OK, so let's get caught up and dive in.
Part One: Babies = bad. Sterilization = good.
Part Two: Dr. Melonbrains withholds birth control pills and I get an IUD, which self-aborts in 4 days.
We all caught up?
Now, some of you - those of you who know me - probably thought, "Gee, Rachael, why would you see a Lady Doctor that isn't affiliated with UCLA?" (where TEAM RACHAEL! is) and it is for 2 reasons:
1) Bitches don't take my insurance
2) I had a horrible experience with a cunty doctor who actually made me feel guilty about being on birth control pills. I was there to take care of some ovarian cysts, not get a lecture about my barely existent sex life. It didn't help that she was 7 months pregnant and full of judgment.
OK, I wanted to address that before we moved on. Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. In agony.
I didn't blame the IUD for self-aborting. I thought it was just my body reacting to a foreign object. I'd still recommend an IUD for a lot of people. I was just frustrated that I had to make a decision on whether or not to do this AGAIN or figure out something else. To add insult to injury, Dr. Melonbrains was on VACAY! and wouldn't be back until the 15th, when I already had the good mind to have a follow-up appointment scheduled.
On Monday morning I tried to get in touch with my old gyn, who as I said previously, works in the same office space but is not actually affiliated with Dr. Melonbrains, who has a male partner. The Front Desk Ladies From Hell (another post unto itself) would not even hear of it. I betrayed my goodly gyn and crossed to the dark side, so now I had to just live with it.
SOMEDAY, FRONT DESK LADIES! SOME FUCKING DAY...!
So I got in touch with Dr. Melonbrains partner, Dr. Faaaaaaaaabulous! Our conversation went something like this:
ME: This IUD came out. Give me my $700 back and some goddamn birth control!
HIM: Ew, vagina's! Why did I go into this business again? Yeah, get you cleaned up and Imma call in some pills. I hope you bagged that bitch up so you can get a refund.
ME: Bitch, I wasn't about to let $700 flush away!
US: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Gross.
ME: You think I should do this again?
HIM: Fuck no. Ew.
So I wait around and when the 15th comes Dr. Melonbrains is not as appalled as I thought she was going to be. What I failed to mention in my last post was how confident, and dare I say, full of herself she was when it came to the IUD. She went on to brag that she never had any patients have complications - and while she "knew of other doctors whose patients experienced complications" she had a perfect track record.
I was kind of proud of myself to ruin that for her.
So we went into her office where she confessed something.
Dr. Melonbrains admitted she did not secure the IUD in my uterus. She was "uncomfortable" with the amount of hormones that the Mirena IUD would release into my system so she was just HOPING that the IUD would behave itself and somehow know it ought to stick around in my lady parts for you know, half a decade.
Now, imagine if you will, the self-control I exercised when I did not immediately punch her in the tits after confessing this to me.
In moments like this my brain goes off somewhere to protect the rest of my body from getting into a physical altercation and wind up as somebody's bitch down in county. I get kind of light-headed and dazed so I'm more prone to agree to anything just for the sake of getting the fuck away from the situation that is pissing me off so much.
So when she suggested I have a partial hysterectomy I was like, "YOU KNOW WHAT? BRILLIANT!"
She had the genius idea of writing me an order even though she knew I could not have it done at the hospital her clinic was adjacent to because I am a cardiac patient. I didn't tell her how stupid this sounded, but took the order anyway and inquired about what I should do in the meantime. It's not like I can just walk into UCLA and demand hysterectomy's like I'm ordering an Eggnog latte at Starbucks.
"With that order I gave you, that should get the ball rolling and they'll see how in need you are for this and hopefully schedule it after a consultation."
Hm. Sounded easy enough, so why not?
"OK," I said, sticking to my guns. "But I do need something to get me by until then."
She decided a NuvaRing would be perfect to patch me up with. After explaining to me that I take it out 3 weeks from the day of insertion, I then asked what I should do after that one had to come out.
Loftily, she replied, "Oh, I can just switch it out if you want to come back."
Though sick to death of coming to this clinic, I just nodded and moved on to my it other order of business. Approaching the front desk, I slapped down the Ziploc bag containing the fallen IUD and said, "I'd like my $700 back, please."
Mirena IUD: $700
Bus Fare: $3.00
The look of horror on a medical office ladies face: Priceless.
"We'll send you a check in the mail," she promised and before long I was on my merry way.
I conferred with TEAM RACHAEL! who recommended a couple of UCLA-affiliated Lady Doctors, the first of which I passed on based purely on the fact that he was a dude and my general attitude toward straight, male Lady Doctors has always been a little backward and archaic ("What the hell would they know about my lady parts?" being my general response) so I went with their second suggestion, whom I'll refer to as The Wizard (because Doctor Oz is already taken).
My appointment was just over three weeks, right when the NuvaRing would need to come out. I still had a couple of weeks worth of birth control pills leftover when Dr. Faaaaaaaaaabulous prescribed them to help with the side effects of a self-aborted IUD.
I wasn't precisely sure what to do when the NuvaRing expired because while my insurance did not cover it, Dr. Melonbrains invited me back to her office to have it taken it out and possibly get a new one in? She used a sample last time, maybe I could explain to her about the impending appointment, she'll see that I am not dicking her around; that I am really going through with this and she will be more than likely to give me another sample (or 2, or 3). I called her office to confer.
This is what the conversation went like:
ME: Hey, so what's up when this NuvaRing is supposed to come out? Dr. M said to just come in and she'd take it out, but what then? My insurance doesn't cover it and I need something to keep me in check so I don't (a) have babies (b) kill everyone with spiked Flavor-Aid when PMS settles in.
FRONT DESK GIRL: Oh, it shouldn't be a problem! Yeah, we have samples all over the goddamn place. No worries, just pop on in! Sunshine and rainbows for everyone!
I get a call later that day; it's the front desk girl.
FRONT DESK GIRL: (in a solemn, nervous voice) Uhm. Uhm. Dr. Melonbrains said that she's uncomfortable giving you NuvaRing more than once because of the estrogen and uhm, stuff.
ME: You have GOT to be shitting me. That bitch told me to come in and she'd take care of it!
FRONT DESK GIRL: B-b-b-b-ut you can talk to her all about it and discuss your options when she calls you back tomorrow, okay? She's going to call you back tomorrow and you two can figure it out.
ME: Fine. (I am too exhausted to put up an argument with this little girl, who is, after all, just the messenger)
I never heard from Dr. Melonbrains again.