A tale of idiots and incompetence ... or ... how you need to be a good self-advocate

I woke up today and knew it was going to be a long day. I had to do the repeat of my fasting 1 hour glucose tolerance test as well as other bloodwork and then I needed to get my Rhogam shot. What I didn't know was how long my day was going to be, nor how filled with unnecessary frustration and sheer incompetence.

Some background: I have a fairly rare blood type. I am O negative but I have something called a "weak D". That means that sometimes, my blood type shows up as O positive, even though I am negative. This especially happens if I've had Rhogam recently. For all intensive purposes, it doesn't affect me unless 1) I am donating blood or 2) I am preggers.

Since John carpools, I knew I'd have to take Imri to daycare which is 20 minutes away, then return to town to do my 1 hr (all while fasting), then go to my OB's to pick up my slip for the Rhogam shot (I'm Rh negative), then drive to the hospital near where I work for yet more blood work and an injection. Lovely.

(And to top it off, I'm the one that had to call the OB and ask for the Rhogam, they had completely missed it at my 27 week appointment. And they argued with me about it, too, telling me I was O positive - which as I've explained, I'm not)

So I did. I got Imri's stuff together and took him to daycare, wistfully watching him wolf down raisin bread and milk all the while, then went to the lab and drank the nasty disgusting drink and sat there for an hour, had blood work done. Then got in the car, drove to the OBs, got the paperwork. Stopped and got something to eat (finally!!!!) and drove the 35 minutes to the hospital near where I work, as my OBs office doesn't give the shots and the hometown hospital doesn't do it outpatient either.

I get there at 10:30 and they go to register me and turns out they need pre-auth. And my doc's office should have taken care of it but now we need to call them and get it all done. So I wait. And wait. And wait. Finally they take me back, register me and draw my second set of blood today. It's now 11:30. They tell me it can take an hour or two, so why don't I go get some lunch?

Great idea. I drive to the nearby Safeway, pick up Janet Evanovich's latest paperback, get a sandwich and some cherries (1.99 a lb!) and head back. It's around 12:15. I eat my sandwich, snack on cherries and enjoy my book. Time passes. I check on status and nothing happening. It's 1:30. I wait till 2:15 and go and ask again. By now I've finished the book, my sandwich and a great manyl of the cherries. I want to get my shot and go home, spend time with my sweet boy - our Wednesdays are special to me. The guy behind the desk tells me someone will be right with me.

At 2:30 a woman comes out of the bloodbank and tells me that I am O positive and that I need to talk to my doctor's office because I don't need the shot.
I look at her incredulously and explain to her that she is mistaken - I was diagnosed Rh negative back in the 90s after an ectopic pregnancy and there is no doubt about it. I also explained to her about the weak D. She says that I am showing a strong positive and I tell her that I've had Rhogam recently - once when I was in the ER with bleeding and once after amnio. She looks at me askance "you had Rhogam? It's not showing up". I pull the little cards out of my wallet and show her.
She turns and goes back into the lab.

She returns 10 minutes later and tells me to call my doctor's office as I don't need this shot, she spoke to someone I have never heard of before and that's what they told her. I patiently ask the woman which office she spoke to, as I go to the one in my hometown and I'd like to speak with the same person that the woman spoke to.

She begrudgingly gives me the number and acts as if it's a big deal and I am being a pain. She then demands the doctor's order (which is where they drew the blood, so I don't have it) and sends a flunky to run and get it.
I call the number and realize it's not my office so they don't know me, even though they have electronic charting. But I ask for the person the blood bank woman spoke to and this person, whom I've never met starts telling me with a superior tone how I don't need this shot.

I interrupt her, as it's now been over 5 hours at the hospital - I'm tired, I'm cranky, I'm hormonal and I've had enough. I tell her my story and how I know what I need and would she please talk to a doctor. She puts me on hold and eventually comes back to the phone and tells me the doctor ok'd the shot. The person behind the desk (not a bloodbank person) takes the message and passes it on.

15 minutes later the same bloodbank woman comes back. This time she points to the number of my hometown office and tells me to call it as there is no need for my shot, and to speak with Sara. By now I am livid. I go over my information with her again and tell her that I'm an RN. But two doctor's orders aren't enough for her. And to top it off, she waves at everyone as her day is over, she's leaving. It's now 3pm. I've been at the hospital since 10:30.

I go over to the phone, furious. I call and get Sara, who is a nurse, I think. She starts to tell me that there's been a mistake and I don't need the Rhogam - I interrupt her point blank and tell her straight out - there is NO mistake. I AM Rh negative. This HAS happened before. They have the proof in my chart from when I had my big bleed at 11 weeks - they have a copy of the bloodwork from the hospital ... etc etc. The same things I've been telling people for hours, it seems. Everyone one else in the waiting room had now heard my entire medical history - and have come after me and left before me ...

She listens - actually listens - and says she needs to speak with my OB. Thank heaven the big man himself is there. She puts me on hold and I wait. And wait. And wait. And wait and finally Dr S himself comes on the line "what's up, K|nneret?".

I give him the short version and he asks to speak with the supervisor - of course, I'm on the outside phone, not the hospital phone so they can't transfer the call and it takes forever to get the supervisor to the phone. While I'm waiting, I hear him talking to someone else who is pointing out how I am O positive in some bloodwork ... and then I hear him say .. "but look - here she is negative!".

HALLELUYAH!! Someone in that office can READ!!!!

Then I hear a stern tone in his voice ... "who marked this chart as O positive???".

Finally, the supervisor came to the phone, spoke with my OB for a couple of minutes. Then he turned to me and softly apologized, saying that they were following protocol, that my blood type is extremely rare and that they will have my shot for me very quickly. I was so overwrought that I burst into sobs. He promises that my chart will be flagged from now on ...

I left the hospital at 3:40. Over 6 hours after I got there.

I knew I was right - I am an educated consumer AND an RN ... but no one wanted to listen. So - the moral of the story is "speak up!! No one will advocate for you but you".

Oh! And when I finally got my shot?? The nurse got blood all over my pants. Just insult to injury ...

And then I came home ... and all is better.

Literally speaking

I looked at the ticker I use on my infertility bulletin board today ... 99 days left in this pregnancy. Considering I only went to 37 weeks with Imri - I probably don't even have that long. Holy smokes. We really need to get cracking on fixing up Jr's room and turning it into Imri's room. I'm thinking a train theme. Mebbe.

Have I mentioned that Jr is currently enjoying week 3 or 4 on Parris Island, doing Marine Boot Camp? Hopefully it helps him realize his potential and increase his self esteem and self confidence. He needs those things desperately.

I remain grumpy and hormonal these days and hence I was looking forward to spending a couple of hours at a girlfriend's jewelery party this past weekend. I often have Imri with me when I go, so it was up to John to watch him this weekend when I went out.

Now understand - I rarely go anywhere myself. I don't have a lot of friends in the area, so this was a treat for me - John wanted me to take Imri "so the girls could see how big and cute he was" (right, I didn't fall for that) and I ended up putting Imri down for a nap around 12. I was looking forward to some fun girl time!

I told John "Imri may wake up crying because he didn't eat much breakfast, but that usually means that he's hungry - there are fishsticks or meatballs, he likes both. There are veggies and he always wants fruit" John nodded and off I went, cell phone at the ready, in case of emergency.


I got home around 3:30 and found John and Imri sitting on the couch, eating raisins. Everyone seemed happy - John told me how they had just come in from outdoors and were having a snack, and Imri had slept for about 2 hours. Great! Right?

Well, as we sat there, John says "Oh yeah. And he didn't wake up crying so I didn't give him anything to eat."

I did a double take. And I said .... WHAT? He repeated himself. I said ... so he hasn't had lunch? "Well, you said he'd probably wake up crying ... and he didn't. And he said he wasn't hungry (he always does)- so I figured he was fine!"

I shook my head in disbelief. John then told me that he had a loose poopy diaper too ... to which I asked ... and you're giving him RAISINS????? (this recently happened and we talked about how you shouldn't really give dried fruit to someone with diarrhea). John got peevish with me and told me that he was merely following instructions.

So I guess that based on John's logic, John himself should only eat lunch if he's crying from hunger, huh?? I mean, if he's only going to feed Imri if he's crying from hunger ... sounds right, no?

Sure enough, I sat Imri in his booster and gave him cheese, hummus and crackers which he wolfed down in record time and he had a huge dinner a couple of hours later.

And John still doesn't get it. Even last night he was claiming "I was merely doing as instructed". I said "hey ... I didn't say 'only feed him if he's crying'. I said 'he may be crying when he wakes ...'." Speak about literal interpretations!

From what I understand, this is not an unusual theme in the grand scheme of men taking care of their children and I don't get it. Especially as John raised his own son from a relatively young age ... but then, he lived with his mother and I'm sure she helped out a lot.

It's just curious to me.

Imri's been sick the last couple of days and not sleeping well at night and I am going to get my hair cut late this afternoon. A much-needed and well-deserved break - John is returning a touch early from work so I can go. And because Imri has been sick and whiny, I am looking forward to some alone time.

I'm assuming that I don't need to tell John to feed Imri dinner. Stay tuned.