Fax Machine Patrol

As I mentioned a few posts ago, I'm seeing a fertility doctor this month.  This new guy is supposed to be the guru for helping to get people knocked up.  It's a decision that took me a while to come to, mostly because this "trying" stuff has been so hard.  Add this embarrassing gem to the mix.

You see, I had to call my OBGYN's office to have my records sent over to the new office.  No sense repeating a pap smear when I don't have to, right?

Then, I made one dumb ass decision that robbed me of my sanity for six hours.

When I called the office after school, the interchange with the receptionist went like this:

Receptionist:  "Most patients want a copy of their records as well, just in case you decide to see a third doctor. 

Me:  Oh, that seems smart.

Receptionist: Yes, and we charge you if we have to send the records out more than once, so it's just smart to have a copy. Do you want me to send them to you?"

Me (not thinking):  Sure! 

Then, I did something very dumb... I gave her my school's fax number.

I immediately ran downstairs and waited by the fax machine.  For twenty minutes.  No report.  Cell phone in pocket, I tried to call the office to see if she could send it now.  Straight to voicemail.

  It slowly dawned on me... She might send those records out at any time.  Meaning, if I somehow am not right by the fax machine to grab the reports, someone else might accidentally pick them up instead!  The gym teacher might come by and read my pap smear information!   The math teacher whose asked me several times about "when are you guys going to have kids?" could grab these and puzzle over when we started "trying"!! 

I think I started hyperventilating when I pictured my principal reading notes written by my OBGYN, like her recommendation to put my legs up.

  Holyhell&*$(#*#(@**can't believe I did that!

   So what did I do?  I stood by that fax machine for two hours.  People kept walking by, asking, "Waiting for something, Christen?" and commenting, "Don't stay here too late!" 

Uh huh, I'll try.

I constantly called the office to try desperately to get in touch with the receptionist. 

I left messages like, "Hi, this is Christen, patient of Dr. RushesMeOutOfHerOffice **not real name**, calling again.  Could you hold off on sending those results?"

and then...

"Hi, this is Christen again.  Could you please call me to let me know you received my other two voicemails??"

and then...

 "HI, THIS IS CHRISTEN CALLING AGAIN.  PLEASE DON'T SEND THOSE RESULTS!!  I'M KIND OF A PRIVATE PERSON AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT I WAS THINKING AND I'LL SEND A FRUIT BASKET... AND A BOTTLE OF WINE... AND GIVE YOUR KID FREE TUTORING SESSIONS IF YOU JUST DON'T SEND THEM TO MY PLACE OF WORK BECAUSE I REALLY DON'T WANT THE HOME EC TEACHER SEEING THAT I ASKED IF IT WAS BETTER TO HAVE SEX EVERY DAY OR TO SAVE UP DAN'S SWIMMERS!!"

I guess the receptionist is about attentive as my OBGYN because she must have left at 3:30 that day... or maybe just wanted to mind eff with me.  I never heard from her.  The fax machine just blinked at me for two hours.

The next morning, the school secretary chirped, "You're here early today, Christen!" when I arrived an hour and a half before the school day starts. 

"Just trying to get a jump start on my day," I smiled back, while thinking, Fax machine! fax machine!  I hope I'm first to the fax machine!  Maybe  she sent them last night??"

Blinking machine.  No report.

It wasn't until three hours later during my planning when I frantically called again that I was able to exhale.

Receptionist:  "Oh, hi!  I got your message yesterday.  I'll just send the results to the new doctor.  Sorry I never had a chance to call you back."

Bitch, you can forget about that fruit basket.