one less visit to the doctor's
I rang the surgery this morning and spoke to my favourite receptionist (if I had a sarcasm font, I would have just used it two words ago). She's always miserable whenever I speak to her, which is amazing because you'd think that it would be difficult to pick a fight over a conversation about booking an appointment...but she can do it, oh yes. I'm surprised that I didn't recount my first pregnancy-related interaction with her a few weeks ago. It went like this:
[me] "I'd like to book a prepregnancy checkup, please." (because that's what all the books and web sites advise, you see)
[grumpy receptionist] "A what?"
[me] "A prepregnancy checkup. To make sure I'm okay before we try to conceive."
[grumpy receptionist] "So you want a pregnancy test."
[me] "No, I want a PREpregnancy or PREconception check. I'm going to be 35 soon and I think it's wise to see a doctor before we start trying."
[grumpy receptionist] "So how far along do you think you are?"
[me] (stunned silence) "Um...I'm not pregnant yet. Maybe I'm just misunderstanding something. I've read several books that have advised what they call a prepregnancy check. Do you not do those?"
[grumpy receptionist] "What would that involve?"
[me] "Erm...I'm not sure, really. A rubella jab?"
[grumpy receptionist] "Well, all girls have had one, so you don't need another one."
[me] (wondering where she got her medical degree from) "Yes but in Canada, we only get one jab when we're toddlers and not another one later like you do here. So I don't know if I'm still immune."
[grumpy receptionist] "You'll be fine. We don't do prepregnancy checks here anyway. It's just the NHS, so we don't do that."
[me] "Yes but I would still like to see someone because I have other concerns. For example, diabetes runs in my family and I have some questions about that."
[grumpy receptionist] "You can see Zoe, our diabetes nurse."
Fine. After 10 minutes of this stimulating conversation, she finally agreed to book an appointment for me with a diabetes nurse (who luckily, as I wrote previously, turned out to be lovely). Zoe advised me to ring back today to check and see if my rubella test was back...so you can imagine my joy when I heard the melodious sound of my favourite receptionist's voice at the other end of the phone this morning. I explained that I had a test done a week ago for rubella and asked if I could check the results. "IF they're back!" she snorted. Indeed. They had come back and I am fine; I don't need a rubella jab.
Someone please tell me that when I'm pregnant I don't have to deal with this surgery, the doctors at this surgery, or this idiotic receptionist. Otherwise, I can't be held responsible for anything my hormones may make me do.