from the Doctor as he BARELY acknowledged my existence.
“What do you do?” Dr. G asked my husband, with keen interest.
Jarod replied hesitantly, not wanting to fully engage in casual conversation due to the expense of the appointment.
Dr. G on the other hand appeared to have no interest in respecting our time, regardless of how important (and expensive) this appointment was.
Without skipping a beat, he pulled up google maps on his computer and continued to engage with Jarod, conversing of beach life and real estate.
“We have a holiday home in Noosa by the beach” he proceeded to tell us “and we’re not sure if we should live there and rent here, or own at both places.”
I was speechless.
I honestly could not give a rats-a$$ as to what he wanted to do with his beach holiday home!
After what seemed like an eternity of narcissistic chatter, I finally interrupted and asked if he would perhaps like to know my history.
He nodded, and with a cheeky smile raised a finger to halt the conversation.
He picked up the phone and called the front desk “Hi, can you please bring me a latte?” He asked.
Once again I sat in stunned silence. The behaviour was so unprofessional that even my confrontational husband sat speechless.
Once Dr. G had his latte, he nodded and gestured his hand in a “Ok, I have my coffee, now one can speak,” manner…..I assume giving me “permission” to NOW relay my story.
I tried to be succinct and brief (as we were running out of time) but he cut me off again.
“You were on the Nuvaring huh?” another cheeky grin.
He then began to relay the story of the pharmaceutical rep that described in detail to him how she put the ring up inside her vagina.
“So do you put it up there yourself?” He asked with a mischievous glimmer in his eye.
Once again, I sat speechless.
“Are you guys trying right now?” He continued.
“Well,” I stuttered, “We have been.”
He laughed and with another mischievous grin he winked at me and said “Oh, I bet you love to shag you dirty little thing you….”
If I hadn’t been so shocked by his behaviour I would have stormed out of the room and refused to pay for this unprofessional behaviour. But instead I sat there, dumbfounded by the incredulousness of it all. I was frozen to my chair in shock and disgust. I had never felt so disrespected in a doctor’s office.
Before I could even finish my history he promptly told me that I needed further surgery. Another investigative Laparoscopic surgery and a D&C (dilatation and curettage).
I was on the verge of tears, but somehow gathered the strength to ask “Well, don’t you need to discuss the reason WHY I need the surgery and the risks involved with this procedure?”
Once again he laughed and winked at me.
“All that matters in theatre is that I have good music” He said.
Now I’m a nurse.
I know they sometimes play music in OR/OT…….but…… to tell your patient that?
SERIOUSLY?
He then promptly dismissed us and told us to sign some paperwork.
In a zombie-like state we paid the $350 and walked slowly back to the car.
My husband couldn’t stop shaking his head in disgust and disbelief. “I can’t believe we just paid to see that dick-head” he spat out the words.
A fire was building up inside me and I found myself shaking as my racing heart screamed in fury at the disrespect and unprofessional conduct that we had just experienced at a time of unspeakable vulnerability and pain.
This new fire ended up fueling a rampage of research that would soon change my life.
