I’m a fairly impatient person, mostly because I would prefer to keep moving forward, even if it’s in the wrong direction. However, having grown up with Fawlty Towers, Black Adder and the Two Ronnies, I do enjoy a good farce, which has turned out to be lucky really.

My last post was in May, the reason for this big gap was that I decided I’d get through the next set of tests, and onto the IVF waiting list before I posted again. Considering how few tests I’ve had to have it’s been amazing how long this has been dragged out for.

With my blood tests completed at the GPs I was told the next step would be to head to the main hospital in Sheffield for a physical gynecology exam.

Sheffield is about a 2 hour drive from us, and quite a few of our appointments will need to be there, as well as a few in London. Having spoken to HR and my boss it turned out I am allowed 5 working days off for IVF appointments. This is very helpful, but if I drive over 4hrs to Sheffield and then have an appointment several times then my days will be gone before we’re even actually having the IVF.

Luckily for me some old school friends live in Sheffield and I asked if I could drive to theirs before work, then work from their house, and just pop out for the appointment. Very kindly they said they were more than happy to help.

So come the day of my first appointment I’m up early and on the road to get to their house before 9am. Chris didn’t join me for this appointment, to avoid using up both our allotted time. Truthfully, most of his job was done with the sperm sample he dropped off months ago.

I’d received the appointment letter, addressed only to me, with instructions to go to the gynaecology department. Given that the last thing I’d been told was that I needed a physical exam, this seemed about right. Still, just to be on the safe side I emailed our consultant. Though not based at Sheffield he confirmed it was probably the physical exam and so Chris wasn’t needed.

It was clear something was wrong when I stepped up to the gynaecology reception desk to give my name and they asked me where Chris was. I said that I didn’t think he was needed and was met with a puzzled look.

Still, nothing to be done now so off I went to the appointment on my own. Entering in I found a consultant, whose slightly sinister name didn’t quite fit with the occasion. For fairness sake I won’t give his real name, but instead call him Mr Grave. Mr Grave turned out to be the other consultant to now be assigned to our IVF case, as well as our genetics consultant.

Seeing that I’d arrived alone he stated surprise at there being no Chris. I explained I thought this was a physical exam, given all the information I’d received. But no, today he just needed to go over our basic information i.e. date of birth, age, height, weight, are we smokers, how much do we drink. Having asked where I lived, and commented on what a long drive I’d had, he looked down at his paperwork and said absentmindedly, ‘I guess we could have done this over the phone’…

Having taken down mine and Chris’s details, details might I add that we have been asked to give approximately four times now to different people, he let me know what to expect next.

Firstly, I would have to come back for my physical example, and then a blood test. Seeing as I was in the hospital at that very moment I asked if I could just have them now. He said it wasn’t possible as they needed to be booked in. I wondered internally why they couldn’t just have been booked in for the same date as this 10 min conversation. Actually, he said, perhaps he could get someone to take my blood now. Always an awkward customer I asked why I needed another blood test. This would afterall be my third. He explained that this blood test was very expensive so only hospitals were allowed to order them. I didn’t say, but did think, surely they could have ordered it when the GP took my blood, even if the GP couldn’t approve it themselves.

Beyond these two tests, we would then need to return for three more appointments, this time as a couple. One to see this consultant again, one to see this consultant and the London consultant, and one for the nurse to teach us how to inject hormones into my body. These being completed, and all being well, we then go onto the IVF waiting list, which is about 4-6months.

I couldn’t help but ask if any of these appointments could be combined. I.e. could we see him, and him and the other consultant on the same day, so as to reduce travel. No this wasn’t possible. Could some of the meetings be over the phone? No, because we had to be physically there to sign paperwork. I gave up and went to have more blood sucked out of my arm to check my AMH levels.

AMH is a protein produced by ovarian follicles, so high levels indicate there are plenty of eggs available to get pregnant.

This meeting was in August and I was told that Mr Grave would order the gynecology exam straight away…

In October I finally received a letter. The letter was dated the 10.10.23, and I’d received it two days later on the 12th. It stated to ring the booking team to book my appointment, so I rang the number straight away.

After some 20 mins waiting in the phone queue, the reference number on the letter, which it told me to quote, meant nothing to the person on the other end of the phone. Giving up on the reference number I tried my NHS number. This finally seemed to make sense of things and I was transfered to the gynecology department.

Answering the phone, another lady took my details and looked up the appointment. ‘I’m afraid this appointment has been cancelled as you didn’t call up within three weeks of receiving the letter’. I looked down at the letter in my hand, ‘But I’ve only just received it’. I could hear the women getting ready for a fight, though I kept my tone even and friendly. ‘Well our records show it was sent out in August.’ I looked down at the piece of paper, ‘But it says the 10th of October on it. I can send you a picture if that helps?’ The women paused, ‘That’s irrelevant. You’ll have to contact your consultant and get them to request a new appointment.’

So back I went to my consultant’s secretary and explained the issue. ‘Well that’s ridiculous,’ she said, ‘I’ll ring them up and sort it out,’ she added confidently. Ten minutes later she was on the phone to me, ‘I’m sorry they won’t budge I’ll have to get Mr Grave to issue a new appointment. You should get a letter in a few weeks.’

So, it was November by the time I drove the long way to Sheffield for my second appointment.

One thing that hadn’t been made clear to me was what the appointment involved. The letter I eventually received stated I would be having an external ultrasound exam, where an ultrasound is taken by applying gel to the belly and moving the machine across it, as shown in all popular medical dramas. The internal exam involves inserting a kind of wand into the vagina in order to get a better look. The letter told me I would have an external example, but an information sheet that had been added to the letter spoke about an internal and external exam, so I had no idea. All I knew was I had to down a load of water before my appointment.

Gently sloshing I waited in the appointment room, until I was called into a small examination room. ‘Are you aware you are having both an internal and external ultrasound scan today?’ The lady asked. ‘No,’ I responded, ‘but that’s fine.’ I’d gotten up early to have a good scrub just incase, and put on an acceptable pair of underwear.

The belly scan was fine, though naturally a little cold. I had expected her to point out things on the screen to me, as they do when talking the excited couple though the baby imaging, but I guess there’s no need to tell me where the womb is, and which bits are which, though I would’ve been interested.

I was then permitted to empty my bladder, which was a bit of a relief, before undressing for the internal exam. It wasn’t anywhere near as uncomfortable as a smear test, but it was a little odd how she’d had to point the stick this way and that to get a good image, like being part of a human computer game. I was also slightly disturbed by the fact that the ultrasound stick had to wear a condom.

The nurse stated that everything looked healthy, there was just a small fibroid, around 7mm long. These are apparently very common little lumps that form inside wombs. A few small ones are no big deal but a big one could prevent pregnancy.

Examination over she recommended I got in touch with Mr Grave to book the next appointment. Although it should happen automatically once she sent in the results, she paused, it was just good to chase things up.

So back to Mr Grave’s secretary I went to book the next appointment, the meeting with Mr Grave. Yet, having contacted Mr Grave’s secretary to book an appointment with Mr Grave I was told she couldn’t book that for me, and I would need to contact the booking team, so off I went onto half an hour of phone queuing.

It turned out the next available date for the joint consultant meeting was the 18th December, but the first date we could make for the meeting with Mr Grave was the 19th December. I emailed our London consultant and Mr Grave’s secretary to ask if we had to have the 19th December appointment prior to the joint meeting, as these are monthly and the next wasn’t until the end of January. No, we couldn’t have one before the other, however, our London consultant pointed out the meeting with Mr Grave was only to go over our results so he would ask for this to be a phone call. We much appreciated not having to drive 4 hours to talk through results.

The day before our phone call I received a letter from Mr Grave, this confirmed the appointment but said that I hadn’t had my scan and the blood test results had never arrived. My scan had obviously taken place in November, and I had emailed across my test results in October after Mr Grave said they were struggling to get hold of them from the GP. The date of the letter was the 17.12.23. I resent my test results to Mr Grave’s secretary while stating I had already had my scan. An apologetic email came back saying they were behind on their typing, something I didn’t realise was still a thing in the modern era. Surely form letters, or speech to text software had done away with the need for a typing pool? This outdated practice has meant almost every letter we’ve received has been incorrect or irrelevant.

In the end the phone call with Mr Grave took 4.36 minutes, which included several questions from me. Everything was all fine with our results, which we already knew as we’d had the test results given to us all along the way. For that 4.36 minute conversation we would have driven 4 hrs, and both ended up taking several hours off work, if the meeting hadn’t been changed last minute. And this after me asking several times if any meetings could be combined or carried out remotely.

This less than 5 minutes of telling us what we already knew had also cost us over a month waiting for the next joint consultant meeting. I asked, as is now my way, if we could book the third and final appointment now, rather than having to wait till after the joint consultant meeting. Of course, no.

I would like to say the joint consultation was more worth the 4 hour drive and the combined 6 hours we had to take off work… but it wasn’t. The paperwork, most of which repeated the same old questions we got every time (height, weight, do you smoke) could easily have been emailed and signed remoted. I’d even argue the three people in the room, our two consultants and the nurse who would be organising the IVF process for us, were wasting their time by being there. The genetics consultant explained how the PKD would be removed by looking at the genetic sequences of chromosome 16, in order to identify those that contained PKD (a 2 minute explanation which could have been done by phone or email, for which he sat silently in his chair for over an hour). The nurse introduced herself and explained she would be organising our schedule (and 2 minutes, easily emailed). And Mr Grave talked us through the paperwork and our results, a long conversation, half of which we already knew, the other half of which I’d have been happy to have been sent the paperwork and just read it myself. The phrase ‘please email me with any questions’ would have been much more time efficient.

The one thing we did need to be onsite for was a blood test. I wasn’t happy about this as no one had told me there would be needles. I’m well aware I will be poked with needles throughout this process, but the least they can do is give me notice.

These blood tests were to check us for diseases such HIV, which mean certain safety precautions need to be taken when storing and handling our bodily fluids. Health and safety, that’s fine, but again, why could the blood tests not have been done one of the many other times we’ve been stuck with needles?

It has been 2 years since we started this process, a process we were told would take 18 months from initial conversation to egg implantation. Now even a patient person would call that exasperating. I understand that the NHS is underfunded, understaffed and struggling, but the issues I see are more inefficiencies in ways of working, and mostly very simple to solve. Still perhaps this is a test, if you’re resilient enough to survive the IVF process, perhaps you’ll be resilient enough to raise a child? If you ever get there…

But to end this list of complaints on a high note we’ve now signed the paperwork. Our nurse will contact the hospital in London to book the egg collection and implantation, and work back from that to see when I need to become a human pincushion filled with hormones. It’s looking likely the process will start next summer.

From this stage forward it’s a 1 in 3 chance we end up with a baby. For myself, all the mechanics and medicals aren’t the scary part. The scary part is the baby at the end. For Chris, who doesn’t have much to do before the birth, that day can’t come soon enough. Together we balance out to one patient but excited person.