The first appointment was a bit anti-climactic, to say the least.
Brian and I arrived early and were given a clipboard full of redundant paperwork (name, social security number, date of your last period, etc. - all of which they have on file already, since this clinic is where my primary care manager is located and where I came to get the 'official' pregnancy test (urine, and then blood test)).
We had made it through 1/5 of the paperwork when we were called back into a room. I was weighed and had my blood pressure taken, and was asked, "how tall are you?", to which I replied 5'4 1/2''. On a side note, up until a year ago the answer to that same question would have been, 5' 6''. I don't know why I thought I was taller, perhaps because I was constantly wearing 3"-4" heels? Who knows? It wasn't until I broke my hip that they actually measured my height (instead of asking), and realized that I'm nowhere near 5'6", I'm actually closer to 5'4 1/4" (but I round up, because it makes me feel better.) Anyway, you get the gist, she took my vitals, and then asked if we could wait to finish filling out the paperwork until she was ready to 'walk us through it, step by step'. And she did. She walked us through every page. Every single page.
Now, mind you, our goal for this appointment was to request a transfer to a civilian OBGYN in town that my friends, Missy & Brice, are now going to and are loving (they also have Tricare Prime insurance, so we knew it could be done). So, in the midst of filling out the excessive amounts of paperwork, Brian brought this up to the nurse who was 'helping us'. Her response:
"We don't deal wif those types a referrals here, we just get you in the system. Once you go to Womack (the hospital on Ft. Bragg) and meet wif the midwife there she'll let you know if they gonna let you do dat or not." - I swear, word for word.
Great.
Finally we got to the portion of the paperwork that was relevant, our medical histories. The nurse asked us a number of different questions relating to each of our family's medical histories, including alcoholism, diabetes, seizures and so forth. At the end of her questioning (it lasted only a minute or less) Brian, wanting to make sure it was noted, shared that both of his grandfathers had histories of heart problems including heart attacks, and the need for a quadruple bypass. The nurse said that her paperwork didn't go into detail about any heart issues, but at the next appointment they'll ask us questions that deal more with those types of things ( i.e. relevant family medical history). To say that we were a bit annoyed at this point is an understatement.
On a more comical note, about midway through the paperwork, I asked if they were planning on taking a urine sample during this appointment, not really because I was concerned with the types of tests they were going to run, but mostly because I really had to go and I thought I'd kill two birds with one stone while I was at it. She said yes, but that I would have to wait until I got over to the lab, when this registration was finished. "I can't just go pee in a cup now and you can give it to the lab?" I asked. "No, you'd have to go do all your lab work and that would put us behind here, " she replied. She followed that up with, "Can you hold it?", to which I begrudgingly said yes and hurriedly continued to finish out the paperwork...
We finally finished and she handed me a bag full of 'goodies' (as if I were receiving some award for all our hard work - at this point a potty break would have been reward enough). The 'goodies' were actually multiple marketing brochures for baby formula, diapers, etc. and a book that she called the OB Bible. She said I am to take 'the bible' with me to all of my appointments, including, as she so delicately put it, trips to the emergency room, so I can write it all down so my care is documented. Shouldn't that be something they're in control of, and not me? I guess it is my health and I should take responsibility for it, but proper documentation by a qualified person was a given, I thought. Clearly, it's not.
With goody bag in tow, we headed to the opposite end of the clinic to the lab so that I could have multiple vials drawn for all of the testing (and finally use the bathroom). I made conversation with the nurse (who was also pregnant, and very much so) to distract myself from the 9 vials of blood she was taking from me.
After my blood and urine were collected we headed back to the waiting room to 'activate our referral', which means we take a number, wait until we're called back into a dismal little office and sit in a chair while the woman looks at our IDs and tells us that our referral is in the system and sets an appointment for us (it's much easier if you're being refereed elsewhere on post, if you're being referred out, i.e. to a derelict civilian dermatologist, you have to wait 1 week until Tricare accepts the referral and then wait another week for the civilian doctor to call you to set up an appointment). The earliest date they had available at Womack was July 17th, so I took it. Brian will be gone at that point so I've taken some notes on his family's medical history and hope it will suffice. Our real hope is that at that appointment they'll refer us to OBGYN we want (Fayetteville Woman's Care), and that they'll actually do an ultrasound so that I know that the queasiness, bloating and exhaustion I now feel is a result of a little beating heart in there.
Although our first appointment was sort of a bust, and not the exciting step I thought it would be, we're still elated and not taking our frustration with 'the system' too seriously. It will get handled and we'll get the care we want, it just takes time - and we do realize that. Being pregnant is such a crazy phenomenon and truly an exciting time, just experiencing it has made me insanely happy! As I said to my sister in-law yesterday on the phone,"It's so weird, I can't suck in my stomach anymore, and the baby's the size of a blueberry right now!" To which she replied, "Wait until you're 3 months pregnant - you really can't suck it in, and every one thinks you're just fat."
Nice. Well - Believe it or not, I can't wait!
