When we were in the trenches fighting to get our E., I was grateful, over and over again, that we lived in a big city in Canada. Sure, we spent an awful lot of our own money on infertility treatments, but I knew that there was so much more that was covered under our provincial healthcare: my laparoscopy, E.’s labour and delivery, the D&C after we lost pregnancy #2, the referrals to an endocrinologist to monitor my thyroid, etc. etc.
And because we were in a big city, I knew I was getting the best possible care. I had problems with Dr. L., certainly, but I never doubted that I was at an exceptional clinic.
Now I have reason to be grateful all over again.
I have an appointment on Wednesday, at one of the best hospitals in the province, for an ultrasound and then a meeting with a genetics counselor.
I have an appointment on Thursday, at another of the best hospitals in the province, for an ultrasound and then a meeting with a maternal fetal medicine specialist.
A week after the anatomy scan, we have appointments with specialists, who will be among the best in the world, to help us get answers and help us chart our way forward in this pregnancy. We have not had to wait. And we will never see a bill.
(Incidentally, my situation also illustrates the major weakness in our system: lack of communication. Both hospitals have decided they want to do their own ultrasound rather than rely on the original anatomy scan and the radiologist’s report, which is fine. But it’s a touch ridiculous that they can’t communicate with each other to save the cost of at least one of these follow up scans. We need electronic medical files desperately but I have no idea if we will ever get there.)
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