That was Monday, the 20th. I went home stunned and worried because (1) it is impossible for me to keep my trap shut so there is no way I could keep this silent for the next obligatory twelve week waiting period and (2) it is impossible for me to keep my trap shut so I was bound to let the cat out of the bag before it was deemed safe.
Then on Friday I ended up back at the doctors because of some other unrelated stuff that was related to my girly parts. I have a history of problems with girly parts so they wanted to see me right away. Mostly to worry me, I suppose, but in this case there were some issues that needed attention and so I was put on a host of drugs. And that lasted a week.
And then on Sunday, just about the time I got to thinking hey, at least now I don't have to try to get in shape for our 20-year high school reunion this August, I started bleeding. Like, a lot. Normally I wouldn't have thought anything of it. Normally I would've said something along the lines of phew! You're a couple days late but, boy, am I glad to see you! But since I knew then I also knew this wasn't a good sign.
So I ended back up in the ER waiting room once again. This time with a bunch of really crazy people that I enthusiastically texted my sister about. People like gross puking guy who sat right in my direct line of vision. He hung his head in a bucket and made gagging noises that made me want to scream.
And then there was crazy motor scooter lady who I think just happened to be hanging out in the ER drinking their free coffee and watching TV and randomly trying to strike up conversations with people who were desperately trying to avoid her. Like me.
And then there was the loud talking cell phone user. She seemed quite jolly, laughing about the barbeque she just come from and how crazy that be-yotch Danielle was, what with all her gettin' all up on every man that walked by. Girl, she gots to learn to reign that shee-yot in!
Finally it was my turn and since I was considered a sensitive patient I got my own private exam room with attached bathroom and a flat screen TV and warm blankets. Three of them. And I felt kind of guilty because, you know, they seemed to be fussing a lot over something that was the size of a grain of rice, and yet it was awfully chilly in that there exam room so I gladly accepted those warm blankets.
And that made me wonder why we didn't exercise this practice more at home. So I turned to Big V and asked him if he would be interested in warming a blanket in our dryer every evening before I went to bed and if he would also be so kind as to go down to the dryer in the basement and carry it up quickly - but not too quickly because I wouldn't want the cool breeze of his quick ninja-like movements to tragically cool the blanket, because then he'd have to go back down to the basement and do the whole warming process all over again, but Big V said he was not at all interested in that plan because he's warm blooded and doesn't need blanket heat assistance.
Whatever. I still think he should at least consider it.
Anyway. After the IV from hell....
|This is like the Alcatraz of IVs|
Except that's not exactly what he had in mind.
And his description included the words after inserting the catheter
and I was all woah! woah! WOAH!
and the nurse was all you'll do fine
and Big V was all haha! you need a catheter
and I was all I'm suddenly feeling faint
but the nurse was like a slick car salesman and had me actually believing I wouldn't feel a thing.
But she lied.
Because I don't care how gentle someone is, you can feel that.
And then she had me all believing I was brave and did great and even complimented me on my fantastic urethra. True story. I even sent a bragging text to my sister because I don't think anyone ever told her that she has a fantastic urethra. Take that, stereotypical over achieving, successful big sister who tans easy whereby I am left with pasty white skin no matter how much sun I am exposed to!
Also, I'm pretty sure I have the best urethra in the family because no one has ever mentioned it before and I'm thinking they would have if someone told them they had a good urethra because that's just not something you hear every day and you would be proud of that sort of compliment.
But things quickly took a turn for the worse when I heard the words we'll just fill your bladder up with fluid.... because that confused me. Isn't a catheter meant to drain things? Empty things? What is this whole fill things up talk?
Oh, yes, believe me, they actually can - and will - use a catheter to fill your bladder up with fluids. And it does not feel very pleasant at all.
Then comes the part where they have to take the catheter tube out. Naturally, I was all am I going to pee on this bed? and the nurse was all naturally, you are. And so I made Big V promise to never use this against me in case he tries to put me in an old folk's home. (I am older than him by six whole years; you never know when they can turn on you.) And then I peed my bed a little bit.
Eventually, I was let loose and told the drill and told to return to the lab on Tuesday for more blood work. Which I did. And that blood work came back saying, yep, I did miscarriage and I needed to follow-up in 10 days with another exam like the one I had before. But I told them I would be busy in 10 days and unable to have my bladder unnaturally filled through a flexible straw and they were all nice try.
Then, when I called to make the appointment, the girl there tried to tell me I hadn't miscarried that it was just a threatened miscarriage and it would need to be confirmed through a blood draw in 48 hours and I had to point out that actually it was past threatened because the nurse I talked to twelve minutes earlier told me it had been confirmed through yesterday's blood draw and didn't they know I was emotionally fragile because now I have to do crunches for that darn reunion? So she apologized and I said that's okay, maybe you can just coordinate some warm blankets to be delivered to my home and she acted like she didn't even hear me. But I know she did.
So, today, at work it all came out and I felt weird because we were all sitting around eating and they were saying I'm sorry but actually, I felt very lucky. See, I didn't even get a chance to wrap my head around everything so I don't feel devastated and also it made me think that maybe I am getting older and if we do want to add more children to this crazy mix of a family, now would be the time. You know, before I do get shoved into that old folk's home.
I grew up with a terrific extended family. It was belonging to our family that was important, not the clothes you wore, or the car you drove, or the house you lived in. My grandfather believed in God and hard work and being kind to others. And I think that is a pretty terrific life philosophy that I hope my own kids will someday live by. Also, the more kids I have the better my odds that one of them will end up a super successful rock star that will want to buy their Mommy a mansion. Just sayin'.
Also, I'd once again like to thank my awesome, wonderful, terrific sister who is the only person on earth who can make me die laughing during a play by play textathon during a miscarriage. Again -- I cannot stress enough - get yourself a sister if you don't already have one! Or get yourself another one if the one you have sucks.