On Monday I had a horrible death stomach flu/food poisoning/ bowel disruptor episode. It was gross and unfortunate.
I passed out that night, in my bathroom. Which is the classiest place to pass out.
Travis called an ambulance to rescue me because every time I sat up I got tweety birds floating around my head.
Back boards SUCK and HURT.
I had to listen to my baby cry for me as I was hauled out of my house.
The ambulance and ER staff were all very nice. They seemed to share in obsessing over the question every woman hears when dealing with health care professionals: Could you be pregnant?
I assured them that, no, I can’t be. Still bleeding from my last period. Thanks for asking about my girl junk, but my SPINE is the issue right now.
After some Zofran, some Phenergan, some Morphine, and some x-rays we find out I’m not broken just strained. (Story of my life.)
The sweet nurse comes to check on me and “Hey, your labs are back! Has the doc talked to you about them yet? No? Well, I shouldn’t say anything BUT CONGRATULATIONS you’re PREGNANT!”
And I didn’t feel happy. Not for one second. I was already bleeding. I had been cramping for days. I knew that I wasn’t going to have a baby.
An ultrasound showed no gestational sac or signs of ectopic pregnancy. My hormone levels were ridiculously low.
With a prescription for zofran and another for lortab and a recommendation to see my regular doctor for follow up, I was discharged in the wee hours of Tuesday morning.
Tuesday is a haze of pain pills, barfing, and exhaustion.
Wednesday I wake up to horrible cramping and a lot of blood. More pain pills. A doctors appointment with an asshole of an OB/GYN to confirm the miscarriage.
He does not offer condolences. He does not ask if I’m okay. He does not ask about my pain or bleeding. He does not ask if the pregnancy was planned or a surprise. I am nothing to him.
Thursday morning I get a phone call from the OB letting me know my hormone levels are even lower, confirming the miscarriage. All my other labs were normal, so no signs of infection.
He didn’t ask if my bleeding was better or worse. Didn’t ask about my pain. Didn’t care. Not his problem. Call him for another appointment after I take a home pregnancy test in a week, but only if it’s still positive.
Oh, and HEY! I can start “trying for another” whenever “I’m feeling up to it”.
Hey, doctor, fuck you.