Thursday, December 2, 2010

A Letter to Mountain View Ob/Gyn...

To the physicians, nurses, and staff of Mountain View Ob/Gyn:

On November 29, 2010 at 1:00pm, I came into your office for a routine obstetrics visit.  At just over eleven weeks pregnant, I was very excited to soon be moving into my second trimester.  When my nurse was unable to hear a fetal heartbeat, I was sent over to Hanover Hospital for an ultrasound.  At the hospital, I was given the most painful internal ultrasound that I have ever experienced.  The technician was so rough and inconsiderate, I felt as though I had been violated.  After I regained my composure and had gotten dressed, I was told that Dr. Neiswinder was on the phone for me.  Over the phone, in the ultrasound room, Dr. Neiswinder informed me that I had a missed miscarriage, that my baby had no heartbeat.  She told me to come back over to the office, to discuss our options.

My husband and I drove back over to the Mountain View office, for the second time that day.  When I arrived, I was told that there was no room available for me, and that we would have to wait.  We waited in the weight/blood pressure room for twenty minutes, before we were taken to an exam room.  It was there that Dr. Neiswinder discussed our options, and I chose the surgical option, which would take place the following morning.  She said that scheduling and paperwork needed to be done, and but that we could not stay in the exam room.  We were moved again to the "Video Room," a tiny room that looked as though it also served as a utility closet.  Only one metal chair could fit into the small room, so my husband had to stand.  After another twenty minutes, a nurse finally arrived, but only to move us again.  We were finally placed in a slightly bigger Video Room (this one had two chairs), where we waited with no privacy.  For over thirty minutes, I sat in the room, while nurses came in and out to get things that they needed.  I listened, as the nurse on the other side of the thin wall made calls to schedule my surgery and loudly complained to her coworkers about the large amount of paperwork that I required.  She then came into the room, apologized for my wait, and explained, "I have to do double the paperwork, because there's another patient here, like you."  When all of the forms were signed and dated, she informed me that I had to go back to Hanover Hospital, immediately, for my pre-admission workup, which I did.

On November 29, 2010 at 1:00pm, I came into your office for a routine obstetrics visit, and learned that my baby had no heartbeat.  And at 6:00pm that evening, I was finally able to sit down at home, exhausted, and weep in mourning for the loss of my unborn child.  It took five hours to diagnose me with a missed miscarriage, and arrange my D&C.  Almost two hours of that time was spent waiting, in your office, juggled from one room to the next.  Over a half an hour was spent traveling back and forth from the hospital to your office.  I was made to feel as though there was no longer a place for me at your practice, because I was no longer pregnant.

I am writing this letter, because I think you need to hear the perspective of one of your patients.  I think it is clear that due to the high volume of cases you see everyday, your staff has become desensitized to the emotions and humanity of your patients.  When explaining my procedure, Dr. Neiswinder told my husband and I that "the clump of tissue would be removed" from my uterus and discarded.  To us, it was not a "clump of tissue."  It was a baby... our baby, that I was going to nurse, and rock and love.  It was our baby, that we had begun to prepare a room for.  It was our baby, that we thought was alive and well, until earlier that afternoon.  When the nurse told me that there was "another like me," my heart ached for the fellow mother.  I wondered if she, too, had been shuffled from room to room, sitting alone in her sadness, staring at a blank wall.  I am certain, in all your years of service, we were not your first miscarriages.

I write this letter with a suggestion.  Perhaps, somewhere in your office, you could have a "Grieving Room."  It could be a room with a couch, flowers, soft music, and a box of tissues (which I was never offered).  It could be a place for "patients like me" to wait for options, for scheduling, and for paperwork, in private, able to grieve and mourn as they need.  It could be a place that would provide comfort in the saddest of times.

I would like to say, how much I appreciated the work of Dr. Naymick, who performed my surgery the following morning.  The warmth that he showed my family and I was the first sign of compassion that I had received from your office, since my ordeal unfolded.  I am eternally grateful to him, for that.  The staff in the Same Day Surgery ward at Hanover Hospital were kind and supportive, as well.

I beg of you all, at Mountain View Ob/Gyn, to open your eyes and hearts to the tragedies that your patients face, and treat them accordingly.

Thank you,
Anna Corbin