Photo credit: The Keep Calm-O-Matic
I am amazed at the difficulty I have had in the past week attempting to obtain a copy of my own records, records that I paid various Western medical professionals tens of thousands of dollars to create and maintain. I did not altruistically volunteer for some anonymous study in which I waived my right to ever receive copies of the test results obtained, the procedures performed, the findings observed. No, I paid for this crap. I paid handsomely, in fact. Yet, despite having signed the appropriate releases and sweetly conveyed my reasonable requests I remain largely empty-handed.
I say “largely” because I did receive 7 pages today from my most recent fertility clinic, where we did donor egg IVF. Don’t get excited. Please. The 7 pages included a copy of the release form I signed, copies of the two blood tests I did back home (results of which I already received) and copies of the recurrent pregnancy loss panel and karyotype testing results that I sent to the RE. And nothing more. What on earth would possess the nurse and administrative staff at this clinic to think that constituted a reasonable facsimile of “all of my records”?
I have asked specifically for a copy of all of the charting from my FET cycle and a copy of whatever RE #2 received from RE #1 (because so far RE#1 has issued radio silence in response to my repeated requests last week for “all of my records” from Clinic #1, where we did two cycles with injectables, an IVF and an IUI cycle in 2013-2014). I don’t think I could be more specific. I am still waiting. In fact, as I penned this I was told that I would be waiting until tomorrow as the embryologist at Clinic #2 has gone home already. It was 1:00 pm there when I got that e-mail!
As for the radio silence from Clinic #1, I am particularly annoyed but completely unsurprised. I’ve sent two emails and left a voicemail message. The one person in control of my records has not even acknowledged that I made the request(s).
Seriously, people? It really is all about the money for you, isn’t it? You have seen the writing on the wall. It read “The buck stopped back there. And it is not coming back.” And since then, you are no longer interested in me or my requests, are you? No, I suppose not.
And folks wonder why those of us in shoes resembling mine become hateful towards the medical profession, particularly those in the business of grabbing cash from desperate individuals whose dream is to have a child (or another child, as the case may be). I do not like to think of myself as easy prey. But that is how I am feeling.
I also feel like throat punching someone at each of those two clinics.
<< Insert moment of deep breathing here >>
You were wondering about the title of this post. Admit it. Now you know.
I feel much better, how about you?
I don’t, actually. Truth be told, I am grouchy grouch groucho pants. But the deep breathing did help a little. At least I think it may have unknotted my forehead somewhat. I really need to stop that or I’ll be subscribing for Botox next.
Happy Monday, everyone!