...or at least threaten to. Well, in the case of my wonderful OB, Dr.B, all I had to do was tell him that I am getting a job at the Other Big Hospital. Which means that I will have access to full text of every medical journal on the planet, more or less. He said he was moving. Without a forwarding address. We had a good laugh.
He also assured me that while the risk would be significantly higher if despite everyone's best efforts I did end up pregnant with twins, it wasn't going to be a deal breaker. He said he would bump up the monitoring and maybe start himself on Prozac. Did I mention I love my OB?
We talked about other things, like my medications and Dr.YoungGun's qualifications. Overall it was just very nice to see Dr.B, to know that he is still thinking of us, to get this reminder that if and when I get knocked up again, we will be in very good hands indeed.
Afterwards, I went upstairs to try to schedule a few things. They were able to move my ultrasound to today, so I will be leaving for that in a few minutes. They also scheduled JD's second swimming test for a month from the first one, and our follow up with Dr.YoungGun for a week after that. So a productive day overall.
As I was picking up Monkey from school, I told her teacher that Berura now knows about A because Monkey told her. The teacher replied that Monkey has told a lot of kids, and that they are accepting of the story. One of them came to the teacher to ask whether she knew, and received the confirmation that she did indeed know and that it was very sad. I think we did good with this school.
Ok, I am off to see how Immanuel is doing. I hope he is a rude kind of a bloke and has made his exit without any of those social niceties that would compel another, more civilized cyst to stick around for formal good-byes. But I am not holding my breath.