Early in my pregnancy in 2009, I started bleeding. The bleeding continued sporadically for months, finally culminating in an evening that left absolutely no doubt that we had miscarried and landing me in the local hospital.

 

You can watch my YouTube video (link below) or read chapter 8 below.

 

8. Blood

Thursday 10 September 2009

When I was [exercising], I got a couple of cramps like … just before a period…nothing major. A few minutes later, it felt … like something had just slid out of me. I rushed to the restroom to find my pad and underwear with quite a bit of blood on them.

I called Mike in from the living room and asked him to bring me some old underwear and some super-absorbent pads, because I knew what was going on. He was worried because he saw the bright red blood on my panties, so I made sure not to let him see the toilet bowl, which was red with blood and clots. I spent the next hour sitting on the toilet, cleaning myself up, putting a pad on a pair of underwear, flushing, then having to sit right back down again as I felt more blood and blood clots coming out. After about half an hour of this, I told Mike he could call his mom and let her know I hadmiscarried. He seemed more torn up about the miscarriage than I was. Really, I knew it was coming—I had watched and felt my body change over the past week.

Over the next hour of me and Mike talking to [his mom], things finally slowed down enough that I could get up and walk around without soaking through a pad…but then I’d feel that strange sensation and waddle—feeling like an infant with a full diaper—back to the bathroom to sit on the toilet … and [change] the pad and, usually, underwear. I left Mom and Dad a voicemail to let them know what happened, then wore old pants to bed and put a towel under me. …

I periodically feel tears surging up to my eyes, but then they go away. It was rough at the diagnostic center while waiting for my ultrasound because there was an adorable little girl there in the waiting room. Several times, I felt my face contort like I was going to lose it. But so far, no tears have actually fallen. I think it’s happening to Mike, too … but he’s trying to keep himself busy so he won’t think about it. …

Still, we’re able to joke about it and other things, and [we] look forward to trying again. When Dr. C came in to the waiting room today, she said she thought we seemed to be doing well with coping, fairly normal (even though normal is a wide range of things). She said the ultrasound showed just a little bit of tissue left but it looks like I passed almost everything yesterday … and that she doesn’t need to see me again unless I feel I need to be seen. …

Still, I’m kind of sad by our loss, but I’m fairly confident that we will get pregnant again pretty quickly.

 

Friday 11 September 2009

Another fairly large push of blood and blood clots just came. …  I think this should be most of what was remaining in the ultrasound I had yesterday.

***

I’ve been teary off and on all day. This evening, I used the restroom, and broke into tears which had escalated to full-on sobs by the time I had changed my pad and washed my hands. All I could think was that all that’s left of our baby is in the transh can on pads or toilet paper or has been flushed into our septic system. That’s all that’s left of our baby’s body.

I guess Mike heard me crying from the living room, because he came in and held me and let me sob on his shoulder. I guess the heavy crying caused my diaphragm to put pressure on my utuerus, because as I was gathering myself together, I felt a few bursts of blood/blood clots passing. When I checked, I saw that my pad was soaked, along with my underwear and pants. I cleaned up but, of course, cried a little the whole time.

After I was cleaned up, we went outside for a bit. It was dark, so we just stood in the driveway and held each other. Mike kept trying to make me laugh to cheer me up, and he did, a bit. I’m so glad I have him. I just wish the crying didn’t make him feel so uncomfortable. I wish he didn’t feel like he’s not supposed to cry or to be as sad as I am. He said that’s just not the way it is, so I told him this is our house and we make the rules and he’s allowed to cry and mourn and grieve. Now, if only he’ll let himself if he needs to.

 

Thursday 17 September 2009

I went to the bathroom and saw I had soaked through a normal pad. Sat on the toilet and felt everything trickling out steadily. Still sitting there, I called the doctor’s office again, and [the receptionist] put Dr. A on the phone with me. He wants me to have another ultrasound tomorrow to see how much is left, how much more will pass, etc. He said I’m in the driver’s seat and I can choose whether to have a D&C or go on to have everything pass naturally. He asked about how long I’ve been bleeding and said that it’s a bit confusing because normally, there’s one peak day and then everything kind of tapers off. I explained that’s what HAD happened until today. Basically, he said we’d schedule the ultrasound and that I am more than welcome to go to the hospital or come in to the office if I start bleeding “like a river.” …

I was doing all I could to contain my tears while on the phone with them. It’s just that I want this to be over with. I was finally pulling everything together, moving on, happy that my body was recovering and that we could move on. I’m just tired. … Ugh. Oh. I just want it to be over with.

***

The bleeding has slowed down again. I haven’t filled a pad since that first one an hour or so ago. … I’m … tired, sad, sore, tired of everything. Worried. Terrified that it will take us a long time to get pregnant again. That if I get pregnant again, I’ll lose it again. That if I get prgnant again after that, I’ll lose it again. Just want to be done. So done.

 

Saturday 19 September 2009

With the ultrasound yesterday, the tech found still just a bit more tissue in there, but … she couldn’t say how much longer I should expect to bleed. A few minutes after we left the hospital, Dr. A called me and let me know that he had slots of time open all afternoon if I wanted to come in and talk to him. He said he was sorry that I was still bleeding heavily, and I explained that the bleeding had tapered off again after … I called the other day. He was very surprised by that and asked me what I wanted to do. He said we could schedule a D&C for next week but then if the bleeding stopped over the weekend, we could cancel the D&C.

I was tired of the running around … (I had already had blood drawn for the Hcg levels and gone and had this ultrasound after having the bleeding the day before, and I was tired), so I said I wanted to see how the weekend went and then give him a call on Monday. He said he’d be in the office all day Monday and he’d be sure to set aside time for me to come in … and that, obviously, I’d been dealing with this for days, so he wanted me to do what I felt like. So he reminded me that if I started bleeding heavily over the weekend, I should go directly to the ER and that if I kept experiencing period-like bleeding over the weekend, if I wanted it to just be over with, we could get a D&C done.

So that’s where we’re at. I don’t really want to get a D&C, because there’s a slightly higher risk of infection, but the longer I go without losing everything naturally, I think the higher a risk of infection I have. So I’m darned if I do, darned if I don’t. At least with Medicaid, a D&C will be covered (I think). I’ll find out on Monday when I go see Dr. A.

 

Wednesday 23 September 2009

On Saturday, I experienced another bout of somewhat heavy bleeding. … It was enough. I decided that I would meet with Dr. A … to schedule [a D&C] for sometime in the week. Meanwhile, I prayed that the bleeding would just stop over the weekend so I wouldn’t have to worry about any of it.

By Monday morning, the bleeding was down to spotting. I made an appointment for that afternoon with Dr. A. When … he asked how the bleeding was, … I explained that it had nearly stopped. He was relieved and seemed happy. … He explained that the problem with ultrasounds is that blood clots can sometimes be confused with a placenta, so he hesitates to do a D&C if it’s not clearly placenta but, of course, the woman is in control.

Dr. A asked if it would be okay if we signed consent papers for a D&C, just in case the bleeding would start heavily again this week and I would want to get in quickly for a D&C to get everything over with. I agreed very quickly. … Best to be prepared just in case. …

The blood clots are numerous, but very, very small. I really want them to be done. I’m tired of wearing freaking pantyliners and maxipads…I’ve been wearing them for about 5 weeks now, since the bleeding started regularly. Dr. A also suggested that we wait to have one period before we start trying to conceive. If only I could stop bleeding so I can bleed again in about 4 weeks.

 

Sunday 27 September 2009

On Friday, morning/early afternoon, while I was grocery shopping, I felt myself passing some blood and blood clots. … In the restroom, I breathed a sigh of relief. … I saw that I had pased about 4 or 5 quarter-sized bloodclots. As I passed the children’s and baby’s section of the store, I almost broke down. And there were so many women with their babies and families there with toddlers. It was rough for me to be shopping alone right after that. …

Last night and this morning when I got up, the bleeding had nearly stopped. I was excited, but still reserved, remembering the history of this. A few minutes later, while I was starting coffee, I felt more pass. I rushed to grab a new pair of underwear, a pad, and my clothes to get dressed. I had completely soaked half the pad. I sat on the toilet and kept wiping. A small—but steady—stream of blood kept coming out, with an occasional blood clot. I wiped away three or four half-dollar sized clots and numerous tiny blodclots. I am disappointed, to say the least. I have prayed this week that my body will be healed and cleansed so we can move on. I have prayed that Mike and I will be made parents soon. …

Yesterday, Mike said he was so sad that he just couldn’t do anything. He was lying in bed and trying to get me to come back to bed. He wanted all the physical attention he always wants, but I couldn’t give it; I had too much to do. But I convinced him to try to get up and get moving. A few minutes later, he was taking the recyclables out. … Next thing I knew, he was stomping the plastics pile down and throwing … recyclables all over the garage. I walked over and started to clean up after him. He went back inside, and I finished cleaning up. Then I went back in and sat with him, and he said he was just pissed. He said he was too pissed to do anything right. …

I told [him] there was nothing I could do for him, rather brusquely, unfortunately, went into the garage, and sat down and cried. I prayed for help, for Mike to be helped, for us as a whole, to be helped.

Yes, I’m disappointed, I had been praying for cleansing and healing. Although finally finishing passing everything IS cleansing because it keeps happening and has been happening for so long, I’m worried that I’m not healing. But I still hold out hope. I prayed yesterday for Mike and I to be healed, and I gave myself over to the supreme deity for help. I may fail, I know, but I am trying to give myself over.

I am certainly afraid for Mike, as his headaches are picking up again, he has these bouts of sadness, the bouts of anger, and the nearly incessant need for physical contact. I love him, and I want to help him and give him all his attention. But I need it too.

 

Tuesday 29 September 2009

Okay, here’s the story of what has happened in the past couple of days. … Details may be a little out of order, given the nature of things.

On Sunday evening, … I felt that all-too-familiar rush of fluid between my legs that signaled that I needed to get to the restroom and change my pads. When I got to the toilet, … I felt a blood clot pass. And blood started dripping. It just wouldn’t stop. I could hear it dripping steadily, a little stream, into the toilet bowl. It wasn’t reminiscent of a river, like the doc told me to keep an eye out for, but it was steady and unceasing. I sat there, wiping, dabbing, daubing, until my legs went numb. I worked my way through a full roll of toilet paper.

Finally, I realized I had to stand, or I wouldn’t be able to. I hurriedly stood, making sure to get the pad in place so I could walk around and wash my hands (which were, of course, pretty messy by this time). I flushed the toilet and saw something that looked different from all the other blood clots I had passed, plus the red in the bowl was darker than any I’d seen since the first night of big bleeding I had. … I realized I had passed the placenta. I flushed the toilet and washed my hands and felt that familiar gush…yup, blood clots that would surely flood my pad and panties.

So I spun around to the toilet again. And the trickling continued. But at least my leg was awake again. I asked Mike to bring me my glass of water, because I knew I would need to stay hydrated. This had the feel of a long one. My lips started to kind of tingle. … I finished that glass of water and asked [Mike] for a refill. The tingling in my lips stopped. I was starting to feel nauseous off and on, but I didn’t know if that was because of the blood loss, the water I had basically chugged, [or] the distress I was feeling (C’mon, can’t we be done with this, already? It’s been weeks! I’m tired of bleeding, and I want to move on. I’ve already prayed for healing and a “clean out.”). Realizing that this may be the very “clean out” I had prayed for, I calmed down and continued cleaning.

The bag in the trash can was full. I had gone through another roll of toilet paper. Mike brought more [toilet paper] and gave me another bag to put in the trash can. I started getting dizzy and felt filthy. The smell of everything reminded me of a wet dog…not at all pleasant. I wanted to shower. I had tried getting up a couple of other times, but each time, I felt the surge of a clot and had to sit down almost immediately. Finally, I decided to try to shower to clean myself up. I walked around long enough to get some towels and some fresh clothes, then got into the shower. I discovered that standing in the shower made me feel a little less dizzy…at least for a while. I rinsed off but discovered that the mess was only getting worse because, although things were now draining into a drain, they were also falling onto a hard surface and splattering. And, if anything, I was bleeding more rather than less.

I turned off the shower and stood there, trying to figure out what to do next. I began trying to wash the streams of blood off my legs by using the sink. I stood in the shower and leaned against the countertop while rinsing the washcloth, but I soon wondered if that yellow washcloth would ever be yellow again. I asked Mike to bring more washcloths. … I alternately stood and leaned, rinsed and cleaned, making no progress. Finally, I told Mike we needed to go to the hospital. I told him he needed to get a trash bag and two towels for me to sit on when we went because I knew I would bleed through pad, panties, and pants. He gathered those while I tried to figure out how the hell to get myself cleaned up enough to walk through the house without tracking blood everywhere. Already, the toilet had bloodspots all over it, the floor had a few, the sink was filled with bloody water, and the shower had spatters and a pile of blood clots that I had pulled off the washcloth to better rinse it. While I kind of panicked, trying to figure out what the hell to do, Mike threw some clothes in a duffel bag, along with some pads, some extra towels, a couple cans of Coke, and some saltines. I asked him to make sure to grab my planner because it had all the dates of all my bleeds and doctors’ visits and such. Finally, I had him get me a new pair of panties, and I threw them on with a new pad, then tried to wipe the blood streaks off my legs as much as possible. I didn’t even try to clean my feet. I knew that would be pointless.

Finally, we were off. We got to the hospital right before 11:30. I had started bleeding around 9:30. I started giving the admissions people my information, and … they started the process to get me a quick check-in, and I had to visit the restroom. Mike gave them information and I went to the public restroom and then made a mess there. If cleaning up massive amounts of blood is difficult with super-absorbent Charmin, it’s damn near impossible with the tissue-paper-like stuff they put in public restrooms. I had bled through my pants, but there was nothing I could do about that. I changed pads and tried to wipe the excess blood and blood clots from my thighs. I flushed the toilet three or four times to try to flush down all the paper I had used.

I heard a knock on the door and, “Stephie? You almost done?” I tried to wash up and clean the blood off the toilet seat as best I could, washed my hands, closed up the duffel bag, and stepped out. I was led to an interview room of sorts and asked to sit down. I gave some information, all the while feeling horribly uncomfortable because I could feel blood clots and blood passing alarmingly fast. After getting the immediate information from me, the admissions nurse led Mike to the desk to get me completely admitted and then led me to a room.

As she led me to a room, I saw a little boy on a bed, attached to monitors, while his dad sat next to him. I prayed for that little boy. And I prayed for Mike to have the strength to deal with all this. People and stress [have] never been his peak operating situation. I was led into my room and given a gown and sheet, and a couple of bed pads were laid out for me. The nurse left, telling me to change there and lie down and relax, and asked if I needed anything. I asked if I could have something to drink because I was very, very thirsty. She said we’d better hold off, in case they wanted to do a D&C that night, because they didn’t want me to have something and then aspirate. As soon as she left, I felt another huge clot pass, and I said, “Shit.” I knew it was going to be bad when I took my pants off. Sure enough, as soon as the pants came down, a huge clot fell, and blood splattered all over the floor. I felt terrible, but there was nothing I could do about it. I just hurried to get onto the bed and onto those pads as quickly as I could.

A few moments later, the ER nurse came in. I warned her as soon as she opened the door that there was a mess. I apologized, of course, knowing it was stupid to apologize, but she understood. She got everything cleaned up and told me that she wouldn’t need chemicals like on CSI: to know that blood had been there. I laughed a little. She introduced herself as Pam and talked to me to help me kind of calm down. I was upset more by all the mess than the situation, honestly. Crazy what we focus on when we’re upset. She told me that she had had a miscarriage, too, and said, “Guess how many daughters I have now?” Then she raised a hand with all fingers spread wide and mouthed, “Five.” The whole time we talked, she kept telling me she was glad she was there for me, glad that God had sent her to help me that night. I was, too.

Finally, Mike came in, and we talked. All the while, I felt blood and clots passing and filling up the area between my legs. Pam told us the doctor would be in in a bit. All the while, bleeding. Some of the first blood I had passed once I had laid on the bed started to dry, and it was becoming uncomfortable. The ER doc came in and chatted with me and said he didn’t feel we were in a big hurry to have a D&C, and I agreed, because we all pretty much thought this was my body’s final push to get everything out and wrap up this miscarriage. He was going to call my doc, he said, and would have someone from the lab come in and draw some blood. He saw no reason for me to not have some water, because if a D&C was going to be done, it wouldn’t be until the next morning. He stepped out, then walked back in a minute later with a glass of water and a straw. Bless him.

Not long after, Pam and a lady from the lab came in. I think I had just remarked to Mike that my lips were tingling again. The lady from the lab started telling me what she was going to do, [and] Pam, about the blood pressure measurements they were about to take. I started feeling really hot, and I couldn’t breathe right while I was trying to talk to them. Everything went out. I think I heard someone say I was passing out. The next thing I know, I was being wheeled across the hallway into a room and they were getting me hooked up to saline. Mike was standing beside me, looking very freaked out. I kept telling him I was okay, I was all right. I looked at the clock. It was about 12:15, I think.

They got me stabilized, and I kept telling Mike I was okay. But I was covered in sweat, I was burning up. Mike had to calm down, [and he] signaled [to] me to not say anything. His adrenaline had kicked in when he saw me pass out, and now he was coming down from the high, feeling a little nauseous. The doc came in to make sure everything was okay, then he and Pam stepped out for a bit.

A couple of minutes later, after Mike was mostly calm, Pam stepped back in to do my three blood pressure measurements and said the ER doc was going to do a vaginal exam. They started getting things set up, and I told Mike not to look, because I knew there was so much blood and [so many] clots that he would be upset and worried. The doc had come in, and Mike made a comment about the blood clots looking like Jell-o jigglers, and I told him at least he didn’t have to eat the placenta. Then we heard Pam say, “WHAT did you just say?” The doc was kind of laughing, and so was I. I told Pam that a lot of cultures eat the placenta after it’s passed because it’s a good way to regain nutrients lost in childbirth. She said we had nearly made her vomit. M, the doc, and I were all laughing. This woman had barely batted an eye when she saw my blood all over the floor, and she had told me a couple of disgusting things she’s seen in the ER after I had kept apologizing for all the mess I was making, and then she nearly vomited at hearing about something like eating a placenta. Yup, I have to cause trouble wherever I go.

After the exam, the doc said it looked like there was just a little more blood left and that I could go home or stay the night up in OB before my doc checked me out the next morning. Mike and I decided we’d rather I stay, just to be on the safe side. We had quite a bit of time alone while they made the arrangements to have me moved. I had Mike call my mom and dad to let them know what was going on, and then he called his mom. Then we had a little while longer to talk. He said he thought he had lost me…said one minute I was there, and then I just “wasn’t there anymore.” I promised him I hadn’t gone anywhere, I had been praying for the little boy across the way and for M. He told me I should have been praying for myself. I assured him that I had been. In all my short moments alone in every room, I had prayed my thanks and prayed for help. I told him God was taking care of me and that I hadn’t gone anywhere…I had just passed out. I told him that, to save his feelings, I wouldn’t even make a joke about how I was disappointed that I hadn’t had an out-of-body experience.

Pam came in and put me in another gown, cleaned up the bed, took me off the saline, etc. Around 1:30, they finally started wheeling me up to the third floor, to OB. As she wheeled me around, Pam kept telling me that she thought Mike was a keeper. I told her we’d been together long enough that I was pretty sure I was going to keep him around.

We got up to my room and then the OB nurses helped me to the toilet, gave me a lovely set of fishnet panties and a gi-normous “mommy pad.” As I sat there, they cleaned my legs and feet up with washcloths. … They put me in bed and started … asking me all sorts of questions about my health. After about 20 minutes, I started feeling a little nauseous. I was hot and had Mike turn on the fan. My lips started tingling. But I was lying down. I asked if I could use the restroom, so one of the nurses helped me. I was really starting to not feel good again, so I asked if that new batch of saline was coming anytime soon. It was about 2:00 AM. … I was yawning, in addition to starting to dim. I needed fluids, and I wasn’t allowed to drink. I kept dropping hints. Finally, they got me hooked up to saline and finished asking me questions. They took my vitals and told me I had to push the call button anytime I had to use the restroom. Mike was not allowed to help me, because I “like to pass out.” I jokingly said that was only one time and I wouldn’t do it again. One of the nurses said her son likes to tell her he won’t do things again and then he always does, so she didn’t trust me. I laughed a little and said, “But it was the first time, the only time, in my life that I’ve passed out, I promise.” Then they left us alone. It was about 20 minutes to 3.

I was still hot, so the fan stayed on me. Everyone else was freezing. Mike stretched out on the chair/bed next to my bed, and he nearly froze. Every time I drifted off to sleep, I had a bit of trouble breathing and woke up. I was a little freaked out. I was worried about passing out again. Finally, around 4:30, I was able to breathe normally and [slept] for 10 or 15 minutes at a time. …

Around 5:00, I woke up for my next set of vitals. The nurse, as she was helping me to the restroom, said that they had been down to the ER and that Pam and the doc had been asking about me and talking about Mike, saying that he was a real keeper. I laughed, and the nurse told me that they see a lot of people in the ER, a lot of different types, and Mike had impressed them, as much as he had doted on me. Yeah, he’s a sweetie.

I got back in bed, fully alert and awake. Mike woke up, too, and we talked a bit. … We watched TV for about an hour. One of the nurses came in to check on me. It was clear that she didn’t approve of me being awake. She said if she were us, she’d be sleeping and resting. … She walked out, still kind of disapprovingly. Turns out it was a good thing I was awake, because about 5 minutes after that, a lady from the lab came in to take some samples that they hadn’t been able to get while I was in the ER. She was there until about 20 after 6, and then I was exhausted and went back to sleep.

 

Thursday 1 October 2009

Dr. A came in around 8 Monday morning and asked if I still wanted to do a D&C. When I said I did, he explained the risks and probabilities and had me sign a new consent form, then explained that because it wasn’t an emergency surgery, they’d fit me in whenever they could, probably around lunchtime. That sounded fine to me. …

Around 8:45, Mike took off to take care of the cats. … Plus, Mike wanted to clean the bathroom up (we had left it a mess in our rush to leave) and maybe get some sleep. He left, telling me to call him when I was done with surgery and he’d come to get me. I made a couple of phone calls to reschedule appointments and notify my parents of what was going on, etc. Then I took the opportunity to nap as much as I could.

I think it was around 11:00 when I heard a knock on the door and a woman’s voice say, “Time to wake up. No more sleeping!” I looked to the door and saw a short, kind of squarish, nun come in. She smiled beautifully and introduced herself as Sister Lucille. She asked how I was doing and if I was getting good care. I told her the care I had been receiving was wonderful. … Then she told me to bundle up and go back to sleep because it was very cold and very windy outside. (I was confused, because I could have sworn it was her voice that had told me, not a minute before, that it was time to stop sleeping…) I told her I was surprised to see it cold and windy because it had been a beautiful, sunny morning last time I had looked out the window. Then she left, and as soon as she closed the room door behind her, I noticed the smell of honeysuckle. My whole room smelled like honeysuckle just long enough for me to get two or three full breaths of it.

At that point, I was fully awake again, so I started making some notes to myself. Around 11:20, a couple of ladies came in to tell me they were from surgery and were taking me downstairs. I called Mike to let him know, and he told me to call when I got out. …

I got wheeled down to the hall next to the OR and placed in the hallway across from the anesthesiologist’s office. I commented that it was kind of chilly in the hallway, so a nurse covered me with a warm blanket. … It was heavenly. I was introduced to the nurses and the anesthesiologist, was asked if I knew why I was there and what to expect and if I had any questions, was asked to indicate and sign a form about my preference for blood transfusion if it seemed necessary, and was told we’d be going whenever Dr. A got there. I lay awake for a bit, listening to the lunchtime conversations going on around me, and then drifted off to sleep. After a while, I woke up, and the anesthesiologist came by to apologize for the long wait, saying he didn’t know what was keeping Dr. A. I said that was fine, I was just using the opportunity to nap, anyway. (I figured that would keep me calm so I couldn’t be awake and worry and obsess.) I fell asleep again, and then one of the nurses came by to say that Dr. A had just called and said he would be right there. I drifted off again, and then Dr. A was there, explaining everything to me again, asking if I had any questions … and asking if Mike was there. I explained that Mike had gone home and needed a call when everything was done, so he took M’s number, and they started wheeling me toward the OR. …

Just as the foot of my bed entered the doorway into the OR, a nurse picked up the phone and said that my husband was asking for me [from my hospital room]. I wondered just HOW long the surgery had been delayed. … I told him I was JUST being wheeled in. … So Mike stayed put in my room in OB. It was about 1 PM.

They wheeled me into the OR, introduced me, had me move over to the operating table, stretched my right arm out onto a support board, told me they’d be putting out a board for my left arm, and told me they were putting an oxygen mask on my face. I had long enough to say a silent prayer and take two breaths of oxygen, and I was out. Oxygen, my ass. I figured when they put the mask down that there was anesthesia in it, but DAMN, that was fast!

Next thing I know, I’m waking up and can barely move anything. The words “damn Mack truck” kept chasing themselves around in my brain, along with a little snort of laughter. I started moving body parts experimentally, noticing the stiffness in my toes, the heaviness in my eyelids, the inability of my head to move up or down without great pain. I listened to the nurse [who was] watching me [as she made] calls [to find] cheap hotel reservations to a 4-star hotel in Chicago. I listened to another nurse complain about how she couldn’t get the DVD that came with a new piece of equipment to play in her computer. I wanted to ask her what kind of problems she was having, and I heard someone say something about PDFs. I couldn’t say anything yet. I listened to two of the nurses tell another one that she should just go home, as there was nothing else going on that day. I listened to them talk about bringing in food for the next day and calling another woman to remind her that it was her turn. …

I kept stretching and moving slowly, “testing the waters,” as it were. I heard a nurse ask me if I wanted some more pain medication, and I managed to indicate my assent. Then I felt my legs cramp. The nurse was out of my line of sight, and I started hitting the rails of the bed with my arms. I couldn’t talk. I could only whimper, and finally managed to get out “legs…cramping.” The nurse made it back just about then and injected the pain med and said something like, “We warned you about the leg cramps, but you never can quite prepare for them.” Meanwhile, I was, rather mean-spiritedly, thinking, No one told me about any damn leg cramps. Unless it was after I was already under the anesthesia. I would have remembered talk of leg cramps. Stupid freaking leg cramps. But by this time, I had felt the rather unpleasant tingling surge as the pain medicine was injected through my IV and then the blessed release of my leg muscles. There, that’s better.

I saw a clock. I remember the minute hand was on the 8, but I can’t remember much more about that. I asked the nurse how long I had been in recovery. She told me … I had been in recovery about 30 minutes….

I spent the next few minutes … continually moving and stretching legs, fingers, toes, neck, etc., until I could move in just about every direction—but still couldn’t move my head up or down—that would lead to nasty pains. Turns out that’s because I had had a tube down my throat. The nurse gave me some ice chips at intervals. … Oh, God, those ice chips felt good after not having water for more than 12 hours! Every time she offered, I managed to croak, “yes, please,” and then “thank you.” I even managed to request ice of my own accord once or twice. …

After a while longer (who knows how long? I was mostly “conscious” but [was] focused largely internally at that point), I was wheeled back up to my room, where Mike was waiting, apparently rather nervously. The OB nurse asked if I wanted food or juice or water, and I said just ice. My throat wouldn’t allow for anything more than that, I was pretty sure. She brought some ice chips, and I was happy for about an hour. We were watching some food show on the travel channel, though, and I was getting hungry. Very hungry. Where in the world is she now that I’m hungry? I thought. I got up to use the restroom and walk around the room a bit. Mike still had some saltines, so I requested a couple of those from him and that he get me some more ice. By this point, he knew where to find everything on the floor. Finally, the nurse came and asked if I was ready for dinner. Oh, hallelujah!

She brought that plate of food in, and it looked heavenly. There was even iced tea! …

About an hour after eating, I was free to go, with my three prescriptions. … I was in track pants, a blue patterned t-shirt, slip-on shoes that I use for garden work, and a flannel shirt that was green, pink, and yellow. I wore no bra (I was too sore to even try to struggle with that). My hair, which hadn’t been touched since just before we left Sunday night for the hospital, was everywhere, without even the benefit of the headband that I had been wearing while exercising on Sunday night. I hadn’t bathed since Sunday morning, and my teeth hadn’t been brushed since Sunday morning. Boy, I must have been beautiful! We got to the pharmacy at, apparently, the peak of the Monday-night pharmacy rush after everyone got off of work. I knew I wasn’t pretty, but I didn’t care. We were in line to get my meds, because they had been called in hours before, and we gave them the Medicaid information, so we had to wait while they ran everything through the system. We turned to sit in the chairs near the pick-up line, and I saw a woman giving me a bit of a nasty glance, as though offended that I couldn’t have dressed normally to come out in public. I returned her gaze coolly, sat down, and reached under the sleeve of my flannel to make sure my hospital bling was showing. I didn’t give a shit what she thought, but I figured the bracelets might keep other people from giving me more judgmental glances and causing me to offend them by laughing at their shocked faces. Yes, I had laughed at that lady, and even whispered to Mike about the look she had given me.

We finally got home, and … slept for about 14 hours. I fought off a headache all day on Tuesday and sat in the dark, watching a DVD. … Then I napped a little later in the afternoon to get rid of the headache, which I assumed was hanging out because of the aftereffects of anesthesia and the tube down my throat, because my neck muscles were still a little stiff and made me feel like I had been clenching my teeth. I got up and did a little more work, journaled, and went to bed as the headache neared epic proportions again.