Georg-ado

I knew it couldn’t last forever.  You know what I mean; the glorious, cushioned world in which nobody bats an eye at your gay wife and nobody says anything that would make you feel anything less than overjoyed at having a baby.  It’s okay.  If you want to go beat him up for me, go ahead.

She’s 14 weeks and, despite having just had the ultrasound, we were in for our regular appointment today.  We knew weren’t seeing our fun, happy, pregnant (and some, ahem, say hot) doctor today but instead we’ve started our long slow rotation through the rest of the practice.  There are six other doctors and we get to see all of them before delivery which, great but also, sooo many more chances for someone to say something wrong.

Okay, I’m a little sensitive, I know.  And we did pick this practice for that very reason (if, by pick, you mean charged headlong into because we still haven’t got any idea what we’re doing) but it’s a bit nerve-wracking every time.  I expect the best of people though, and generally, they oblige.

Today, we got a doctor straight out of the 80s.  He looked just like a cross between George Hamilton:

and Ricardo Mantalban:

No, seriously.  And he blustered in, all shiny smile and perfectly coiffed hair and said, “Who’s Debra?”***  And just there, I didn’t like him.  Look here, Dr. Georgardo, the woman ON THE TABLE is likely to be the pregnant one.  We are not indistinguishable.  She looks pregnant!  And she’s sitting on that damn crinkly paper!  I am here, IN THE CHAIR.  (As an aside, have you seen that Eddie Izzard clip where he speaks in French about the monkey being on the branch and even if you don’t know French it’s understandable and funny?  Well, I think it is.)

He redeemed a very few points by being equally as friendly to me.  Look, I’m tolerable of some personality flaws sometimes.  So he gets a pass on this one.  Then he spent some time reminding us about eating well and exercising and being healthy.  And that sounds all right doesn’t it?  All right BUT FOR THE TONE.  Look people, larger sizes (and here we’re not even talking much larger) do not mean unhealthy.  What would it take to understand that?  Not all people bigger than a supermodel sit around on the couch, stuffing Cheetos into their mouths and practicing for their first heart attack.  They. Do. Not. Many of them are fit, active and healthy.  Because size is not the single measure of health.  Well, now that I’ve gone on about that, you can see why I might have taken his words in a less than flattering light.

I wanted to give him a good shake and say, “She has lost 10 lbs.  She has not gained one ounce in 3 and a half months.  Give us the benefit of the doubt!”  It is unreasonable to assume that she is not eating fruits and vegetable and conducting life in a generally healthy manner.  Good lord, Georgardo!  Cut us some slack!  D for her part, did not seem at all put out by the conversation and obligingly laid down to get the heartbeat.  I thought, this is a highlight of the visit and Georgardo cannot spoil it!

Oh but he tried.  First, he said, “I’m going to need to get in right around your hairline”  And I thought, why does he need to be looking at her scalp?  DOESN’T HE KNOW WHERE BABIES COME FROM?  Oh, that hairline.  Look, we all know where the baby is – well, except possibly you – so let’s not be cutesy about it.  Then, he spent an inordinate amount of time listening in the wrong place.  Then, he muttered and fluttered about with a tone.  HE HAD A TONE.  His tone implied that he couldn’t get to the heartbeat because of her.  Her breakfast maybe, or some other ridiculous reason.  But in the end, he was just about 3 inches and one directional change away from Vegas.  Even Vegas was thinking, “Dude, come on, if you were a pirate, you’d have run us into a reef by now.”  Look, Vegas is just like that.

The heartbeat was lovely and slower than last time but perfectly normal (thanks, kid).  Our chromosomal testing came back normal as well.  We’re delighted to still have a completely average baby.  More importantly, we’re spared Dr. Georgardo for the time being since we’re rotating on to the next fellow in January.  January – can you believe it’s only another six months?

***Debra is her actual name.  Mine is Meridith.  Now that we’re out and about to all and sundry (like how I just slammed those two completely useless sayings together there?) we don’t mind flaunting our names to the world.  Still though, I’m too lazy to type things out, so you’ll probably still see our initials more often than not.

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One Response

  1. Man. A tone. I hate that. Sounds like you managed to pull the good out of it. Hooray on the good news!

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