Wednesday, April 6, 2011

If you are a boy- skip this post. Trust me.

I have learned this pregnancy/post-partum period to be extremely grateful for all health care professionals.  While my prenatal care, labour and delivery with Eloise was fantastic with my midwives, I have been "Specul("  by my share of different doctors since.  My running total for doctors, midwives and residents who have shone a flashlight where none should shine is 7.  AND I am not even including the nurses and interns.  In the last 3 weeks.  Bet you are all spectacularly jealous.

There were some "retained products" in my Uter-House that I found out about on Friday.  By ultrasound.  An ultrasound that didn't include a galloping heartbeat and giddy excitement??  That's what I am used to, so this one wasn't quite as awesome.  Doctor # 4 gave me two options: crazy drugs that needed to be inserted and would cause horrific cramping, or I could just go for S.U.R.G.E.R.Y. the following Monday.  Wow.  Both were so appealing, it was just too difficult to choose.

I finally decided to go for the surgery, but was talked into the pill option Monday morning by doctor #3.  Confidently, pills were inserted.  I knew I was in for a ride, but this seemed like the least offensive option, and then I wouldn't have to ask anyone to watch my kids.  And hey, I just went through labour; surely I could tough out some cramps, right??  Three hours later, I was in the ER with a raging fever, hearing a doctor (not counted - she never saw my girl-y bits) who kept saying, "I hope you don't mind me saying this, but you really don't look so hot" (while funny, not terribly reassuring that I wasn't in fact, going to die.)  Two bags of IV fluid, multiple vials of blood taken, and some intense IV antibiotics later, it was determined by doctors #5 & #6 who got to know me intimately, that it was just a rare side effect of the drug previously inserted.  Awesome.

Then this morning I had to go to an ultrasound to make sure the pills, after the previous day's fiasco, at the very least did what they were supposed to do.  Another lovely photo-op of my uterus showed no change.  I was going to have to get the D & C anyway.  Even Awesomer.

My mom is a nurse.  I get my ability to be casual and talk about things such as this because of her.  But I also got a few other gems from her too... like by all the things we would talk about at the dinner table; while very interesting, inadvertently turned all of her kids into a bunch of raging hypochondriacs who all know a little bit of everything (primarily symptoms of all major, life-threatening and rare diseases).  So my first response to my impending surgery was tears, stress and major anxiety that I probably was going to end up with a hysterectomy, and definitely some sort of crazy hospital-born infection that will see both my feet amputated.  Awesomest.

So off I go to the hospital.  But not before also panicking about having to ask someone to watch my kids - again.  (Yeah for homeschooling...)  Thank you Jen for Monday, Pam for today and Laura for both days and to all of you for just being fantastic and thoughtful as always.

Paul gave me a blessing so I no longer felt like I was going to be menopausal at 33, nor did I fear losing my appendages anymore.  Whew.  Thank goodness for the Priesthood.  I had the procedure done by doctor #7, who was actually awesome in a non-sarcastic way.  She was very patient, and just doting enough to Eloise to make me a friend for life.  I love her.

So no more weird down-stairs business.  I still have my uterus, my hands and feet are still on.  Doctor #7 fixed me and so out of all the doctors who have seen and felt me, I love her the most; because that is what it is all about.