Ninapintasantamaria's Blog











{October 26, 2009}   What an ass….

Today, I was in the same Dr’s room that hollered at me for not running the x-ray machine a few weeks ago. Somehow, he got on the subject of Postpartum Depression. In his opinion, it’s not a medical diagnosis, but purely a legal defense for the crazies who drown their children and shoot their husbands. His words, not mine. Then he went into how the whole world changes for men just like it does for women, so why are women so depressed? Well, the men don’t have hormones surging like crazy, and the men aren’t solely responsible for feeding and nurturing the little munchkin. The men didn’t just “squeeze something the size of a watermelon out of a hole the size of a lemon”, to quote a well known movie. The men aren’t defined by their ability, or lack thereof, to give birth, and the men aren’t subjected to jokes about *ahem* anatomy changes postpartum of which there’s always underlying tension/apprehension on both parts about how their sex life is going to change. The men aren’t defined by their ability to lose weight after delivery, and thereby return to perfect status. I know some girls start out behind the 8-ball on that one, but you know what I mean. Why is there so much emphasis on this anyway? Why can’t the men see that it’s more important to help out and keep baby healthy and happy? I managed to hold all of this in, (aren’t y’all proud?) and just said “Well, knowing how ppd affected me, I would never tell a woman that her feelings didn’t exist and it was all in her head. I realize that my situation magnified it to volcano size, but just because ppd affected me that way, doesn’t make those women any less entitled to their feelings.” He started to argue, but I think he realized he was going to lose. I can’t believe that someone who saves lives and heals people for a living could make such an uncaring, insensitive, crass statement. Actually, he’s probably only in it for the money. He makes a lot of it.

Aaaaaand coming to you live at 0230 am for an update: I’m currently up late blogging because if I lay down, my esophagus just might erode away. Yep, he’s apparently laying on my stomach, because as someone who’s never experienced heartburn/indigestion in her life, I’m now whining. And unable to sleep due to these symptoms. I’ve taken zan.tac, and am not so patiently waiting for it to work. Seriously. Never in her life. I’ve always prided myself on having an iron stomach. I guess there’s exceptions for everything. And I’m still a little pissed at Dr. L. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve known he’s a ass ever since I first met him, like 5 years ago, or something. I just didn’t know it was to this extent.

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