At our first four duty stations, I rarely used the medical services at all. I got pap smears and I think one time I got sick, but that’s about it. I never needed much from our health care system until we started trying to have a baby. And then…boy, did I use my fair share.
We were at Fort Bragg for nearly five years, and I had so many dealings with the people in the fertility clinic that we’re all on a first-name basis. We exchanged email addresses before I left, just to keep in touch! We practically became Facebook friends.
Because I’ve been seeing the same one doctor, one nurse, and one ultrasound tech for my entire ordeal — five miscarriages plus one healthy pregnancy — I can pretty much call the shots now. Once you’ve been around this block so many times, you can keep track of your needs better than the doctor does. So each time I get pregnant now, I call the answering machine and tell the nurse what I need: “Hi, it’s Sarah, I am pregnant again, so I need my HCG level checked tomorrow and Thursday, and then I’ll need an ultrasound sometime after July 3rd. Call me back!” And they call back and set it up. No questions, no runaround, no issues.
But we just PCSed.
I was pregnant before we were moving, and I really thought in my gut it was a healthy pregnancy. I was so relieved that we might have two babies while at Fort Bragg and not have to drag our problems to another installation. We could call our family “complete” and get off this rollercoaster. The timing was perfect: I would have all my hormone level testing and ultrasounds at Bragg, schedule my genetic testing for the week before the movers came, and get the results as we rolled out of town. Then I could arrive at my new duty station as a “normal” pregnant lady just like everyone else, and just have the baby.
But a cruel twist allowed this baby to act like a healthy pregnancy, yet end up as a genetic mess. The baby was not forming, but I still got to be super morning sick, and see a faltering heartbeat on the ultrasound screen for a few weeks, prolonging the agony and confusion.
No dice. Our perfect timing didn’t come to fruition, and instead of happily rolling out of town at the end of my first trimester, I was taking dose after dose of medicines trying to force my body to miscarry a baby who just simply didn’t want to let go.
Which ended in having an emergency D&C two days before the packers came. Fun fun.
Not only was it a medical pain in the neck right during a PCS, it was an emotional blow too. I wanted to have this pregnancy at Fort Bragg, where I felt safe. Where I felt in control of something, anything. I controlled my relationship with my doctor. I called the shots. I knew what I needed and I didn’t have to explain to anyone why I needed it, or why I was high risk, or beg for an appointment with my Primary Care Manager so I could get a referral to someone else blah blah blah. I just called and got seen.
And now I show up at a new post next week and start over from square one. Now I have to lay out my case and explain to people who I am and what a balanced translocation of chromosomes is and why I need weekly ultrasounds in the beginning of my pregnancy and genetic testing and the whole nine yards.
I don’t want to have to explain all of that to new doctors. I want my old doctor who says that I know more about translocations than he does, so I can have whatever I think I need.
I said this two years ago and the post about wasted time still is true:
Fertility problems feels like a great big waste of time regardless of your situation. You spend month after month watching the calendar pages turn with no baby in sight. Then add in the special military twist, the fact that your husband — who’s fairly necessary for the process — is constantly coming and going and not always available on the precise days when you need him for the process, and you turn into a basketcase. Then add in huge chunks of time — chunks longer than the actual gestation time for a baby — when he’s in a war zone on the other side of the planet, and you’re in full-on Crazytown.
Health issues of any kind are stressful and daunting, but I’ve been fortunate enough to have had one doctor through it all. One constant. My husband came and went more times than I can remember, but I kept plugging along with my one doctor. I miscarried three times while my husband was deployed or at schools. I wiped away tears with my doctor as we did a failed round of IUIs. And all of us — the doctor, the nurse, the ultrasound tech, and I — were crushed last month to learn that this pregnancy had ended, that they wouldn’t be able to complete the journey with me. That if I wanted another child, I’d have to go it alone. With a new doctor.
I have to find a new doctor at my next duty station. Hopefully it’s not as stressful as I am imagining it to be. I hope I’m blowing it all out of proportion and it will work out just fine. I’d love it if the next clinic recognizes my issues and lets me call the shots there too.
Those of you who are EFMP, or who have moved in the middle of ongoing medical issues, was it an easy transition for you? Was it hard for you to pick up the same pace of treatments at your new installation? Did your treatment feel seamless or did it feel like you were starting over from square one with the system?
I’m on square seven. I don’t want to go back to square one.
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I wish I could offer some helpful advice, but we are undergoing the same thing… We have been jerked around by tons of doctors telling us that the issues we had noticed in our daughter were "normal". Normal smormal…. We saw tons of different pediatricians, only to have them tell us it was nothing or that she would grow out of it. (She has been vomiting for months, gags at the sight of her bottle, had dropped from 40th percentile in weight to the 5th in 2 months.)
We just finally found a doctor who A. listened long enough to actually hear what I was saying instead of tuning out after hearing I am a first time mom and B. Actually agreed there is an issue. He has been totally on top of everything. Only problem being we are PCSing to Germany (we are currently in VA) AND we are going to stay in CA for a month before we fly over… I know just how you feel, I call and they schedule her an appointment, no questions asked they know us, and I'm already having nightmares about the next two months, and the packers haven't even come yet.
I'm hoping that once we get our doctor, I can give him our current doctor's name and phone number so they can talk about what has been going on… Maybe you would be able to do the same, maybe you could start on square 2.5 then instead of 1. :) *hugs* hope everything turns out well for you!
Good luck to you too. My doc did say he would call if necessary or make referrals on official letterhead. I hope that’s good enough…
(My kid had prolonged vomiting as a baby too, though not as extreme as yours sounds. No one listened to me either…)
One thing that has helped me during out PCS’s with 3 EFM kids and being EFM myself is prior to our PCS, I make a “check-out” appointment with each specialist. At that appointment I ask them to write me a letter explaining where we are in treatment and what steps we had planned to take next. When I reach the new station, I take all the letters in for my first appointment with the new PCM. I give a copy of the letters to him/her and state that these are the specialists I need referrals to and what for. It also helps the specialists to have a snapshot of where we are in treatment at the first visit instead of having to wait for records to catch up with you. I hope this helps. :)
That's a great idea. I already left town, but maybe I'll give the doc a call and ask him to send something.
Allison, I love that idea! Thank you!!!
I've had a similar situation, but not from PCSing, just from the turnover of being seen at a military facility. I had a rare tumor last year, and I need follow-up. I complicated matters by going rogue at a research hospital outside of TriCare (long story there) so getting my records all in one place is a challenge. I was diagnosed when I was pregnant and the doc. I was seeing for the pregnancy handled all the initial referrals. Then I had to go back to my regular PCM. Then, that PCM quit. Then I had to deal with the 'interim PCMs' and just now I finally have a new one. Even though my location hasn't changed it was kind of the same. I know more about the disease than most doctors at this point and I know what I need, but I have to get it explained to each new PCM. Anyway… my telling my story doesn't really offer any helpful advice, so I'll say what I should have in the beginning: I hear you, and I'm so sorry it sucks so much. I'm also so sorry that you had to go through all of that in a new place that was unfamiliar and didn't know your history. I'm sorry you had to go through any of it at all.
Hello everyone, Im a military retiree living in Italy whose friend's son was diagnosed with Autism and placed in the EFMP. She believes its a mis-diagnosis, given after an hour long visit with a specialist her son had never seen before. Ive been on-line for hours trying to find out info for her and hopefully u folks can help. 1) Is EFMP mandatory or can military member or spouse refuse enrollment? 2) Her husband is now on an unaccompanied tour leaving her behind to deal with a re-evaluation which she cant seem to get as there is some waiting period that noone can give her a regulation explaining it…is there a reg or instruction? or waiting period? 3) Once enrolled, is there a list of bases-posts-stations which can handle EFMP needs-situations?
and to Sarah, I can only offer encouragement that u r not alone. I too had two very complicated pregnancies (placenta previa-bed rest in the hospital from 5 months until early birth at 35 weeks & then hypertesion issues-hospitalization after 42 weeks of pregancy–wouldnt leave the womb–and 24 hours of in-hospital induced labor with no luck–emergency C-section followed. All this after a mis-carriage and similar situation DNC later (in order to return home with my unit after completing my mission abroad). All I can say is the four year wait-complications were well worth it. Good luck