What's been going on in the meanwhile is another round of what seems like never-ending phone calls and tests and faxes. After the back-and-forth with the one lady in the records office who had a sick daughter and couldn't spell "Yahoo," we finally confirmed that the records had arrived in Nashville. And, of course, that much information took probably three voicemail messages per doctor's office, both going and coming.
The everlasting frustration over Heather as official contact and me as administrative faker continues with each phone call, and the Nashville people talked to Heather about how they got the packet and about what was missing from the packet. They needed the HSG results and couldn't find any evidence of a Hep C test. They also needed blood tests for me. After she told me that, I started by calling Dr. C's office to ask about sending the HSG results to Nashville. They said they'd already sent results, months ago. Okay.
I called and left messages with Dr. King's office-- returning, dangerously, to the orbit of the records lady-- about whether a Hep C test had been administered and whether the results had been included in the packet that went to Nashville. Then I called the Nashville office back and spoke to the doctor's assisting nurse, Marion, who blessedly had the chart in front of her. Yes, she said, the HSG report was there, but it was just the basics, and the doctor wanted all the specifics, with the actual films. (I find the doctor's thoroughness reassuring.) I reminded Marion I wasn't going to play surrogate and asked whether I still needed the blood tests. Yes: because we're intimate partners, I still need several tests.
I was giddy to ask about the next steps. After they get Heather's HSG and Hep C results, and my blood tests, what's next? The meeting! The much-anticipated benchmark of progress. She said we also needed to see the counselor lady-- and, yeah, it turns out to be mandatory-- because they don't want to get Heather pregnant then find out we don't know whether she's Mommy or Mama. (Answer: Mommy.) And the counselor is in Nashville. Did we have to see her in advance of the meeting-- making two trips there? I was happy to hear that we could still go to the meeting, so long as we made an appointment with the counselor lady. (Made more complicated by the fact that the counselor doesn't see patients on Wednesdays-- the only days the Nashville clinic holds their introductory meeting-- so we had to get referral to another lady.)
AND. And! I called Dr. King's office and asked if I could get blood tests there. No, I'm not a patient, but my partner is and all I need is the labwork. Nope, nope. I'd have to see the doctor for an introductory visit, and I couldn't do that for another month. Okay. So I called my usual physician's office and asked if I could set up the bloodwork. Nope. I have to see the doctor, then get him to order the tests-- if he's willing. I have no idea what happens if he says no. So I see him Tuesday.
Monday, I have to call Dr. C's office and ask them to send the real films to Nashville. Hopefully Dr. King's records lady will call about the Hep C tests; if they didn't test her, Heather will have to go in and have that done, too. Later in the week, I'll make sure all that gets faxed to Nashville. Next, we'll confirm with Nashville and make a reservation for this super-important, Wednesdays-only introductory session at the clinic, and next make an appointment for the same day with the counselor. Assuming she can see us. On the side, we'll need to make hotel reservations and make arrangements to change our day off at work.
Then, I guess, we give them a bunch of money, we spend even more money on drugs, and fifty days later we might or might not have a plus sign on a stick.
No comments:
Post a Comment