There are a few things which, if found in her bathtub, newFNP would wrap in a cloth napkin and tuck away in her lingerie drawer for safe keeping. These include a Harry Winston 3-carat flawless diamond, a bar of gold bouillon and a love letter from George Clooney begging for a second date.
What she would not keep is a year old Mirena IUD that had spontaneously expelled itself from her daughter's uterus.
Granted, newFNP does not have a daughter, let alone a daughter old enough to have an IUD, but she's quite certain that if presented with that scenario, she's not keeping the IUD as some progestin secreting family heirloom.
But this is exactly what happened. NewFNP's patient presented to have a new IUD placed but had no evidence that the IUD string hadn't ascended rather than the whole damn thing falling out. Did she see the IUD or feel the IUD expelling? She did not. Her only proof of expelled IUD was the return of a normal menstrual period after a menses-free year. Sadly, that is not grade A evidence. NewFNP unsuccessfully hunted for strings and then filled out the referral for an ultrasound to confirm expulsion. A uterus is, after all, designed for only one IUD at a time.
Her patient went home and got on the horn to make the ultrasound appointment. Her mom, also a patient of newFNP's, overheard the conversation and, with a sly smile on her face, presented her daughter with a daintily folded cloth napkin. Inside was her Mirena.
Why? Why wait? Why keep the IUD and not let one's daughter know that she is no longer effectively contracepting? Why keep it?
It's all so confounding for newFNP.
And hey -- let's just put that napkin in the trash, shall we? If ever there were a situation that called for cloth napkin wasting, this is it.
1 comment:
was the mother waiting for a surprise pregnancy before the big reveal?
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