I wanted to go see my ob-gyn last week. I made the call to set up the appointment right before New Year's Eve. The receptionist asked the reason for my visit and I hedged, telling her that I needed my annual exam, which was true but not the whole truth. I'm not sure when it happened but I've lately become very private about telling people what's going on with my downstairs. I just don't want to talk about it. This is a change for me, the person who used to have no problem telling her story to a stranger off the street. The receptionist, who, to give her credit, was very nice, told me the very first appointment she had was in the Far Away office at the end of February. Apparently my doctor is in surgery all of January. I didn't even know that was possible.
I agreed to see a nurse practitioner. That moved me to the end of January. I was coldly displeased with their scheduling and she told me that was the breaks. Finally I told her that I needed to see someone sooner because I suspected I had a yeast infection. I haven't had one of those in better than nine years and I felt embarassed. This isn't something I want to discuss with anyone other than a medical professional in the privacy of an office somewhere. Telling a gossipy receptionist (and who knows if she's gossipy but that's where my mind goes) all about my chooch makes me feel angry and humiliated and small. I'm sure they get a million yeast infection calls a day. But *I* really wish for the ability to simply say "I have a problem" and be scheduled to see someone. The receptionist was kind. She told me that she had emergency appointments as soon as the next week (!). She could fit me in then as long as I was willing to come to Far, Far Away. Fine.
But.
I have to get a referral from TriCare because I am not allowed to see any specialty provider without a referral. So I called TriCare this morning, the day before the appointment, the first day I was able to call them because of the holiday and the weekend falling like they did, and I had to tell THEM that I needed an emergency referral to the gyn. "Why?" And I had to explain to an insurance rep., not a medical professional, that I have a yeast infection. Another person who doesn't really need to know, another humiliating phone call for me. My chooch is broken! Mind if I see a doctor? I know, I AM a dirty slut who's been having too much sex! (Except wait, no I haven't.) Hey does anyone have Katie Couric's phone number? I think there are two people in Ghana who don't know about this yet. Maybe we can get it in on the six o'clock news. I did my explaining only to have the rep. tell me that I have to call my primary care doctor who will then call TriCare and they will issue the referral. Yes, that's right. The PRIMARY must call the INSURANCE. I cannot call the insurance. So I must include another person in the loop. And oh by the way, the referral might not make it me in time anyway and I might have to pay out of pocket to see the gyn. So this might all be for nothing.
I hung up. I called my primary, got the clinic, Capt. So-and-So. Told her that I needed Capt. Awesome to issue a referral for me to see my gyn tomorrow. "Why?" "Because I have a yeast infection," I said miserably as the tears rolled down, "and let me tell you how great I feel about saying that to yet another person." She gave a sympathetic chuckle. "I'll put it in for you as a stat referral." And I know, because during this particular rotation the staff at the clinic has been terrific, that they will hold up their end of the deal and that if things don't come through it will be on the TriCare office.
But I still feel humiliated and small. Having the stupid yeast gave me flashbacks to the bad days, the dark days. I felt all those feelings that I've suppressed for a long time; the worthlessness, the judgement, the weight of past sins, the fear of retribution. It was just a yeast infection and it's practically gone now. I could probably skip this appointment if I weren't so fearful. But I paid for it in shame and tears, so I'm going.
