January 05, 2012


I had a D&C today.  I took the meds last week and they didn't work.

Back in 2008, when I had my second miscarriage, the doctor I saw at the military hospital counseled me on my options.  He told me that I could have another D&C but that it would "cost the taxpayers a lot of money," so might I consider taking the meds instead.

But death panels will never happen, right?  Heh.

Truthfully, his comment didn't really bother me that much because, heck, I'm the queen of trying to save the taxpayers money.  I have bought my own prenantal vitamins for the past five years.  I diligently washed every piece of plastic and metal in Germany not because I care at all about recycling but because I learned that the US government pays the country of Germany by the pound to dispose of our refuse.

And I have taken cytotec in my own home for every miscarriage since the first one, to try to save the taxpayers money.

Which is funny because, the more I think about it now, I don't really think I was saving any money at our last installation.  Follow me here on this one: the doctors on post are military personnel, which means they draw a base pay.  They don't get paid per procedure.  The doc himself doesn't get paid more to do a D&C instead of me taking the meds; the only thing that gets taken up is time.  Time is the money in the military health care system.  If I have a D&C, I take up a surgery time slot for that day.  Maybe the doc would do a different surgery.  Maybe he would do something else during that time instead if there was nothing scheduled that day.  But he would still be there at work and he would still just draw his base pay like every other soldier.  Yes, there's money being spent for the upkeep of the hospital and the anesthesia has to be paid for and so on, and I don't doubt that a D&C is just empirically more expensive than ten little pills in the comfort of your own home (i.e. lying on your back on the bathroom tile), but in some sense, it was no skin off the Army hospital's neck if I had to have a D&C.  In fact, the place was straight-up dead over the summer when I had my second one; they said doctors PCS at that time and there's nothing elective scheduled for those months, so I was the only person in there.

Anyway, I am rambling.

But now that we live elsewhere, we go to a civilian doctor.  That means the taxpayers actually do have to pay the going rate to a doctor for whatever medical choices I make.

And I do think about it.  A lot.

My husband couldn't believe that a major reason I was balking on the D&C was because of money.  Not my money; we won't have to pay for it.  But somebody has to.  And if I can save us all some collective dollars by writhing at home instead of being sterile and warm in a hospital, then I have tried to do my part for the economy.

But it doesn't seem to be working anymore.

The last time, two rounds of the meds didn't work.  This time one round did nothing at all.  My doc confirmed that there were no signs whatsoever that I looked like I was close to miscarrying.  Lump baby was hanging on as tight as JaMarcus.

So I think I'm going to start having to waste more of your and my precious tax dollars in the future and skip right to the D&Cs.

I tried.  But we're gonna have to fix the economy starting somewhere other than my uterus, I guess.

Posted by: Sarah at 04:23 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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