February 10, 2025 • 21 mins
This is the story of how persistence and advocacy helped me reclaim my hope and take the final steps toward freezing my eggs. A journey of heartbreak that pushed me closer to the edge of total despair, than I ever had been before. Then after months of setbacks, I found a team that believed in me and my right to choose motherhood.
Let's Make IVF Ableism A Thing Of The Past:
Please reach out to me directly through my email icantstandpodcast@gmail.com or via social media. My handle is @Petahooke https://www.instagram.com/petahooke/
You can share your story anonymously if needed.
See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
This limited series Eggs contains discussions of fertility, IVF and ableism.
(00:20):
How long will I have to wait? I have asked
myself this so many times about my independence, my career,
my love life. I don't think the fact that I
have a disability makes me unique in needing answers to
(00:42):
this question. Disabled people might have to ask it more often, though,
particularly when asking how long do I have to wait
to experience inclusion and accessibility in my community? Due to
(01:03):
the structure of society, many disabled people I used to
a massive amount of life admin that other people just
don't have to manage. Life admin can define our lives.
Believe it or not, There are no days off from
being disabled. So when I was first told of the
(01:26):
issue of gaining a portable hoist for the day of
my egg retrieval, I told my specialists not to worry.
The faithless people we needed to get disapproval from had
probably never experienced the level of determination or should I say, stubbornness,
(01:47):
that a disabled person can harness. We are experts at
being told no and finding a way regardless. I also
felt that the inherent logic of the situation would be
our ally. How could a piece a portable equipment that
(02:11):
can be found in hospitals, schools, and homes all across
the world, not be sourced. A simple Google search will
show how readily available they are to hire. We've run
into a roadblock, my specialist said, brow furrowed. They said
(02:35):
they can't find a hoist for the procedure. I should
have said, can't all do you mean they won't find
a hote? But instead I responded, Okay, well I have one.
I can bring it with me and it can be
used on the day of the procedure. I'll let them know,
(02:59):
my specialist said. In the meantime, we require every patient
to undergo counseling to make sure you understand what to
expect about the process of IVF. I will do whatever
is needed to be done, I said, determined. I went
(03:23):
to the counseling sessions, thankfully via zoom, with a group
of other people, all of us anonymous, reduced to black squares,
put on mute. Our names were replaced by a serial number,
like we were going to war. I've heard back from
(03:56):
the hospital, my specialist said, looking over his smallses as
he spoke to me. For health and safety purposes, they
can't let the nurses operate your hoist. That isn't the
hospital's equipment, even if it is hired from a reputable organization.
(04:16):
Butterflies now appearing in my stomach, I said, okay, Well,
my parents will help me with the hoist. Then no
one else needs to touch it. They will just be
there to support the process. Remember, I just need to
be transferred onto the bed, nothing else. The whole process
(04:37):
will take less than five minutes. I'll ask them, my
specialists assured me. Then, sliding a few papers across his desk,
he added, in the meantime, can you fill out these
forms to get you in the system, so once we
get the okay, we can start this process as quickly
(04:58):
as possible. The forms were a bit of a shock,
despite the fact I was just there to freeze my eggs.
Every page asked me about my marital status and my
partner's details, pages and pages where I wrote not applicable,
(05:19):
repeatedly outlining that, in fact, yes, I was single. Seeing
so many blank sections on a page was harder than
I expected. I didn't have the answer to the partner section,
just like I didn't have the answer of when my
eggs would be frozen. I haven't heard back. I heard
(05:43):
my specialist day another week, sitting in his office. Can
you follow up with them, please and tell them I'll
sign a waiver whatever it takes to be transferred onto
that bed. Hearing so many no's from the hospital and
from my specialists felt contagious. I started saying no to
(06:10):
other parts of my life. I started dropping the ball.
My career was not my priority any more. I wasn't
in the hustle. I was exhausted. Every week and every
month that passed by, I felt more upset. I was
(06:31):
a disability advocate, and yet this was a new form
of exclusion and ableism that I didn't feel equipped for.
The tools that I normally pulled out of my mental
health tool box were not doing their job. All I
seemed to be achieving was ordering yet another box of
(06:55):
tissues in my weekly shop. Then now I believe the
room is too small to do the transfer with a
portable hoist. My specialist said, concerned, they've advised me to
direct you to the public system. There's always a way.
(07:15):
I don't understand. I could get in the hoist in
the hallway, and then they could push me to the
bed in the emergency department in that very same hospital.
Nurses don't ignore the patient if they collapse on the floor.
Why am I any different? I'm sorry, Peter, but I
(07:40):
pay for private health care. I don't feel right about
taking a bed from another woman who doesn't have the choice.
I will keep trying, but in the meantime, I've emailed
the head of the public hospital to let them know
of your situation. There could be in love issue. I
(08:02):
held my breath. Public hospitals are not keen to take
private patients. As you've just articulated yourself, we have to
get special permission for you to use the system as
a private patient, meaning it could be a while before
you freeze your ex Surely, once you explain the situation
(08:26):
and outline that I have now been given no other choice,
they will accept me. He hesitated. Also, I must tell you,
as I'm a specialist in the private system, I will
not be permitted to do the procedure as your doctor.
(08:57):
You need to go public. This is ridiculous, a friend
passionately told me over breakfast. I know it's ridiculous, but
I'm not ready. I don't want my medical information to
be public yet. Plus we both know the backlash that
(09:17):
disabled women face when speaking out about motherhood. I'm not
in the right place to fight another person, or, let's
face it, it could be a mob of people. I
will go public one day when I'm ready. Medical professionals
need to better understand our needs. We have a right
(09:40):
to undergo any medical procedure, just like everyone else. I
was now in a routine of follow ups, viophone calls
and emails with my specialist. I was stuck on a
roller coaster ride, going round in circles, I never really progressing.
(10:03):
I was screaming into the wind, no matter how drastic
the drop. No one seemingly could hear me, but I
refused to go away. I nudged, nudged, nudged, keeping on
their back, waiting for the okay, call me back at
(10:24):
the end of the month. Peter were following up constantly
with the public hospital, but this decision will take time.
So at the end of every month, with the rest
of my life on hold, I called an emailed asking
for answers. No, we haven't heard anything. Call back at
(10:46):
the end of next month. Of those people who knew
they would text in to see how I was going,
Knowing that the end of every month meant that I
might get more answers. I told them I felt like
I was stuck in life's waiting room. I just wanted
to break down the door. I wanted to progress. Then
(11:12):
one day I received a call. It's my specialist's receptionist, Peter.
The public hospital has requested more information about your disability.
Can I get some details? Sure, I'm happy to share
whatever's needed. You have my permission, But I don't understand
(11:34):
why this information is relevant to freezing my eggs. I
am a woman, I am thirty three years old. I
have cerebral palsy and I can't stand, walk, or transfer myself.
I need a hoist to transfer me on to the bed.
That is all I am requesting. The atmosphere on the
(11:58):
call shifted. There was a long pause, another long pause,
then a sentence fell out of my mouth. I had
not been brave enough to say, it feels like I'm
being asked these questions so they can determine if I'm
(12:20):
capable of being a mother, which isn't their place. I
just want to freeze my eggs before it's too late. Please.
We said good bye, and I hung up. I called
a friend. She was in her car. Her kids were
(12:42):
in the back seat. I feel I have to justify myself,
I told her, my voice, stumbling over the words justify
my ability. No one else has to do this. You
don't need a license to be a parent. Suddenly I
was sobbing, the sort of sob I don't let people
(13:07):
see or hear. But it felt so raw that I
couldn't stop it. With my calls and emails still not
resulting in any answers from my specialist or the hospital,
(13:30):
I found myself back at my GP. It wasn't lost
on me that I was back here after nine months
of trying to start this whole process. My GP wrote
on the referral that she was quote bloody angry on
(13:51):
my behalf. After taking a breath, she thought better of
it and deleted the word bloody. It was heartening to
see her mad on my behalf, validating that my experience
had not been okay. With two new referrals now in
my possession, before I booked an appointment with either, I
(14:15):
called them. I told them my story to this point.
I didn't have the luxury to waste time anymore, and
I needed to know if I was picking the right horse.
To win my fertility race. The first clinic was shocked
to hear what I had been through, but I was
(14:37):
told that they didn't have a hoist either, and I
would likely run into the same issues. The second one
was more even killed a matter of fact about my experience.
I was advised to sit down with their specialists and
discuss as she could help me. Would you like to
(14:59):
do this appointment, person of our zoom Peter. To this appointment,
I wore a white shirt, move jumper and wore my
nana's beads as a choker, again sublimily trying to make
my message clear, Please believe that I am capable. I
(15:21):
wasn't far off begging. At this point. On my computer screen,
a blond woman appeared. Her favorite color was clearly pink.
She wore it with confidence and strength. This was doctor
Lynn Brewmeister. I told her my story. She listened intently.
(15:44):
When I asked her if a hoist could be sourced,
she said to me directly, looking me straight in the eye.
If the hospital doesn't supply one, that would be discrimination. Peter.
Every person, since experience with fertility is unique to them,
it makes such a difference to find the right team
(16:06):
for you. Number One Fertility might not be right for you.
But after the time I had had fighting for my
reproductive rights, it was a surreal experience that I might
actually get to do this, I might actually freeze my eggs.
I had found my team of angels, ready to be flexible,
(16:29):
ready to help me. It wasn't instant and easy. From
that time on, we still struggled to get blood tests
and blood out of me, still had to wait to
get approval for that hoist to transfer me on too
that bloody hospital bed, and I still had not discovered
(16:50):
how fertile I was. The day the unit nurse manager
at Number One Fertility paula scandal and told me thet
had been approved by the hospital, I couldn't hold in
my tears. I have no words to which to fully
articulate how thankful I was They gave me back hope,
(17:15):
and without hope, life gets really hard. I was crying
for myself, of course, but I was also heartbroken to
think that there might be other disabled women that didn't
get the chance to freeze their eggs because of inaccessibility
and ableism. I knew that this experience had pushed me
(17:39):
to the edge of despair like I had never experienced before.
I only had to live with hopelessness for ten months
or so. I couldn't stop thinking of the people who
didn't get so lucky. We are privileged in Australia. Our
(18:00):
reproductive rights are fiercely protected and felt seemingly secure. Before
this experience, I didn't realize disabled women didn't have the
same privilege. This is the reason why I've created this
podcast to make sure the future is better for disabled women.
(18:23):
We should all have the right to choose if or
not we want to be a parent. If you face
similar barriers, or if you work in the healthcare system,
I want to share your story, Please reach out to
me directly through my email I Can't Standpodcast at gmail
(18:43):
dot com, or via social media. My handle is at
Peter Hook spelled p e t a Hook. You can
share your story anonymously if needed. Just let me know.
I may have found hope, but there are countless other
women out there still waiting for their chance. In the
(19:09):
next few weeks, I'll be back with new episodes, sharing
the reality of what it is like to undergo IVF
when you have cerebral palsy, and I hope to be
able to share more information about how we can work
together to make the IVF system more accessible for everyone.
(19:29):
I hope to try and fix this. I am just
one person with one story, but with your help, I
hope it will be enough. I'll see you soon for
part four. Thank you for listening to EGGS, a limited
(19:54):
series from the people or the person that brings you
the I Can't Stand podcast. This series was produced and
edited by me Peter Hook. If you've enjoyed this episode,
please consider sharing it with someone who you think might
benefit from hearing it. And if you'd like to support
(20:16):
the podcast, don't forget to subscribe, leave a review, or
follow me over on Instagram. Until next time, Thank you
so much for listening. Take care. I would like to
(20:36):
respectfully acknowledge they were wondery and bunner wrong people of
the call and nation of which I record the podcast today,
and I pay my respects to both elders past and present,
along with and especially to those in the First Nation's
communities who are disabled themselves. Yeah
This limited series Eggs contains discussions of fertility, IVF and ableism.
(00:20):
How long will I have to wait? I have asked
myself this so many times about my independence, my career,
my love life. I don't think the fact that I
have a disability makes me unique in needing answers to
(00:42):
this question. Disabled people might have to ask it more often, though,
particularly when asking how long do I have to wait
to experience inclusion and accessibility in my community? Due to
(01:03):
the structure of society, many disabled people I used to
a massive amount of life admin that other people just
don't have to manage. Life admin can define our lives.
Believe it or not, There are no days off from
being disabled. So when I was first told of the
(01:26):
issue of gaining a portable hoist for the day of
my egg retrieval, I told my specialists not to worry.
The faithless people we needed to get disapproval from had
probably never experienced the level of determination or should I say, stubbornness,
(01:47):
that a disabled person can harness. We are experts at
being told no and finding a way regardless. I also
felt that the inherent logic of the situation would be
our ally. How could a piece a portable equipment that
(02:11):
can be found in hospitals, schools, and homes all across
the world, not be sourced. A simple Google search will
show how readily available they are to hire. We've run
into a roadblock, my specialist said, brow furrowed. They said
(02:35):
they can't find a hoist for the procedure. I should
have said, can't all do you mean they won't find
a hote? But instead I responded, Okay, well I have one.
I can bring it with me and it can be
used on the day of the procedure. I'll let them know,
(02:59):
my specialist said. In the meantime, we require every patient
to undergo counseling to make sure you understand what to
expect about the process of IVF. I will do whatever
is needed to be done, I said, determined. I went
(03:23):
to the counseling sessions, thankfully via zoom, with a group
of other people, all of us anonymous, reduced to black squares,
put on mute. Our names were replaced by a serial number,
like we were going to war. I've heard back from
(03:56):
the hospital, my specialist said, looking over his smallses as
he spoke to me. For health and safety purposes, they
can't let the nurses operate your hoist. That isn't the
hospital's equipment, even if it is hired from a reputable organization.
(04:16):
Butterflies now appearing in my stomach, I said, okay, Well,
my parents will help me with the hoist. Then no
one else needs to touch it. They will just be
there to support the process. Remember, I just need to
be transferred onto the bed, nothing else. The whole process
(04:37):
will take less than five minutes. I'll ask them, my
specialists assured me. Then, sliding a few papers across his desk,
he added, in the meantime, can you fill out these
forms to get you in the system, so once we
get the okay, we can start this process as quickly
(04:58):
as possible. The forms were a bit of a shock,
despite the fact I was just there to freeze my eggs.
Every page asked me about my marital status and my
partner's details, pages and pages where I wrote not applicable,
(05:19):
repeatedly outlining that, in fact, yes, I was single. Seeing
so many blank sections on a page was harder than
I expected. I didn't have the answer to the partner section,
just like I didn't have the answer of when my
eggs would be frozen. I haven't heard back. I heard
(05:43):
my specialist day another week, sitting in his office. Can
you follow up with them, please and tell them I'll
sign a waiver whatever it takes to be transferred onto
that bed. Hearing so many no's from the hospital and
from my specialists felt contagious. I started saying no to
(06:10):
other parts of my life. I started dropping the ball.
My career was not my priority any more. I wasn't
in the hustle. I was exhausted. Every week and every
month that passed by, I felt more upset. I was
(06:31):
a disability advocate, and yet this was a new form
of exclusion and ableism that I didn't feel equipped for.
The tools that I normally pulled out of my mental
health tool box were not doing their job. All I
seemed to be achieving was ordering yet another box of
(06:55):
tissues in my weekly shop. Then now I believe the
room is too small to do the transfer with a
portable hoist. My specialist said, concerned, they've advised me to
direct you to the public system. There's always a way.
(07:15):
I don't understand. I could get in the hoist in
the hallway, and then they could push me to the
bed in the emergency department in that very same hospital.
Nurses don't ignore the patient if they collapse on the floor.
Why am I any different? I'm sorry, Peter, but I
(07:40):
pay for private health care. I don't feel right about
taking a bed from another woman who doesn't have the choice.
I will keep trying, but in the meantime, I've emailed
the head of the public hospital to let them know
of your situation. There could be in love issue. I
(08:02):
held my breath. Public hospitals are not keen to take
private patients. As you've just articulated yourself, we have to
get special permission for you to use the system as
a private patient, meaning it could be a while before
you freeze your ex Surely, once you explain the situation
(08:26):
and outline that I have now been given no other choice,
they will accept me. He hesitated. Also, I must tell you,
as I'm a specialist in the private system, I will
not be permitted to do the procedure as your doctor.
(08:57):
You need to go public. This is ridiculous, a friend
passionately told me over breakfast. I know it's ridiculous, but
I'm not ready. I don't want my medical information to
be public yet. Plus we both know the backlash that
(09:17):
disabled women face when speaking out about motherhood. I'm not
in the right place to fight another person, or, let's
face it, it could be a mob of people. I
will go public one day when I'm ready. Medical professionals
need to better understand our needs. We have a right
(09:40):
to undergo any medical procedure, just like everyone else. I
was now in a routine of follow ups, viophone calls
and emails with my specialist. I was stuck on a
roller coaster ride, going round in circles, I never really progressing.
(10:03):
I was screaming into the wind, no matter how drastic
the drop. No one seemingly could hear me, but I
refused to go away. I nudged, nudged, nudged, keeping on
their back, waiting for the okay, call me back at
(10:24):
the end of the month. Peter were following up constantly
with the public hospital, but this decision will take time.
So at the end of every month, with the rest
of my life on hold, I called an emailed asking
for answers. No, we haven't heard anything. Call back at
(10:46):
the end of next month. Of those people who knew
they would text in to see how I was going,
Knowing that the end of every month meant that I
might get more answers. I told them I felt like
I was stuck in life's waiting room. I just wanted
to break down the door. I wanted to progress. Then
(11:12):
one day I received a call. It's my specialist's receptionist, Peter.
The public hospital has requested more information about your disability.
Can I get some details? Sure, I'm happy to share
whatever's needed. You have my permission, But I don't understand
(11:34):
why this information is relevant to freezing my eggs. I
am a woman, I am thirty three years old. I
have cerebral palsy and I can't stand, walk, or transfer myself.
I need a hoist to transfer me on to the bed.
That is all I am requesting. The atmosphere on the
(11:58):
call shifted. There was a long pause, another long pause,
then a sentence fell out of my mouth. I had
not been brave enough to say, it feels like I'm
being asked these questions so they can determine if I'm
(12:20):
capable of being a mother, which isn't their place. I
just want to freeze my eggs before it's too late. Please.
We said good bye, and I hung up. I called
a friend. She was in her car. Her kids were
(12:42):
in the back seat. I feel I have to justify myself,
I told her, my voice, stumbling over the words justify
my ability. No one else has to do this. You
don't need a license to be a parent. Suddenly I
was sobbing, the sort of sob I don't let people
(13:07):
see or hear. But it felt so raw that I
couldn't stop it. With my calls and emails still not
resulting in any answers from my specialist or the hospital,
(13:30):
I found myself back at my GP. It wasn't lost
on me that I was back here after nine months
of trying to start this whole process. My GP wrote
on the referral that she was quote bloody angry on
(13:51):
my behalf. After taking a breath, she thought better of
it and deleted the word bloody. It was heartening to
see her mad on my behalf, validating that my experience
had not been okay. With two new referrals now in
my possession, before I booked an appointment with either, I
(14:15):
called them. I told them my story to this point.
I didn't have the luxury to waste time anymore, and
I needed to know if I was picking the right horse.
To win my fertility race. The first clinic was shocked
to hear what I had been through, but I was
(14:37):
told that they didn't have a hoist either, and I
would likely run into the same issues. The second one
was more even killed a matter of fact about my experience.
I was advised to sit down with their specialists and
discuss as she could help me. Would you like to
(14:59):
do this appointment, person of our zoom Peter. To this appointment,
I wore a white shirt, move jumper and wore my
nana's beads as a choker, again sublimily trying to make
my message clear, Please believe that I am capable. I
(15:21):
wasn't far off begging. At this point. On my computer screen,
a blond woman appeared. Her favorite color was clearly pink.
She wore it with confidence and strength. This was doctor
Lynn Brewmeister. I told her my story. She listened intently.
(15:44):
When I asked her if a hoist could be sourced,
she said to me directly, looking me straight in the eye.
If the hospital doesn't supply one, that would be discrimination. Peter.
Every person, since experience with fertility is unique to them,
it makes such a difference to find the right team
(16:06):
for you. Number One Fertility might not be right for you.
But after the time I had had fighting for my
reproductive rights, it was a surreal experience that I might
actually get to do this, I might actually freeze my eggs.
I had found my team of angels, ready to be flexible,
(16:29):
ready to help me. It wasn't instant and easy. From
that time on, we still struggled to get blood tests
and blood out of me, still had to wait to
get approval for that hoist to transfer me on too
that bloody hospital bed, and I still had not discovered
(16:50):
how fertile I was. The day the unit nurse manager
at Number One Fertility paula scandal and told me thet
had been approved by the hospital, I couldn't hold in
my tears. I have no words to which to fully
articulate how thankful I was They gave me back hope,
(17:15):
and without hope, life gets really hard. I was crying
for myself, of course, but I was also heartbroken to
think that there might be other disabled women that didn't
get the chance to freeze their eggs because of inaccessibility
and ableism. I knew that this experience had pushed me
(17:39):
to the edge of despair like I had never experienced before.
I only had to live with hopelessness for ten months
or so. I couldn't stop thinking of the people who
didn't get so lucky. We are privileged in Australia. Our
(18:00):
reproductive rights are fiercely protected and felt seemingly secure. Before
this experience, I didn't realize disabled women didn't have the
same privilege. This is the reason why I've created this
podcast to make sure the future is better for disabled women.
(18:23):
We should all have the right to choose if or
not we want to be a parent. If you face
similar barriers, or if you work in the healthcare system,
I want to share your story, Please reach out to
me directly through my email I Can't Standpodcast at gmail
(18:43):
dot com, or via social media. My handle is at
Peter Hook spelled p e t a Hook. You can
share your story anonymously if needed. Just let me know.
I may have found hope, but there are countless other
women out there still waiting for their chance. In the
(19:09):
next few weeks, I'll be back with new episodes, sharing
the reality of what it is like to undergo IVF
when you have cerebral palsy, and I hope to be
able to share more information about how we can work
together to make the IVF system more accessible for everyone.
(19:29):
I hope to try and fix this. I am just
one person with one story, but with your help, I
hope it will be enough. I'll see you soon for
part four. Thank you for listening to EGGS, a limited
(19:54):
series from the people or the person that brings you
the I Can't Stand podcast. This series was produced and
edited by me Peter Hook. If you've enjoyed this episode,
please consider sharing it with someone who you think might
benefit from hearing it. And if you'd like to support
(20:16):
the podcast, don't forget to subscribe, leave a review, or
follow me over on Instagram. Until next time, Thank you
so much for listening. Take care. I would like to
(20:36):
respectfully acknowledge they were wondery and bunner wrong people of
the call and nation of which I record the podcast today,
and I pay my respects to both elders past and present,
along with and especially to those in the First Nation's
communities who are disabled themselves. Yeah
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