I showed up at my OB appointment today to find out that the doctor I was supposed to see is “in surgery”, as are a number of other doctors in the practice, and the next time someone can see me is 2:45 tomorrow. This same thing happened last week, only that time they called me in the morning to reschedule and I was able to get in that afternoon after all. But today I’d been away from the phone all day (I am the only person on earth without a cell phone, it seems), so hadn’t gotten their message.
It is pretty irrational to be all disappointed about this, as all I would have done is pee in a cup, have my blood pressure checked, and get a quick poke to the cervix and the latest reading of the tea leaves about when the baby will arrive. But it makes me uneasy to be shuffled around and especially to hear “in surgery” thrown around like it’s not disturbing. I’d be much more cheerful about it if they’d just let me believe the missing OBs are busy catching healthy, uncomplicated babies as they emerge in the healthy, uncomplicated, traditional fashion.
What made it worse was the yucky and botched conversation I had with the receptionist about it. I think she took my basic lack of perkiness as meanness, and my weird attempt at humor as some kind of criticism of her, and reacted defensively, which to me looked like bad behavior and felt rotten, so I reacted by being abrupt, and, ack. I hope it didn’t wreck her day as much as it did mine.
There are a thousand very good arguments to use to talk myself out of this, but for now I feel vulnerable and mad and uncared for and worried about bad omens and labor in the hospital and bureaucratic messes and being one small patient of one pretty big (though really good, I still believe) obstetric practice, one who may get crunched up by forces beyond her control.
There is a mama bear in me, still, who says, I am not at their mercy, I am going to get this baby out into the world the way I need to and the bureaucracy and the hospital smell will just be there, standing by on the outside. But oooooh, she is a tired and bloated mama bear, one who’d be much less growly and grumpy if things, even little things, would just go according to her plans.