Last April, we were told we were pregnant. (I'd had another miscarriage a couple of years before with GW, but we really weren't prepared for a pregnancy at the time anyway.) We were so excited, as this was only the 2nd cycle we'd been offically "trying". It was a little sooner than we'd anticipated success, but there it was. I had told GW about my past miscarriages, and I was quite frankly, terrified of another one.
All seemed to be going well. I was peeing every 5 minutes, getting sick, my boobs felt like they were enormous and on fire, and I was exhausted.
And then it all stopped. My symptoms went away. This had happened before. I knew it wasn't good, but everyone tried to reassure me that all would be well. We took TJ out to his restuarant of choice for his birthday. After I finished my dinner, I went to the restroom. I was spotting. I went back to the table, and quietly told GW that after they were done eating, we needed to go to the hospital. I went out to the car and waited for them to be done.
In the ER, they took a blood test. My hcg levels were appallingly low. 400-something. The doctor told us he was sorry, he didn't think this was a viable pregnancy. My first appointment, at 8 weeks, had been scheduled for the next day. The nurse advised us to go in early, as my level of care had drastically changed. We went an hour early. I showed the receptionist the papers I had been given at the ER the night before. I was sent for an ultrasound, and more bloodwork. There was nothing to see on U/S. Just nothing there at all but a little spot. My hcg had gone up a little, so after consulting with one of the OB's, we decided to wait, and have my levels checked again in a few days.
What followed was 2 weeks of hell, which I simply cannot detail. Most of it is a blur. We slept little, ate less, and cried a lot. My hcg levels kept going up, but far too slowly to mean anything good. After 2 weeks, they had only reached 860. We finally decided to end it. We decided on a D&C so that they could analyze anything they found. I needed to know why I couldn't carry. There were no physical reasons that I shouldn't be able to.
The cytotec they gave me before did not work to dilate me, and I had to be manually dilated for the procedure. I was screaming and I nearly passed out from the pain. But when it was over, it was over. I was sore, but not in nearly as much pain as I had been for the last 2 weeks with all the cramping. The next day, the OB who had done the D&C, Dr. M, called me to check up on how I was doing. I was so surprised that he actually cared enough to call.
When I recieved a call from him the next day, the news was bad. The lab hadn't found anything. I needed to come in for a shot of methotrexate. Since they couldn't find anything in the sample, it was assumed I had an ectopic pregnancy. I questioned this, because I know there was something in the "sample". I had asked to look at it, and it looked much like the tissue I had passed with my other m/c's.
We went to the hospital, where I recieved the worst treatment I have ever had in my entire life. The resident on-call said that she never heard of me, never heard of my OB, and that I was obviously lying. WHAT? I sat in the ER crying, and listening to her argue with the triage nurse. When the resident had gone, the triage nurse called me over again, and apologised for the resident's behavior. It was the first time I ever heard a medical professional swear. She called her a bitch, and tried to get someone else that could help me. She spoke to the L&D department head, who bitched out the resident.
Said resident came back with her tail between her legs, and was much nicer. Not that I wanted to see her, I just didn't have a choice at this point. They stuck us in OR recovery- there were no available rooms anywhere else. So all I had was a curtain. I asked for another hcg count before getting the shot, as Dr. M had told me to do, to see if I really needed it. The results never came back, just a nurse with the shot.
The horrible thing was, the nurse was pregnant. I was a mess.
We waited for over an hour after that for the resident to come back. Finally, we told the staff we were leaving. TJ was home alone, and it was already 10 pm. If there was anything else they needed to tell us, they could call. On our way home, the resident called us. She asked why we had left, and I told her. She said she'd send my discharge papers and information about ectopic pregnancy in the mail. I asked her what the hcg count had been. She told me it was 240. I was livid. The day of my D&C, it had been 860. Which meant there was something there. The lab had fucked up. I hadn't needed the shot after all.
Early the next morning, Dr. M called. He apologised about 10,000 times for what had happened the night before, none of which was actually his fault, and I didn't blame him for any of it. The lab was re-checking the sample, the resident was now on "administrative leave" for her behavior in the ER, and I did not need to worry about having an ectopic. He wanted me to come in for another blood check in a week, and to try to relax. If I ran out of any of my pain meds, to come in and get some more, he'd gladly give them to me. I was also specifically instructed to avoid becoming pregnant, because he wanted to do a full multipule-loss workup on me, which he'd discuss further when I came in next week. A woman my age shouldn't have so many problems staying pregnant. I told him that, honestly, sex was the last thing on my mind.
I didn't know it then, but I had found my VBAC OB.
No comments:
Post a Comment
I <3 comments :)