Chapter 6
Prenatal Paranoia and Canadian Healthcare
I used to be one of those people who think they know more than their doctor. I self-medicate and generally don’t care that much about my health. I believe in fate – meaning whatever happens happens for the best, and I know what should happen and what that ‘best’ is. Pregnancy had changed all that. I changed my entire stock of make up, shampoo, soap, etc to comply with most stringent baby-friendly standards. It is all organic and chemical free. My food is organic and painfully healthy. I am suspicious of anything that I put on my skin or into my mouth. In short, I was hit by a prenatal paranoia.
Getting sick does not help to improve that state of mind. Unfortunately, since I wrote the previous chapter I had gotten another cold. This time it was my dear husband who gave it to me. To be fair there is a possibility that we pick it up together. Anyhow, the fact is that I became sick approximately 12 hours after him. Two days later he started his course of antibiotics and in another week was absolutely fine. In two days I was not able to speak at all. I went to our family doctor hoping that, looking at just how sick I am, he might suggest more efficient medication then tea with lemon and honey. I was wrong. Once again I was recommended to have lots of fluid and stay at home. With that advice I spend following five days watching “Decorating Challenge” on TV. It took another two weeks and a miracle for me to recover.
If getting a cold was not bad enough, I managed to cut my finger on the first day of this involuntary confinement. The kitchen knife went through the half of the nail leaving me with the stream of blood and unfinished dinner. Not being able to stop blood I called my husband to work (lucking it happened at the end of his work day) and asked him to come home. By the time he was back (in record time) the blood stopped. Now I was faced with another question – what could I do to prevent the infection? The cut was deep and the knife was dirty. Normally this question would be solved by applying mild topical antibiotic – option not recommended in pregnancy. A topical antibiotic is still an antibiotic. My husband returned from the pharmacy with the peroxide and medical band-aid. My finger was cleaned and bandaged. The only thing left was to pray.
Two days later my finger was red and swollen. It also was hurting. It also was a Saturday evening. My paranoia hit the roof and I decided to use a heavily advertised service provided by the government of Ontario “Telehealth Ontario”. This service supposedly provides easy 24-hour access to a registered nurse. “When you have a general health question and nowhere to turn, call Telehealth Ontario. Within minutes your questions will be answered, providing you with peace of mind”. Still believing that the government might do some good, I decided to try. I really wanted to know whether there is any over-the-counter cream or medication I can use NOW and if there is any antibiotic I would be able to take if I my finger becomes infected.
Few minutes later I was awarded with classical music and ever-present “Thank you for holding. Your call is important to us ...". In about five minutes another robot-like voice piped in. It took me few minutes to understand that it was not a computer but a real person asking me why I am calling and whether I want to hold. I was not allowed to explain anything. After I told that I cut my finger TWO DAYS prior, I got a mini-lecture that if it becomes an emergency while I wait on the phone for the nurse, I should call 911. Immediately after I was back to the classical music appreciation class somewhat spoiled by “your call is important to us ...”.
It only took me 40-45 minutes waiting before the nurse picked up. Very efficiently she went through the series of questions that probably would not have given her enough understanding of how bad my finger is but would surely held up in court in case of litigation. What could I say? It is red and swollen and it hurts. I was not given an opportunity to ask any questions or even to say anything outside of the prescribed questionnaire. My attempt to make a comment was interrupted by the stern – “I need to ask all questions to advise an appropriate course of action”. At the end of a five-minute questioning, I was told to put warm compress for 20 minutes few times a day and go to the doctor. I was also asked what I would have done if I did not call the Telehealth Ontario. I was sorely tempted to tell something about praying for the miracle, but instead I just told that I would have waited till Monday and went to my family doctor. I was dutifully told to a walk-in clinic on Sunday. I hung up leaving the nurse feeling proud of the duty well done and myself reeling from the idiocy of the system. I don’t blame the nurse. They are trained to assume that the patient is an idiot who requires to be told what to do and is incapable of asking intelligent questions. A pharmacist in a 24-hour drug store can give a more useful and appropriate advice.
6-months pregnant, barely speaking with the sore throat I had waited 45 minutes only not to be allowed to ask one question and to be told that I should see a doctor. I could not have guessed myself! Obviously, I did not go to search for a walk-in clinic the next day. I spent it in bed nursing my cold. By Monday the redness started decreasing and in another few days the finger was all right.
Now, the reason I did not go to see my family doctor right away was because I feel like I am seeing his twice a week. I’ll give you the timeline: on Saturday I had a pregnancy check up; on Thursday morning I went to see him with my sore throat; on Thursday evening I cut my finger. I just really did not feel like going to the doctor AGAIN. Instead I tried to seek an alternative. Silly me. Every encounter with Canadian Healthcare systems strengthens my belief that I am the best judge of my health and the best personal doctor.
In the middle of all this mess the baby started kicking in a rather strange way. She would kick for three days in a row, non-stop, and then she would stop and would not kick at all for a day and a half. After the full day of no kicks, I would spend a night not sleeping and trying to drink some juice and count movements. By the time I am ready to have a complete nervous breakdown she would start kicking. In another two-three days the story would be repeated. After I complained to my family doctor he send me to the ultrasound. In Canada you cannot just go and get an ultrasound even if you agree to pay for it. It has to be prescribed as not to waste the government resources. Stinks of socialism, isn’t it? Another timeline: I got the prescription for the ultrasound on Saturday. The Laboratory is closed on weekends. On Monday I called to make an appointment. The nearest available timeslot was on Thursday. So, in case of emergency I would have to wait for 5 days to have an ultrasound.
It is not all. The ultrasound is done not by a doctor but by a nurse. The previous two ultrasounds were done by Russian lab technicians/nurses. I suspect they were doctors in Russian who had a hard time trying to deal with Canadian bureaucratic system of licensing for foreign doctors. They both were extremely nice; showed and explained everything on the screen. This time I got a Canadian nurse. Now, I am a paranoid expectant mother who is sent for ultrasound because her baby is not moving properly. I want some reassurance that my baby is ok. What do I get? A declaration that the nurse is there to make pictures and the rest I can read in the report the radiologist will write. How should I interpret that? She also refused to check if our baby is a girl or a boy. Instead of being reassured I am still waiting to see my family doctor and find out if there is anything wrong. On a positive note, my little baby has been kicking without major interruptions. I can only hope she is fine, but I feel extremely sorry about wasted opportunity to find out more about my baby.
Prenatal Paranoia and Canadian Healthcare
I used to be one of those people who think they know more than their doctor. I self-medicate and generally don’t care that much about my health. I believe in fate – meaning whatever happens happens for the best, and I know what should happen and what that ‘best’ is. Pregnancy had changed all that. I changed my entire stock of make up, shampoo, soap, etc to comply with most stringent baby-friendly standards. It is all organic and chemical free. My food is organic and painfully healthy. I am suspicious of anything that I put on my skin or into my mouth. In short, I was hit by a prenatal paranoia.
Getting sick does not help to improve that state of mind. Unfortunately, since I wrote the previous chapter I had gotten another cold. This time it was my dear husband who gave it to me. To be fair there is a possibility that we pick it up together. Anyhow, the fact is that I became sick approximately 12 hours after him. Two days later he started his course of antibiotics and in another week was absolutely fine. In two days I was not able to speak at all. I went to our family doctor hoping that, looking at just how sick I am, he might suggest more efficient medication then tea with lemon and honey. I was wrong. Once again I was recommended to have lots of fluid and stay at home. With that advice I spend following five days watching “Decorating Challenge” on TV. It took another two weeks and a miracle for me to recover.
If getting a cold was not bad enough, I managed to cut my finger on the first day of this involuntary confinement. The kitchen knife went through the half of the nail leaving me with the stream of blood and unfinished dinner. Not being able to stop blood I called my husband to work (lucking it happened at the end of his work day) and asked him to come home. By the time he was back (in record time) the blood stopped. Now I was faced with another question – what could I do to prevent the infection? The cut was deep and the knife was dirty. Normally this question would be solved by applying mild topical antibiotic – option not recommended in pregnancy. A topical antibiotic is still an antibiotic. My husband returned from the pharmacy with the peroxide and medical band-aid. My finger was cleaned and bandaged. The only thing left was to pray.
Two days later my finger was red and swollen. It also was hurting. It also was a Saturday evening. My paranoia hit the roof and I decided to use a heavily advertised service provided by the government of Ontario “Telehealth Ontario”. This service supposedly provides easy 24-hour access to a registered nurse. “When you have a general health question and nowhere to turn, call Telehealth Ontario. Within minutes your questions will be answered, providing you with peace of mind”. Still believing that the government might do some good, I decided to try. I really wanted to know whether there is any over-the-counter cream or medication I can use NOW and if there is any antibiotic I would be able to take if I my finger becomes infected.
Few minutes later I was awarded with classical music and ever-present “Thank you for holding. Your call is important to us ...". In about five minutes another robot-like voice piped in. It took me few minutes to understand that it was not a computer but a real person asking me why I am calling and whether I want to hold. I was not allowed to explain anything. After I told that I cut my finger TWO DAYS prior, I got a mini-lecture that if it becomes an emergency while I wait on the phone for the nurse, I should call 911. Immediately after I was back to the classical music appreciation class somewhat spoiled by “your call is important to us ...”.
It only took me 40-45 minutes waiting before the nurse picked up. Very efficiently she went through the series of questions that probably would not have given her enough understanding of how bad my finger is but would surely held up in court in case of litigation. What could I say? It is red and swollen and it hurts. I was not given an opportunity to ask any questions or even to say anything outside of the prescribed questionnaire. My attempt to make a comment was interrupted by the stern – “I need to ask all questions to advise an appropriate course of action”. At the end of a five-minute questioning, I was told to put warm compress for 20 minutes few times a day and go to the doctor. I was also asked what I would have done if I did not call the Telehealth Ontario. I was sorely tempted to tell something about praying for the miracle, but instead I just told that I would have waited till Monday and went to my family doctor. I was dutifully told to a walk-in clinic on Sunday. I hung up leaving the nurse feeling proud of the duty well done and myself reeling from the idiocy of the system. I don’t blame the nurse. They are trained to assume that the patient is an idiot who requires to be told what to do and is incapable of asking intelligent questions. A pharmacist in a 24-hour drug store can give a more useful and appropriate advice.
6-months pregnant, barely speaking with the sore throat I had waited 45 minutes only not to be allowed to ask one question and to be told that I should see a doctor. I could not have guessed myself! Obviously, I did not go to search for a walk-in clinic the next day. I spent it in bed nursing my cold. By Monday the redness started decreasing and in another few days the finger was all right.
Now, the reason I did not go to see my family doctor right away was because I feel like I am seeing his twice a week. I’ll give you the timeline: on Saturday I had a pregnancy check up; on Thursday morning I went to see him with my sore throat; on Thursday evening I cut my finger. I just really did not feel like going to the doctor AGAIN. Instead I tried to seek an alternative. Silly me. Every encounter with Canadian Healthcare systems strengthens my belief that I am the best judge of my health and the best personal doctor.
In the middle of all this mess the baby started kicking in a rather strange way. She would kick for three days in a row, non-stop, and then she would stop and would not kick at all for a day and a half. After the full day of no kicks, I would spend a night not sleeping and trying to drink some juice and count movements. By the time I am ready to have a complete nervous breakdown she would start kicking. In another two-three days the story would be repeated. After I complained to my family doctor he send me to the ultrasound. In Canada you cannot just go and get an ultrasound even if you agree to pay for it. It has to be prescribed as not to waste the government resources. Stinks of socialism, isn’t it? Another timeline: I got the prescription for the ultrasound on Saturday. The Laboratory is closed on weekends. On Monday I called to make an appointment. The nearest available timeslot was on Thursday. So, in case of emergency I would have to wait for 5 days to have an ultrasound.
It is not all. The ultrasound is done not by a doctor but by a nurse. The previous two ultrasounds were done by Russian lab technicians/nurses. I suspect they were doctors in Russian who had a hard time trying to deal with Canadian bureaucratic system of licensing for foreign doctors. They both were extremely nice; showed and explained everything on the screen. This time I got a Canadian nurse. Now, I am a paranoid expectant mother who is sent for ultrasound because her baby is not moving properly. I want some reassurance that my baby is ok. What do I get? A declaration that the nurse is there to make pictures and the rest I can read in the report the radiologist will write. How should I interpret that? She also refused to check if our baby is a girl or a boy. Instead of being reassured I am still waiting to see my family doctor and find out if there is anything wrong. On a positive note, my little baby has been kicking without major interruptions. I can only hope she is fine, but I feel extremely sorry about wasted opportunity to find out more about my baby.
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