A decision is acted upon.
Sep. 16th, 2004 10:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flexagonSo... yesterday I talked a doctor into sterilizing me. On my first try, no less!
He did make me debate for my life, mostly to be sure I was serious and another option would not give me what I was looking for. Very early in the conversation he said "Look, I'm not here to tell you what to do... but then again I kind of am." That was good to hear, actually, because it's true and I'd rather deal with someone straightforward.
The doctor was also pretty savvy about the idea of being childfree (which, to give him credit, he never did try to talk me out of. All he ever wanted was to make sure I made a decision I wouldn't regret).
Doctor: I know the group you're a part of has been emotionally persecuted. I know that if you were in here telling me you had three kids I'd nod and smile...
Me: Or if I wanted to get pregnant you wouldn't be like, that's an irreversible life decision that you could easily regret! Are you SURE?
Doctor: Right.
He also brought up the regret possibility, and how some people, even people who had kids, can feel a lot of regret over making such a final decision.
Me: Yes, that's true. Did you know that there's a higher incidence of sterilization regret among people who are parents already than among people who've never had a kid to begin with?
Doctor: I'm not surprised to hear that...
Me: Because if you don't know what you're missing, you never miss it...
Doctor: Which is okay, you don't have to know...
Me: And I don't mind missing it.
Most of the conversation stayed right where I thought it would, though, which was the suggestion of getting a few IUDs over the next 20 years instead of getting sterilized. They have, apparently, gotten much better, and would have the advantage of giving me a lighter period since the new ones have a little progesterone in them. And they need to be replaced every 5 years. I have to admit this doesn't sound too bad--and statistically, IUD users are apparently the happiest of all birth control recipients, because they don't have sterilization regret and they don't have the messiness of barrier methods or the hormonal side effects of the Pill. All well and good, and if the Essure implantation were to fail I wouldn't mind all that so much... but they increase spotting and they aren't permanent and I myself was conceived right after my mother got an IUD, which means I'd be feeling for that damn string 10 times a day and... I want to do something once, just once, and have there be nothing anyone could ever do, ever, to make me have a child against my will. I got rather intense on all that at the end of the conversation, and the doctor just said "well, in that case the IUD really wouldn't give you the peace of mind we want you to have, so we'd better do the Essure. So. When's the last time you had a period?" I sat back, blinking and victorious.
Other things I did that may have helped:
* I told him I was a happy egg donor, loved having passed on my genes, but found most aspects of parenthood unappealing.
* I pointed out that there are lots of ways I could still have kids after this. IVF springs right to mind, and so does donating eggs one more time but raising the child myself. A much better option is adoption. This isn't, in my mind, really cutting me off from the option of having kids, and I said so. It isn't quite the same, said the doctor, and I said I know! The whole idea here is for it not to be the same. Childbirth is just not on my list of things to do. He had to laugh.
* Assured him that my husband was on the same page with me, and in fact had been consulted regarding the issue on our second date.
What didn't help:
* Admitting my thought that if I got sterilized I could tell people so--too late, it's all over, nyah nyah--and this would finally convince them. The doctor didn't think others should be part of the decision at all, and thought I should work things out verbally. As if, if words would convince anyone, they wouldn't have! I have been clear with everyone. Sigh.
When he asked me about my period, I told him I was bleeding merrily away as we spoke. Not in those words, it's true. Well, said the doctor, it's best to do it a week after a period, so that would be next week, or else a month from then. Next week, I chirped with eyes wide open, I could get a day off next week! So I took out my tampon, and put on a flimsy gown, and waited in one of those little exam rooms. As I sprawled there willing my heart rate to go down so my blood pressure wouldn't be through the roof, Tears for Fears came on the radio.
Welcome to your life... there's no turning back... My incredulous laughter drowned out the next line, and then we will find you acting on your best behavior, turn your back on Mother Nature...
Goddamn. Do they do that to everyone? Do they do it on purpose? Nah, I'm sure it was coincidence, but it sure was appropriate. :)
The exam was anticlimactic--they lubed up some gloves, poked and prodded enough to be sure I had both ovaries and wasn't about to fall over dead, and said they'd most likely want me back in for the procedure next Thursday. Maybe Wednesday. They'll call. And... yes, my glorious expensive insurance will indeed pay for it.
W000000000t! I feel pressure lifting from my mind already. I never did admit to the doctor that I've been missing more and more pills and it's starting to scare me.
He did make me debate for my life, mostly to be sure I was serious and another option would not give me what I was looking for. Very early in the conversation he said "Look, I'm not here to tell you what to do... but then again I kind of am." That was good to hear, actually, because it's true and I'd rather deal with someone straightforward.
The doctor was also pretty savvy about the idea of being childfree (which, to give him credit, he never did try to talk me out of. All he ever wanted was to make sure I made a decision I wouldn't regret).
Doctor: I know the group you're a part of has been emotionally persecuted. I know that if you were in here telling me you had three kids I'd nod and smile...
Me: Or if I wanted to get pregnant you wouldn't be like, that's an irreversible life decision that you could easily regret! Are you SURE?
Doctor: Right.
He also brought up the regret possibility, and how some people, even people who had kids, can feel a lot of regret over making such a final decision.
Me: Yes, that's true. Did you know that there's a higher incidence of sterilization regret among people who are parents already than among people who've never had a kid to begin with?
Doctor: I'm not surprised to hear that...
Me: Because if you don't know what you're missing, you never miss it...
Doctor: Which is okay, you don't have to know...
Me: And I don't mind missing it.
Most of the conversation stayed right where I thought it would, though, which was the suggestion of getting a few IUDs over the next 20 years instead of getting sterilized. They have, apparently, gotten much better, and would have the advantage of giving me a lighter period since the new ones have a little progesterone in them. And they need to be replaced every 5 years. I have to admit this doesn't sound too bad--and statistically, IUD users are apparently the happiest of all birth control recipients, because they don't have sterilization regret and they don't have the messiness of barrier methods or the hormonal side effects of the Pill. All well and good, and if the Essure implantation were to fail I wouldn't mind all that so much... but they increase spotting and they aren't permanent and I myself was conceived right after my mother got an IUD, which means I'd be feeling for that damn string 10 times a day and... I want to do something once, just once, and have there be nothing anyone could ever do, ever, to make me have a child against my will. I got rather intense on all that at the end of the conversation, and the doctor just said "well, in that case the IUD really wouldn't give you the peace of mind we want you to have, so we'd better do the Essure. So. When's the last time you had a period?" I sat back, blinking and victorious.
Other things I did that may have helped:
* I told him I was a happy egg donor, loved having passed on my genes, but found most aspects of parenthood unappealing.
* I pointed out that there are lots of ways I could still have kids after this. IVF springs right to mind, and so does donating eggs one more time but raising the child myself. A much better option is adoption. This isn't, in my mind, really cutting me off from the option of having kids, and I said so. It isn't quite the same, said the doctor, and I said I know! The whole idea here is for it not to be the same. Childbirth is just not on my list of things to do. He had to laugh.
* Assured him that my husband was on the same page with me, and in fact had been consulted regarding the issue on our second date.
What didn't help:
* Admitting my thought that if I got sterilized I could tell people so--too late, it's all over, nyah nyah--and this would finally convince them. The doctor didn't think others should be part of the decision at all, and thought I should work things out verbally. As if, if words would convince anyone, they wouldn't have! I have been clear with everyone. Sigh.
When he asked me about my period, I told him I was bleeding merrily away as we spoke. Not in those words, it's true. Well, said the doctor, it's best to do it a week after a period, so that would be next week, or else a month from then. Next week, I chirped with eyes wide open, I could get a day off next week! So I took out my tampon, and put on a flimsy gown, and waited in one of those little exam rooms. As I sprawled there willing my heart rate to go down so my blood pressure wouldn't be through the roof, Tears for Fears came on the radio.
Welcome to your life... there's no turning back... My incredulous laughter drowned out the next line, and then we will find you acting on your best behavior, turn your back on Mother Nature...
Goddamn. Do they do that to everyone? Do they do it on purpose? Nah, I'm sure it was coincidence, but it sure was appropriate. :)
The exam was anticlimactic--they lubed up some gloves, poked and prodded enough to be sure I had both ovaries and wasn't about to fall over dead, and said they'd most likely want me back in for the procedure next Thursday. Maybe Wednesday. They'll call. And... yes, my glorious expensive insurance will indeed pay for it.
W000000000t! I feel pressure lifting from my mind already. I never did admit to the doctor that I've been missing more and more pills and it's starting to scare me.
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no subject
Date: 2004-09-17 10:08 am (UTC)Congrats chica :)
no subject
Date: 2004-09-17 12:34 pm (UTC)Flexy, congrats on winning the battle so quickly!
no subject
Date: 2004-09-17 04:59 pm (UTC)