Slow Down.

Just a little background before I go on my venting spree for the day:

I haven't had a regular visit w/ my OB (Dr. F) since February. I know, I KNOW... how awful. But I've been waiting for my Medicaid to become active and it still hasn't. Their office is ridiculously backed up, apparently. While I was feeling energetic and healthy the past couple months, I didn't really want to rack up the medical bills for doctor visits unless I felt there was something wrong.

After having increasing excruciating pain since Sunday after the mini-fridge incident, I decided to bite the bullet and schedule a 32-week checkup.

Here's how my appointment went.

1. I park way out in the boonies and limp up to the door, completely out of breath. The person before me lets it slam in my face.
   
2. Enter office; sign in. Limp back to chair and utter sigh of relief.
3. I get called up to the front desk. Get scolded for not having active Medicaid yet. Explain the situation. Receive backwards instructions for what papers to file that I've already filed. Limp back to seat.
4. Get called back to doctor's office. Get weighed (131.. not bad), have blood pressure taken.
5. I ask what my blood pressure was. Snarky nurse answers, "Normal."
6. I'm told to give a urine sample from the same snarky nurse who has a tone that makes it feel like I'm being drug-screened.
7. Snarky Nurse escorts me (we'll use that term lightly) into the office. I ask if I need a robe, the answer is simply no. (Let's note at this point that I haven't been asked why it's been so long since I've had a regular pregnancy checkup.)
8. Dr. F enters office directly behind me, making a joke about how he's ahead of schedule but his staff is behind. I climb, wincing, onto the exam table and sit.
9. He checks over my chart, reiterates from last time that when I had my ultrasound the due date was approximated at July 13, even though my cycle calendar says July 3. He says we'll just estimate the baby will come sometime between those dates. I already know this.
   
10. Dr. F measures my belly, and listens to baby's heartbeat (130bpm). Caught up in the bliss of hearing the heartbeat and the SWOOSH-swooshing from her kicking, I forget to ask what the measurement says.
11. Dr. F sits me back up and asks if I have any questions. Ah, finally.
12. I explain what happened Sunday with the mini-fridge and that I've been in an enormous amount of searing pain ever since, especially when I'm standing/walking and even more on stairs, or when I move from a reclining to standing position.
13. Dr. F asks me to point to where it hurts (aww, do I get a lollipop too? Perhaps a band-aid for my booboo?).
14. When I begin to show him, and describe the pain, he interrupts me.
15. "Yep, that's round ligament pain. You've probably stretched a ligament. Just take it slow and you'll be fine in a few weeks."
16. I try to explain that I understand what round ligament pain is, and this seems different. This is stabbing, searing, blinding pain that brings tears to my eyes and nauseates me when aggravated, and no matter how slow I take it, I'm in the same amount of pain, always.
17. "Nope, I'm pretty sure that's just your ligaments screaming. Your uterus is growing. Blah blah blah, I'll just repeat everything you already know. Here's your paperwork, have a nice day."
18. I attempt to take the approach of explaining that a couple of my friends have had this exact description of pain when pregnant in the 3rd trimester, and it turned out to be a detached muscle. Did he even want to bother checking me out, like, at all?
19. I'm interrupted and practically shoved out the office, repetitively being told that I'm fine and everything is normal.

Why don't they roll their eyes and tell me I'm overreacting while they're at it? Do these people even CARE about what they do, or am I just a dollar sign to them?