in which the nhs comes to the party
Friday, February 23, 2007
Did I mention how much I adore my midwife? Having seen me yesterday, she rang early this morning, despite having been up all night delivering babies, to let me know that a copy of my surgical notes from the UK had just arrived at her office by fax. We'd requested them by post a few weeks ago in order to find out where the incision was made on my uterus when I had the c-section three years ago in Cambridge. This is to determine whether I'll be allowed to try for a Natural Fun Birth™ as opposed to being booked in for an another Caesarean. If it's in the standard place ('low transverse'), the risk of rupture is considered to be acceptably low (as compared with other, less commonly-used, types of incision) and I'll probably be given the go-ahead for the NFB – I say 'probably' because, given my great age and the Mongolian Morris Dance* the last birth turned into, I'm still considered to be high risk and will need assessing by a specialist before being given permission to push.
Still, we love Margaret, and incidentally are also feeling pretty amorous towards the Medical Records Dept at Addenbrooke's in Cambridge. I rang them up last night to find out whether they'd received the request for my notes and, if so, whether they planned to do anything about it. Initially got some rather disdainful-sounding woman who starting blathering on that they didn't do that sort of thing, and anyway I'd have to pay 50 pounds, at which point the phone was grabbed off by her by the person in the office with the clue. Could I just confirm my name? Yes, they'd got the letter and she just needed to check with her manager and then they'd fax the information through. She made me repeat Margaret's fax number several times, explaining that medical notes being sensitive and confidential information, they liked to make certain that they were going to get to the right person. Fair enough. Then we had a nice chat, and I explained that I needed the notes as I was hoping to avoid a second c-section. Ah, she said, she could completely understand that, and would send them as soon as she could. Having warned me that it would take a couple of days to get her manager's approval, she clearly went and bailed him or her up on the spot, as the notes arrived overnight. Much to my relief, they reveal that I had the standard low transverse incision. NFB, ho! (After all there are still three months to go, and plenty of turning room left, for this baby to stop being breech...)
*We prefer this chaste term to the earthier Mongolian Cluster**** as it is more appropriate for tender ears. (And Rebecca's.)
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