A little while ago I said the following words…

Honey, are you sure you don’t mind if I show everyone your sperm?

Really, how many people really ever have a situation where they have that conversation?!

Lucky for us, he doesn’t mind!

Today was our fifth IUI and while we were at the hospital the lady in the lab asked if we wanted to see Xander’s boys under the microscope.  Umm, hell yeah we do!

It was SO cool to see!  Of course, a few seconds after I saw it I thought hrmmm… if my eye can see them, maybe my camera can too! Sure enough, it worked!  This photo is taken through the eye thingie on the microscope, cool huh?

It was a small sample that they use to look at the sperm during the sperm washing process. So none of these actually got to the final destination.  They were the guiney pigs of sperm, so to speak.

It is a very stressful day for me, when we go for the IUI.  I get extremely anxious and tense, so this sort of broke up the monotony and gave me something to giggle about for a few minutes, which was great.

I think I squealed a little when I realized that I actually managed to capture them on camera.

There are so many aspects of conceiving a child that we miss out on.  For a lot of people it’s a really joyous occasion that doesn’t have any negativity connected to it at all.  People make their babies the natural way, before tension and pressure manages to start to ruin their sex lives.  They get to tell their children the “when two people love each other the man puts his…” story, whereas we’d perhaps end up telling the “Turkey Baster Story”.

As much as we will love a child if we are ever lucky enough to have one, the process has been grueling and we do feel like some of what other people get out of it has been ripped away from us.

Apparently there are some advantages of infertility though.  How many women actually get photos of their man’s tadpoles?!  The everyday woman who gets knocked up home in bed, in the backseat or on a park bench probably never get the opportunity to see the science of it all, and we have that all around us.  That’s pretty cool…

Hey, every story needs a silver lining, and today this is mine!

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When I was in Canada in October I had a really long attack, lasting from 1pm – 11pm, which was horrible for me and quite worrying for my parents.  My mother insisted that I have my gallbladder checked when I got back to the Netherlands, as there was quite a broad history of the women in our family having problems and needing them removed.  We came close to going to the hospital that evening but not wanting to deal with international insurance and worrying about flying out two days later made me hesitant, so I just got through it the best way I could.

When I returned to the Netherlands I had my doctor arrange for me to have an ultrasound to check it out.  The results were that I had a lot of stones, both big and small, and that one was trapped in the bile duct.  That was on Monday November 15th. The next day I visited my doctor and was sent to have blood work, after which he said I would visit him for the results and discuss what we were going to do about the gallbladder.  I needed to give at least five working days for the results to be in so I made an appointment for Wednesday November 24th.

Before I even got the chance to go to that appointment, I had a really bad attack on Monday the 22nd.  It was unlike any of the previous pain I’ve ever had, causing me to pass out in our hallway on the way to the phone. When I came to I tried to call my husband at work but got his voicemail, and was left with no choice but to call 112 (that’s our 911).  I was in more pain than I had ever experienced in my life, and I was afraid because I was home alone.

A medic arrived shortly after, coming by motorcycle.  He checked my blood pressure and oxygen, also giving me medication for the pain and the nausea, as the pain was getting to the point where I was pretty sure I was going to be sick.  Within about five minutes the pain was gone and I was ready to get back to my housework, I felt like a million bucks!  He had other plans for me and had called a proper ambulance to come and take me to the hospital.

At the emergency room they drew more blood, poked and prodded and also came to the conclusion that it was my gallbladder.  It needed to be removed but before they could get me in to see a surgeon I had to have an ultrasound done.  The one I had done the previous week was of no use to them as it was done by another hospital, and the earliest I could get an appointment was for December 9th, over two weeks away.  I was angry, because they did have access to the previous ultrasounds, and afraid because I was now completely terrified of doing something to cause that pain again.  I was sent home with a prescription for painkillers in case of another attack, which we had to demand, as they were set to send me home with nothing other than my frustration.

I came home and once again bitched on Facebook.  As luck would have it, a friend of mine read my complaints and talked to her husband about it. It turned out he worked at the same hospital as a radiologist!  He had her message me to tell me that if I wanted he would bump up my appointment and do my ultrasound on Thursday the 25th of November during his lunch break, only three days after my trip to the emergency room.  That beat the hell out of a wait of a few weeks, so I jumped at the chance to have it done earlier.  He was my hero!

Things went really quickly from there.  When he did the ultrasound he found that there were a lot of stones (as was found in the previous scan) but also that the walls of the gallbladder were thickening.  Apparently this is another sign that it needs to come out.  Not only did he do the ultrasound for me but he also used his contacts at the hospital to get me an appointment with a surgeon that very afternoon!

When I saw the surgeon he was very nice and said that they want to get the gallbladder out soon, but that he was a bit concerned as some later tests on the blood work from my trip to the emergency room showed signs of an infection.  If the infection worsened, they would have to postpone doing any surgery until it was dealt with.  He went ahead and started me on the course anyway, and said I’d hear from him if we had to postpone, but otherwise to go ahead as planned.

The next day (Friday) I had an appointment with the anesthesiologist and my surgery was scheduled for three days later, which was this past Monday, November 29th.  It was only three days away. Three days!  I freaked out and spent the entire weekend as a big ball of nerves wrapped up in a thick layer of OHMYGOD!!!

This is where I spent most of Monday and Tuesday this week.  I was checked in at 11am and my surgery began at a little after 3pm.  I was in a lot of pain when I woke up, and after multiple doses of painkillers I was feeling well enough to be brought back to my room at about 6pm.  My husband came to visit from about 6:30 – 8:30pm but I was so tired, nauseated and drugged up that I was not of much use to him.  He just sat by my bed and held my hand while I struggled to throw out a few words every 15 or 20 minutes.  The nurses gave me medication for the nausea but I eventually asked my husband to go home as I felt bad that he was just sitting there and I was hardly able to even talk to him.

I slept most of the rest of the evening and dozed through the night, except for when the nurse came in to check my blood pressure, which felt like EVERY FIFTEEN MINUTES!  Ok, so it was more like once or twice and hour, but when you are in pain and trying to sleep, it’s very annoying.  She was concerned because my blood pressure had dropped really low so she was checking it obsessively.  Seriously, twice an hour for the entire night. Both of my upper arms are striped with bruises from that UNGODLY machine.  Do those cuffs really have to go that tight?  Really??

In the morning they said I’d be able to go home at 11am, that is… until I threw up my breakfast.  That had them a little concerned, so I they made me stay and have lunch, finally letting me leave at 4pm after proving I could keep something down.

If you can excuse my chubby belly, you can see where the incisions were made for the surgery.  It was done via laparoscopic surgery rather than a proper open surgery, which makes me very happy.  Instead of one giant incision I had four smaller ones.  One of them was through my bellybutton, and that has been quite painful.  I also have some weird and painful darkening of the skin under my belly button which you can see in the photo. I guess it’s a bruise, but I’m not sure why it’s not blue.  I assume there will be scars, which means no bikini for me. OH darn!

No seriously. Dude, look at those stretch marks.  LIKE I was ever getting in one anyway.

Right, so other than having to look at my butterball belly, you’ve come through this relatively unscathed.  I cannot have that, it’s just not in my nature to go through something like this and not overshare and gross you out at least a little bit.  When I had my mini surgery, I showed you that wound.  When I had my tooth out, I saved the tooth just for you, although I did take pity that time and put the really gross and disgusting pics in links instead.  I took it easy on you.

You’re welcome.

You KNOW I got them to give me some stones!  It was the first thing I asked when they were wheeling me into surgery.  I considered bringing my point and shoot and asking them to take photos during the surgery, but I thought that may have been pushing my luck, plus… my camera is probably pretty unsanitary and I’m not sure it’d survive the decontamination process.

When I woke up this was taped to the foot of my bed, bless them, they kept their word!

These are three of the bigger stones that had been hanging out in my gallbladder.  There were a crapload of smaller ones and other big ones as well but I guess these were the most impressive and bottle worthy of the bunch.

Oh, you want a closer look? Ok!

These are my stones with a Canadian nickel, for size comparison.  It was the only money I could find in my wallet.  My husband has been a thieving thiever and has stolen all of my Dutch coins again.  Gross, huh?  Be thankful I was too lazy to get my good camera out and just used my phone, because I could have gotten some serious detail with that.

I can’t believe those, and others like them, were living inside my body!  Man!  I know it’s the smaller stones that cause the pain when they go into the bile ducts, but they wouldn’t have looked nearly as cool as these suckers, unless I got them all.  If I had gotten them all it probably would have been a pretty impressive sight.

Now I am home recovering.  I’m sore, and other than almost passing out when I had to change my bandages (hence no non-bandage photos now, really not keen to take them off again yet), it’s been going rather smoothly.  My belly button hurts and my right shoulder killed me for the first two days. Random, I know… but it’s something to do with the gas the pump into your belly when doing the surgery. It irritates the shoulder, and for the first while that hurt and annoyed me more than the incisions did.

All in all it wasn’t as bad as I expected.  I was quite terrified at the idea of my first surgery and I while can’t say I enjoyed my short stay in the hospital,  I am looking forward to the possibility of a future with no pain… at least not from this.

I wish I knew for certain that the only thing causing me pain over the years was my gallbladder, perhaps I do also have a touch of acid reflux, I really don’t know, and only time will tell.  All I know is that it would be really nice to eat without fear again.

Oh, and you know what really made me laugh?  That the doctors and nurses actually though I’d be able to speak Dutch to them when I was in pain and drugged off my head.  Come on people, I can barely manage it on my fittest of days, you must be joking!  Honestly, I’m surprised I didn’t come out of there minus a kidney or missing a limb, who knows what I probably agreed to!  Maybe I should have my friend give me another ultrasound, just to make sure everything is where it should be!

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19. Finally meet Sonya

Sonya is a good friend of mine that I first met online about two years ago.  She had contacted me after reading through  my blog as she was new in the Netherlands and going through a lot of what I did in the early years.  We quickly became friends when we realized it wasn’t just our expat status that we had in common, we were both into crafts, photography and other things as well.

We kept saying we were going to meet, but living on opposite sides of the country posed a bit of a problem.  Even though it’s only a little over two hours to drive, it still took some planning and this is why I added meeting her to my 101 list.  To make sure that at some point we stopped letting the drive get in our way!

Early in the summer, Sonya and I, together with our friend Candace, got together for a BBQ and finally all got too meet!  Since then we’ve all gotten together a number of times and I think the three of us can agree that we all wish we lived closer together!  We still make the effort to get together when we can though, and Sonya and her family even watched our dogs for us while we were in France.

I would post photos, but due to Sonya’s husband’s job as a top secret international man of mystery, that is not possible.  You will just have to use your imagination to see us together knitting, BBQing, talking far too much about 80’s TV and giggling loads.

88. Grow my own vegetables

Dude, I SO TOTALLY DID THAT!!  Thanks to Jenny, I can now officially say that I have grown my own vegetables!  I know my veggie files posts sort of died off but I did grow and eat both green beans and cucumbers!  My plants are now dead and gone, but dammit, I grew veggies!  I never was successful with the lettuce, it started to show promise there at one point but… no joy.

45. Find a doctor I trust

This one is a bit of a different situation, I am still going to consider this an accomplishment though.  I didn’t so much find a NEW doctor I trust, rather I learned to trust the doctor I have.  So, really I did find a doctor I trust in the end.  I know I’ve complained about him, but he did redeem himself.  There have been a number of scuffles between us over the years and most if it boiled down to the fact that he refuses to sugarcoat things or pull punches with me.  When I was feeling down and out, I really wasn’t up to taking it.  When he’d tell me flat out that I was too fat, or that a lot of my ailments are probably due to the extra weight, I’d get insulted and hate him for not finding other, easier to fix reasons for my problems.  That was my issue, not his.

He is the reason why I am where I am today. If he hadn’t given me that cold hard slap of reality, I probably would have continued to avoid the fact that I desperately needed to lose weight.  Now I am down almost 70 lbs and am still going strong. When I see him he is truly happy to see my progress and makes it clear that he’ll do whatever he can to support me in getting to my goals.  I may not always appreciate the tough love he dishes out, but I realize now that I do trust him. He doesn’t always give me what I want, but he gives me what I need, even if it’s a good swift kick in the ass. I’m thankful for that.

71. Re-organize blog categories and tags

This one actually took me a dogs age, but I did it!  I decided on 16 categories that I thought all of my posts could fit into, then left the tags more wide open. Basically less categories and more tags.  My whole category system was getting out of control.  This required me to go back into my older posts and edit them all, putting them into the appropriate new categories and adding the tags.  It was a pain but now the blog is more organized.  I don’t think it was a really super important thing to do but it’s just one of those OCD things I had to get done.

97. Clean out our storage room

This is one I really wish I’d taken photos of. If I had remembered it was on my 101 list I probably would have, but at the time all I could think about was getting it done.  It took my husband and I two days of basically pulling everything out of the room, putting it in piles of keep, throw away and sell … and a load of reorganizing when it all went back in.  The room was a disaster area in the beginning and it was basically just big wall of junk when you opened the door.  We managed to create a lot of space down there and are even able to easily get our bikes in and out when we need them.  Everything is put away in categories, like our camping stuff is all together, old clothes are together etc.

Granted, we will have to do this again in 6 months or a year, as the junk ALWAYS accumulates… but we did it this time and we did it well. I’ll just concentrate on that for now!

48. Get a 2nd opinion from a Fertility Specialist

I’m not going to get into the history of my issues with infertility, as there are bits and pieces about it to be found here on my blog if you want to go searching for it.  I also don’t think I will be discussing it in any detail over the next while either. It’s private and not something I want to put out to the whole world anymore.  Maybe one day I will want to write about this on my blog again, just to keep a record of things, but for now I’ll just say I’ve had my second opinion and leave it at that. So I can scratch this one off my list too.

73. Get prescription sunglasses

DONE!  Since getting glasses for the first time, I’ve missed being able to wear sunglasses.  I can see fine without my glasses as my eyes aren’t really that bad, but it’s just enough to notice. So if I take off my normal glasses and put on my store bought sunglasses, I can feel my eyes straining just that tiny little bit.  So between when I first got glasses almost four years ago until this summer, I just never wore sunnies at all.

When I went to pick out new glasses before the summer, the place I went to had a deal where you could get three pairs for €175.  So I got one normal everyday pair, one funky pair and one pair of SUNNIIIEEEES!  I was so happy!  I snapped this photo in the car on our way to France.  I wore them a lot there, but sadly haven’t had a lot of occasion to wear them here.  Stupid Dutch weather.

Now I have 2.5 weeks before I can scratch off this one: 13. Fly home to Canada alone. Cannot. Frigging. Wait!!  You can bet your ass I’ll be writing about that one!

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Today I went for my second gastroscopie and all I can say is that it wasn’t as good an experience as the first one.  Everything seemed to be following the same routine as the first time, I went in, they took my blood pressure, laid me down and gave me the drugs.  Then I was off to La La Land.

This time I paid attention when they gave me the drugs and watched the time on the monitor.  He put it in at 25 seconds and the last I remember seeing was 47.  So that stuff works pretty quickly!  I was happy to drift off knowing when I woke up I’d be in the recovery room with Xander laughing at me and my repeated conversations.  That’s not exactly how it happened though.

When I woke up I couldn’t breathe, I was gagging and people were shushing and tutting me while holding me down.  It felt like someone had their fist in my throat and between trying to breathe, trying not to gag and puking up some kind of foam or something, I was terrified!

Had I known this would happen I may have been prepared and not felt so fucked up by it, but I expected, like the last time, to wake up in another room without remembering anything that happened.  Not to wake up in the middle of it in a panic.  It was a total nightmare…  I wasn’t ready and I wasn’t really sure what was going on. 

I remember them wheeling me into the other room and Xander walking in a minute later.  When he asked how it went I just cried.  I felt ridiculous and like a total baby but it was just me and him there and I didn’t care.  It was a really shitty experience and I was totally shaken up by it.  He agreed that something wasn’t right because before I was sleepy and in and out for a while, but this time I was already awake, probably a mixture of there not being enough sedative and masses of adrenaline.   Neither of us were very happy about it but he just sat there and let me cry it out, and then we waited until I could leave.

I came home and the adrenaline wore off quickly, I stumbled my way to bed and crashed for over three hours.  Now I’m awake and I my throat feels like someone has been punching it from the inside, not raw but swollen and it hurts to swallow.   I hope to god I never have to have this done again.

On the plus side, in true Tammy style, I made sure I didn’t leave without a little keepsake for my blog!!

Look ma!  No food!

Yeah, that’s my stomach, pretty gross huh!  Oh please, you should know me better than to think I wouldn’t post something like this if I had the chance!

When the doctor gave me the photo I asked her if there was anything wrong, she said for the most part things looked ok but there is inflammation in my stomach and they aren’t sure what the cause is.  So they took a few biopsies and we’ll have the results of the tests then.

So, now all I can do is wait and hope to god I never, for as long as I live, have to have this procedure done again.  Ever.

I wish I’d asked for a photo of the last time when there was still food in there, oh man that would have been awesome!  Gross… but awesome!

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Actually, no… don’t!

A week from today I have my 2nd appointment for a Gastroscopy, not fun.  It goes a little something like this…

I just had it done on the 18th, and you’d think once would be enough but please… this is me we’re taking about.  It goes without saying that my body will play evil tricks on me that make me want to dress myself in cement shoes and throw me in a river.  

When I visited the first time I did just as they said, no food after midnight the previous evening (I didn’t eat after 6pm just to be extra good!), no food in the morning, and so on.   I was nervous because I was going to be sedated, which has never happened, but it was better than the alternative.   The alternative being held down while the people shove this thing down your throat.  Sorry, but… no.

So I get there, they try really hard to talk me out of the sedation because apparently the Dutch, being the hardcore mofos that they are, take it without being sedated at all.  Yeah, they also pull teeth without freezing.  That makes them crazy, not me. 

Long story short… they sedate me, I wake up, and Xander is there.  Apparently, we had the same conversation numerous time, which was quite amusing for him.   This is his version:

T: "They tried to convince me not to take the sedation"
X: "Oh yeah?"
T: "I considered it"
T: "Did they even do it? I looked at the clock and it was 8:45, so they couldn’t have taken more than a minute. I think I am ready to go home now"
T: Zzzzzzz

<2 mins later>
T: "They tried to convince me not to take the sedation"
X: "Oh yeah?"
T: "I considered it"
T: "Did they even do it? I looked at the clock and it was 8:50, so they couldn’t have taken more than a minute. Can I go home now?"
T: Zzzzz

<2 mins later>
…..

I don’t remember so I don’t really care.   He took this photo of me, which he –says- I asked him to take ’for my blog’, I’m not so sure, I mean seriously?

He should have known better… but, then again I just put it on here for the whole world to see, so maybe I really did say it after all.  Perhaps I should get my head checked next time I’m there, just to see if I have any of my marbles left. 

You know what bothers me most about this photo?  It’s not how fat I am, or how horrible my face looks when I’m sedated, or even the state of my hair.  It’s that pad they put under my face.  It reminds me of one of those pads you buy for puppies to pee on, which makes me wonder what exactly they were expecting to come out of my face.  Was that really necessary?

I want those drugs again because at that moment, I didn’t have a care in the world.

Anyhow, you are probably wondering why, if I’ve obviously already had the procedure, am I having it done again so soon?  That’s where the evil body tricks come in.   Even though I fasted for like SIX WHOLE FREAKIN HOURS longer than what was asked of me, I still had food in my stomach when they went in with the scope.  She could even tell my husband what I had for dinner the night before… nice.

The reason I had to go in the first place was because of all the problems I’ve had over the past few years with acid reflux, and after two different medications the doctor has decided it’s time to go in, check things out and take some biopsies of my stomach.

Needless to say, the doctor wasn’t expecting to go in and see what was left of my fajitas!  I guess it’s not a good thing when your body digests that slowly, maybe that’s why I’m fat!

Shut up and leave me alone, I’ll take any excuse I can get.

Now I have to go back again on the 2nd, and just when I thought it couldn’t get any more fun… I now have to fast the ENTIRE DAY before my appointment.  So my dinner on Monday will be the last thing I eat until my lunch on Wednesday.   All I can have are drinks and clear soup, not even the little bits in the soup, just the broth.

I am going to be the pyscho hungry bitch from hell!  How much do you want to bet that Xander “has to work in the office” that day?

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Well the blood work came back and the only thing that showed up was that my glucose was high.  I phoned the doctor and was surprised when All In Your Head Doc’s wife answered.   She was the ‘nice’ one (if you use a really wonky scale of what is nice, I mean).  Here’s the conversation:

“Hello this is *Name*Birthday* calling for the results of my bloodwork”
”Ah yes, let me see… yes, your glucose is high, so we will make an appointment to talk to you”
”Ok, umm, so what does that mean?”
”Well, it means you could be diabetic but we will have to do more tests.  You should lose weight."
”Ok…”
”Do you not speak Dutch yet?”
”Well, yes, some”
”You have been here a long time, this is bad!”
”Uh, ok, well I like to do these things in English so I know exactly what is happening”
”You should speak Dutch by now!”
”SO ANYWAY, about that appointment?!”  *Gives middle finger to phone for a few seconds*
”Yes we will book a double appointment so you can talk to my husband and find out what is going on.”
”Great, yup see you then!”

Jesus, well any good mood I may have been having before that phone call was pretty much obliterated.

We made an appointment for later in the week.   I got off the phone and was too busy being annoyed that she wasted time while talking about my health to scold me about not speaking Dutch with her.   Once I got over that it sunk in.  Possibly diabetic.  Well it makes sense I guess, I do need to lose weight and my father, his father, and loads of others on that side of the family have diabetes.  Crap.

I spent the week preparing myself for the big double appointment.  I saw lots of lectures about my weight, info on diabetes and what I need to do.  It would be a lot to take in.   A double appointment, how long is that?  The last time we were there for about 30 minutes for goodness sake.

I spoke to my mother, who has a decent amount of experience with Diabetes from dealing with my dad.  She ran the numbers of what is considered high or dangerous, what is acceptable and what numbers I should be shocked by.  So I went into the meeting at least somewhat prepared.

I went, and here’s what was said.

“Your bloodwork came back and your glucose is a little high”
”How high was it?”
”Well, it was 7.2 we consider anything between 4-7 to be normal. You are .2 over and it’s possible that the injection I gave you in your foot the day before may have affected it by .1 or .2”
“Um, so doesn’t that put me in the normal range?”
”Yes, but you are on the high side of the normal range which puts you at risk for diabetes in the future”
”Right…”

At this point I’m sitting there pondering what is going on.  Obviously, over the years I’ve not been as active as I could.  I’ve also gone through some shitty times where food was my one source of comfort.  I gained weight, and yeah… a fair bit of it too.  I knew a change in habits was necessary, I’ve known it for a while now, but I’m not like can’t move, smash the window and get me out with a crane when I die fat.   Besides, if I fall within the normal range, and don’t actually HAVE anything… what is causing the symptoms I went to him with initially?!   I still have no real answer, but I still will have to sit through lectures about things already knew anyway.

There was no lecture though.  I assumed with the booking of a double appointment, that meant they’d have some kind of info for me about what exactly is going on.  So not the case.

“Ok, so you’ll need to change the way you do things. Eat less and be more active”
”Right… great… so your wife said that more tests need to be done to find out for sure?”
”Well, no… “ *Enter some weird explanation here that I’ve forgotten already, because I was too busy boggling over how two doctors who are married and work together 24/7 can not even get their facts straight between them*
”Ok, I thought she said that in order to be sure it wasn’t a fluke and to find out if there really is a problem with glucose / diabetes that two tests needed to be done”
”So, there is a place here in Rotterdam that you can go to that will help you with your lifestyle change.  Here is their card”
”Right, ok”
”I will send you for more bloodwork, you can call me 3 days after for the results”
”Ok…” but I thought he said I didn’t need it… hrmm.
”Bye”

There were a few little bits I’m forgetting but that was basically the entire conversation.   Wow, do I feel informed!  When my husband was urging me to go to the doctor, I said these exact words.

They are just going to say they don’t know, it’s inconclusive, they can’t help me… but I need to lose weight!

Not sure I was that far off, this seems like a lot of needles and frustration to go through for such predictable and useless results.  Like with my infertility problems, hair loss and everything else.  They always say I MIGHT have something, but they aren’t sure, tests are inconclusive… but lose weight!

Yes, I know I need to lose weight.  What I DON’T know is why these other things are happening.   I see people more overweight than me all the time, they have full heads of hair and most of them have children.  In fact, I can’t remember the last time I saw a balding, childless fat woman.   So infertility, hair loss and everything else isn’t just weight related.   If they could say, this is happening because this happens in your body because you are overweight.  FINE, I get it!  They don’t do that though, it’s like they never know what they are doing and my weight is the obvious fall back choice so they have SOMETHING to say.

Ugh, now I’m ranting.  Anyhow, the card he gave me is for a physiotherapist?  I’ve never been to one but when I think of them I imagine people you see after you break a leg, not someone who is going to help you with getting motivated about making a big lifestyle change, or helping you figure out how.  Maybe I’m wrong, I don’t know.  I just hope it’s not another case of me going somewhere, making the effort just to be told I’m in the wrong place, they can’t help me, etc because that happens far too often.

I need to call back today for the results of the 2nd set of blood work, but I’m not exactly sure why I’m going to bother, they won’t tell me much.   In any case, I’m reconsidering my decision not to go to the clinic in Den Haag.  At least there I’ll be able to speak to them in my own language, where I can explain myself and have things explained to me effortlessly, without the added lecture on my language skills.  I think I’ve come pretty far in regards to speaking Dutch over the years, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have the right to do the important things that need clarity in my own language.

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Ok, so as I mentioned in my post about my latest visit to the Doc the one thing he did agree to do was to send me to get x-rays of my foot.   I’d stepped on one of the dogs toys months ago and my foot has been bothering me since.  After squeezing around my pinky toe for a while and hitting the right spot, he pretty much had to peel me off the ceiling.  His opinion was that since there was nothing broken and it being so tender in that one particular spot, that I injured the joint and it was getting inflamed.   He gave me a shot of cortisone into the joint in hopes that it would give the joint a chance to heal.  If it isn’t feeling significantly better after two weeks, he will give me a follow up shot to give it some more time.

Now for the interesting part.  While I was there to get the shot, which I had been DREADING as I didn’t want to see him again after my previous experience, he asked if I had a chance to think about our conversation.   I told him that I had thought about it and that I didn’t agree with him.  I basically explained what I said in my post where I explained it here.

I think he must have either been feeling bad, or maybe his wife (partner in the practice and the doctor I see most often) gave him a kick in the arse.   In any case he was much more friendly and seemed to think that we had some kind of miscommunication.   In the beginning I was of the opinion that I couldn’t really imagine what miscommunication would make a doctor say something like that, but I shut up and listened to him.

He had us in his office for 30-40 minutes talking and sort of hashing it all out, and in the end he sent me for blood work to check my cholesterol, blood sugar, thyroid, kidney and liver.  I have to phone on Monday to find out the results of those.

He is also giving me a referral to see a dermatologist that specializes in hair loss, which makes me very happy.  My hair has been thinning out quite drastically over the past 3-4 years (especially around the crown) and it’s gotten to the point where I’m completely paranoid and angry about it.  Also frustrated by the fact that nobody would or could help me.   I’m hoping that this doctor will at least be able to stop it from falling out more, even if they can’t make what is gone grow back.   When I was having the fertility issues my gynecologist sent me to a dermatologist at the same hospital where she was, but all he did was look at my head and say “Yes, you are losing your hair.”  Well, no shit Sherlock!   He said there was nothing he could do, didn’t explain why it was falling out or if it would continue to do so.   Hopefully the new dermatologist will have the answers to those questions… please keep your fingers crossed for me with that!

So, that’s the update on my doctor situation.  I don’t know if I caught him on a bad day the last time or what, but it was a total turnaround when I saw him on Thursday.   My crappy appointment was at 4:40pm on a Friday, so maybe that had something to do with it.   I got him at the very end of his week and he was in a crappy mood?  Not really an excuse for such insensitive treatment but I guess we all have our moments.

I was told (by my therapist after explaining the episode at the doctor) that it’s possible to have more than one doctor, and that it’s entirely up to me who I see for what issues.  So while I am going to give my current doctors another chance, I may still look into this International clinic in Den Haag.   I’m quite curious to see what their opinion would be on our fertility issues.

I’ll keep ya’s posted!

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At least that’s what my doctor said the other day when in the process of telling me why he won’t help me.  Nice.

One common theme among expats here in NL is their dislike and distrust of Dutch doctors.  I’ve always sort of been on the fence because I’ve never had a truly horrendous experience like some others have, but I’ve never actually felt helped with anything either.

My history with Dutch doctors is a bit of a mixed bag.  On the smaller issues, like a sore ankle or something, they don’t mind shipping you off for x-rays and such.  When the problems require more thought and attention, this is where they have always let me down.

One major issue for me was Project Baby.  A silly term I used over the years during our unsuccessful attempts to try to start a family.   During this time I saw a number of doctors, and none really made me feel like they truly want to help.  Either they just showed a complete lack of interest from the start or they seem to really want to help in the beginning but as time went on their level of interest and desire to help dwindled.

There is always an excuse though, and that’s the most irritating part.  They often have quite absurd reasons for not doing things and when you question it they often will tend to fall back on the usual answer – This is not America, we do things differently here!   Each and every time I’ve heard a variation of that same answer it has made me cringe.   I don’t know if they realize it but in saying something like that they are making it blatantly obvious that to some degree they are holding the fact that I am foreign against me.

This is one of the many number of reasons that I’ve decided to give up on Dutch doctors entirely.   I’ve recently learned about a medical center in Den Haag (about a half hour from here), which deals entirely with English speaking foreigners.   Their doctors are mainly Canadian, American, Australian etc and from what I’ve heard, their attitudes reflect that.   I would guess that the bulk of their patients are from Shell and other English speaking companies throughout Den Haag.

I heard about them from a friend of mine who moved here two years ago.  I think she also had some bad experiences with Dutch doctors and like me, started looking for an alternative.   In her opinion, the doctors at the English speaking medical center are much more eager to help.   She said she never feels rushed, they take their time explaining your treatment options and they really make the effort to try to find out what exactly is wrong.   I need that, badly.

The last straw for me came on Thursday afternoon, when I had an appointment to see my doctor about my foot, which had been bothering me for quite some time.   I’d stepped on one of the dogs toys back in September or October and since then it’s been bothering me off and on, usually when I was walking on it a lot.   After my trip to Belgium on Sunday and walking on it for 5-6 hours, I was in agony and finally decided to make an appointment.

Over the last few years, I’ve had little things bothering me that were happening with my body.  Each time one of these things would happen I’d mention it to my husband and say that I will tell the doctor about it at my next appointment.  I never do though, by the time I go see the doctor again I always forget.   Finding the doctors quite useless, I tend to not go see them unless I really have to, so my appointments are few and far between.

When I made the appointment for my foot, my husband suggested that I make a list of these little ailments so that I can show them to my doctor and see if he thinks it is perhaps caused by a larger problem, for example heart, sugar or thyroid problems.  I come from a family with a long history of Cancer and my father is Diabetic, has high blood pressure and has had bypass surgery on his heart a few years ago.   I wanted to be thorough and make sure the doctor had a full picture to decide how to go about doing the tests.  So I put down every tiny feeling I’ve had over the past few years.  Also, problems I’ve been seeing the doctors for that have been ‘inconclusive’ or there was no cause found.

I knew it was pointless to make the list in the first place, assuming that he’d attribute it all to the fact that I am overweight.  Which seems to be a favorite of theirs… and while I understand that some things may be caused by being heavy, I also sometimes wonder if the weight gain isn’t also a symptom of something.  As I gain weight –very- easily and have a lot of trouble getting it off.

When I was seeing the gynecologist during the time we were trying to conceive.  She said I had PCOS-LIKE symptoms, but she couldn’t say for sure if I had it.   That the hair loss MAY be Androgenic Alopecia, but the tests were inconclusive.   In the end it all came to the same answer “We can’t help you”.

When I showed the list to my doctor, his answer was “See a psychiatrist, it’s all in your head”.  At that point I just went silent.  I sat there looking at him, and trying to think of what to say.   He went on to say that anyone who comes in with a list like that should see a psychiatrist and that there is nothing wrong, except what is wrong in their head.

The person I was a few years ago probably would have had a screaming fit, maybe not in the office but once we got home.  All I could do was sit slackjawed trying to fight back the tears.   I FELT crazy.  Mostly because I wasn’t expecting that reaction at all, and after working so hard to adapt and create a life for myself here, when it was finally working and I try to get help for some physical problems… they tell me to see a psychiatrist?!

My husband was with me and was as shocked as I was.  I still couldn’t even speak so he asked the doctor why he would say that.   Surely there were some tests he could do to see if there was perhaps an underlying cause?   The doctor replied, telling him that there could be any number of reasons for the things on the list to be happening, but it would mean I had a number of different things wrong me with me.   My husband tried to argue that maybe some of them WERE actually wrong with me so why doesn’t he test to at least rule them out?

The doctors response?  -   “Well, where would I start?!”

That’s when my husband started to get a little angry and said “Well, YOU are the doctor!!”

In the meantime, I sat and looked from one to the other, frustrated with myself because I felt a few tears escaping even though I was trying really hard not to cry.   I managed to squeak out a few “Ok thanks”, in hopes that they would get the hint and stop so I could just get out of there.

Eventually my husband gave up and we left.

I could tell he was nervous in the car and when we got home, quickly busying himself in the kitchen and avoiding starting a conversation with me.   Experience would have told him that in these situations in the past, I’d fly into a rage about how much I hated it here, even though I don’t always, at moments like that I do.

I had no energy for it though, and I haven’t for quite a long time.   The fight in me is gone when it comes to dealing with certain aspects of life in this country.   So much has changed for the better but there are some things that I know will always remain the same, and dealing with the doctors here is one of them.

These are the same doctors who when I visited them years ago, when struggling to adapt and deal with the culture shock and homesickness, put me on anti-depressants, rather than helping to find me a therapist like I asked.  Not once, not twice, but three times.  Three times I was put on anti-depressants after visiting the doctor to try to get a referral to a therapist.

The same doctors who a previous time when I went asking for a therapist, forwarded me to a man who deals with asylum seekers.   Who, when I explained that I was feeling down about the weight I’d gained and was having trouble with adjusting to my new life, told me to “Lose weight or go back to Canada”.

The same doctors that after 7 years of requests, finally forwarded me to a psychologist.  Who told me to see my doctor and wean myself off the anti-depressants IMMEDIATELY, because I did not suffer from depression at all, rather a difficult situation after years of asking for help and not receiving it.

So now, when I have honest to goodness physical problems, they tell me to get a therapist.

The thing is, I know it’s not in my head.  I know that because some of the things I’m experiencing has run in my family.   The burning red cheeks and the sensitivity to touch (if you poke me, it hurts – BAD), for example.   These are not things that I alone have been feeling… my sister, my mother and my grandmother on my mother’s side all have this as well.  How can I be making it up in my head when the last three generations of my mother’s family have had the exact same symptoms?

The only difference is, I mentioned it to my doctor to try to find out why.  Maybe I should send my sister to her doctor in Canada and see if THEY can figure it out.  At least then I’d know.

Anyhow, it’s not like I am falling apart at the seams.   Maybe I am a bit more sensitive in regards to different things I feel happening in my body because of the history in our family.  My father lost almost his entire family (his grandmother, his mother and her 5 siblings) to Cancer.  So yeah, maybe I am a little paranoid.  Still though, wouldn’t that make my doctor a little more cautious as well?

I’m sure losing weight would maybe reduce this some, as I wouldn’t worry so much about developing heart trouble, high blood pressure or Diabetes (like my dad)… but that isn’t going to happen overnight either.

Please don’t get me wrong, this is not a I HATE THE NETHERLANDS post.   This is just about this one aspect of life in the Netherlands that has me frustrated right now.   While, during these moments of frustration, I may sound like I hate it here… I don’t.   It’s just hard sometimes when dealing with the things that don’t change and continue to be a source of frustration.

P.s. This feels a little wierd, I’m not used to writing about such personal topics anymore. Eish.

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If I were to make a list of my least favorite places to be here in the Netherlands, it would be here.   The waiting room at our local huisartsenpost (kind of like outpatients, where you go outside of office hours, only … different).  I took this photo with my mobile while sitting there being miserable this afternoon.

We’ve been here a few times before like The Night From Hell, when I thought I was dying but turned out to just have heartburn and other times but I forget why.  Every time we are there I am made more miserable by being there than I was with whatever made me go there in the first place.  ugh.

Today my husband came to me and said he had something to tell me.  The look on his face put me into one of those inside panics where it feels like all my organs are trembling – hate that!  I was thinking ok this is it, he’s going to tell me he cheated on me / lost a bunch of money / is gay / wants a divorce / <enter other Jerry Springer type of marital surprise here>.   I tried to remain calm and listened.

He said he needed me to make an appointment for him at my dentist because he has a tooth that has gone bad and broken, and he can’t take the pain anymore.  Uhh, wha?!  That’s it???

After the panic and relief subsided I listened to him tell me about how this has been going on for about the last two months but he didn’t tell me about it because he knew I’d make him go to the dentist (he was so right).   Apparently, the pain has gotten so bad over the past two days that he had no choice but to fess up, even though he is panic attack type of afraid of the dentist.  Which I can totally understand after my complete meltdown when I had that tooth removed last year.

A little background on his fear… years ago, like 9 years ago when I was first living here with him, he had to have a root canal.  He was TERRIFIED because of generally bad experiences with dentists here in Holland (this is not a rare occurrence here it seems), so I went with him and oh god it was gross.   He survived it though and life went on.

A few years ago he started having pain in that area again and he went to visit the dentist I went to for my first visit years ago, that I hated passionately.  I can’t remember how it all went but there between this dude and the root canal there was two teeth removed.   Then, whatever this dentist did wrong, Xander had to have oral surgery to fix it.

So a lot of pain and a lot of procedures later, he’s not just afraid of the dentist, he’s terrified.  Hence, not telling me about this bad tooth until his head was exploding with pain.

That brings us to today.   Since it’s Sunday I had to call our local huisartsenpost and ask if there was anything they could give him to take the edge off until tomorrow.   Their reply was very helpful.

“We don’t deal with teeth.”

“I KNOW you are not a dentist but you ARE a doctor and you deal with pain, no?”

“No, we don’t deal with anything to do with teeth.”

“ARGH!!!!!”

I got a number from them for the emergency dentist, which I knew I had no hope in hell of getting Xander to go to but I thought maybe I’d get lucky.   Yeah, didn’t get lucky.   The lady who answered the phone was a total bitch and was about as useless as tits on a bull.  When I called and explained the problem she said he could get an appointment at 8:30pm (it was probably around 2pm at this point).  I asked if the dentist who we’d have the appointment with has experience with nervous patients and does he use anything against pain.

Her answer?

“I don’t know anything about that, do you want the appointment or not?”

At that point my choices were to rip her a new one or give the phone to Xander and let him try, so I handed over the phone.  He had no more luck than I did and decided he’d rather wait till tomorrow than risk going to another hack job like he got stuck with a few years ago.  Who can blame him?

So we went off to the mall to see if they might have something a little stronger at one of the drug stores (the drug stores here are different, mind you, they don’t have a pharmacy in them, so you just get the basics).  When we spoke to the lady there she couldn’t believe that they wouldn’t help us at the huisartsenpost and gave us the strongest stuff they had, which she didn’t have a lot of faith in with regard to it helping his problem.

That got our back up a bit after talking to her.  Why the doctors at the huisartsenpost refused to do anything at all.  Hell, we pay insurance, and we pay DEARLY for it.  If we can’t go and get something to make my husband able to sleep for one night (which he didn’t last night apparently), then wtf, I say – WTF?!

We ended up going back and the receptionist tried to blow us off with the ‘we don’t do teeth’ routine again… and after explaining we don’t want anything done with the TOOTH he just wants a bit of pain relief, she grudgingly made the appointment.  Not before telling us that she didn’t think the doctor would do anything to help us though.

We saw one doctor first who sat and gave Xander a bit of a ‘your own fault’ speech because he left it go so long.  Yeah, very helpful indeed.  I think the pain he’s feeling is reminder enough of what a dumbass move that was, he didn’t need her telling him.   Finally, I ended up just cutting them off and telling her that he WAS going to go to the dentist tomorrow whether I have to drag him kicking and screaming and would they PLEASE just give him something until then.

I believe I also mentioned something about if they can’t, can they please give ME something to numb the pain of dealing with him if he doesn’t get something….

She left and made us go back to the waiting room again where another doctor would come for us.   Then we went in and he looked in Xander’s mouth and gave him antibiotics and pain killers, and advice to get to the dentist right away tomorrow.

THANK YOU JESUS!!  It only took us the ENTIRE afternoon.   Never, in my entire LIFE have I ever seen or heard of anyone having to go through so much bullshit just to get a bit of pain relief.   In North America you wouldn’t even NEED to see a doctor, you could buy stuff that would be good enough for that just over the counter… and if you DID contact your doctor, they’d have the prescription written before you even finished explaining the problem.

Now, don’t get me wrong… in a lot of cases I think it’s good that the Dutch aren’t so quick to medicate, but good grief!   I came very close to having one of my famous ‘This FUCKING COUNTRY’ tantrums today, but I didn’t.  Talk about progress!

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I went to the doctor yesterday morning and explained that the dizziness had some back full on, and that I was starting to have cold symptoms as well.  He finally gave me some medication which he said would ease the symptoms, which I thought meant all of them but when I got home it was just dizziness and nausea that it was meant for.   I’ve been taking them 3x a day but I haven’t noticed any difference.

Yesterday I was in bed from 9am – 11am and then again from about 2pm – 8:30pm, mostly because it was the only place I could get warm and comfortable enough.   After I was out of bed for a while I still had no energy at all and felt like my eyes were burning.   I took my temp over time between about 9pm and 10:30pm and it went from 38.8 to 39.4 (which is about 104 F).  Xander started to really worry about that and the fact that I had no voice or energy, so he called the hospital.    They wanted me to go in so they could check me out but I really didn’t want to go.  I hate sitting there waiting and my throat hurt just to BREATHE so I knew that it would really hurt once I was panting coming back up all the stairs to our flat.

He ended up talking me into going and we got in right away, as promised.   The guy looked at my throat and said ‘oh yeah’ like in that… ‘yup, you’re fucked’ kind of way.  He checked my ears and everything else too, which was a nice change from this doctor I’ve been seeing (the husband of the doctor I usually really like, who never seems to be around anymore).   He told me that I have a really bad viral infection and that he can’t give me anything to make it go away but he can give me something to lessen the symptoms.  Yup, heard that before…  but the meds he gave me were aimed at the flu symptoms rather than just the dizziness.   He basically is pumping me full of paracetemol and codeine.   They said it would make me drowsy, which I love because the more time I am sleeping the less time I am awake and feeling like shit.

The doc was saying that this flu is pretty much at epidemic levels here in the Netherlands at the moment, so I don’t feel so bad.   Meaning, I don’t feel like the no immune system loser I felt like yesterday.

Right now my throat is killing me, I have no voice, when I cough all the muscles in my chest and stomach hurt so bad… but I have no fever.   The doc did say to expect the fever to show up in the evenings though.   I really hope tonight isn’t like last night again, that was brutal.

Oh, and I totally gave my cooties to my husband too.   He’s started getting sick last evening and is feeling crappy today too.  Less crappy than I am, but not very nice all the same.

I don’t know what our livingroom looks like with us two invalids on the sofas and the coffee table full of medicines, teacups, and scrunched up tissues.

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