In other news... I am pregnant again. (another legitimate reason for turning down the job... (excuse me while I continue to try and justify it to myself) I say again not only because we have a 16 month old, he himself was an "again" at the time (back story to come) But, because I was pregnant a couple of months ago. Not to be, however. With no heartbeat at 8 weeks it was time to schedule the D&C and hope for better luck next time.
Currently we are coming up on our 8 week mark, heart beating strong this time. But... and there is always a big but, Simone... At the moment I am lounging around the house recovering from emergency surgery that almost took one of my ovaries. Weeee!!!
Sit back and enjoy...
Monday morning I started to feel cramps. I had a feeling something wasn't right so I called my doc. We were scheduled to see her later in the day for an ultrasound but, I thought maybe we should move it up to see what was going on in there.
She is my fertility doc, for this pregnancy we had a little help from her in the form of Follistim, which is a shot in belly once a day to promote egg development and ovulation.
Anywoo, the cramps weren't terrible but, odd none the less. By the time we got in the car I was in excruciating pain. R. was screaming at me from his car seat and Dave was speeding up the 101 towards the doc's office which is conveniently located on Hospital grounds. I was sure it was a second, ectopic pregnancy that they didn't catch at my last ultrasound and was now about to burst.
We make it up to her office and they get me on the table, ultrasound probe inserted at lightening speed. There, taking up most of the screen, is my ginormous tomato sized ovary full of about 6 huge cysts. Oh, there's also still a baby, so, ya know... yay!
I was now wailing in pain. The doc thought my ovary might also be twisted so, she manually tried to turn it... um... ouch. At one point she had me on my hands and knees, ass in the air, as she came at me again with the ultrasound probe, (R. was getting a great lesson in anatomy by the way) she said sometimes that was a better angle to get the ovary to turn or go back into place. It wasn't working. I was now throwing up from the pain.
It was a group effort to get me back into my clothes and into a wheelchair. I was then whisked across the parking lot to the hospital. Feeling every pebble and crack in the pavement like knives into my side. Here, I had to endure yet another ultrasound with a better machine so they could confirm if it was in fact twisted. If it wasn't, my doc could aspirate the ovarian cysts without having to operate, but if it was, I would have to have laparoscopic surgery which, of course you would want to avoid if you're pregnant just like sushi or let's say a punch to the gut. Well, the pain was just getting worse as everyone was deciding what to do with me.
Finally the nurse who was doing the ultrasound had the gumption to suggest I needed to go to the ER immediately. Hmmm... ya think? Clothes back on, back in wheelchair, screaming down hallways, into the ER which I think I quickly cleared out with my presence. There is so much ridiculous red tape at hospitals, it's amazing people don't die just waiting to fill out the paperwork, actually, I'm sure they probably do. I mean, come on, are they really worried that I'm going to hop up out of my bed, post op, rip out my IV and catheter and race out pig and peel like?
Apparently, they had no beds in the ER. Now, both Dave and my doc's nurse, who was with us the whole time, were yelling at them to get me in for pain meds asap. Well, thanks, it had only now been 4 hours of gut wrenching, vomit inducing, dare I point out, possibly uterus voiding pain.
Finally the doors flew open and I was helped onto a gurney. IV's were put in as Dave was verbally consenting to whatever they asked. And, finally, finally some meds were pumped into me. They had to give me about 4 doses one after the other as it kept wearing off almost as soon as it went into my IV.
Before I knew it, my doc was at my bedside telling us the possible complications of the surgery she was about to perform. Also, to let me know that she was going to have to keep me awake until the last minute to minimize the time under anesthesia because of the pregnancy. So, I had to lay there while they prepped me, catheterised me etc. I guess piling it on at this point was fine. Finally, they put me out. I woke up about an hour later in my hospital room without that horrible pain, but with a few more holes in stomach than I went in with
We were later told that my ovary was twisted around three times and had slipped under my uterus and was stuck there. That it was black and blue and if we hadn't done the surgery when we did, I would have lost it. After undoing the damage, she said it turned back to a healthy pink. She then aspirated the cysts and took a turn at my left ovary with the aspirator while she was in there. Yea! A two-fer!
The conclusion was that the cysts were so big that the weight of them pulled my ovary down from it's usual floaty resting position and as I, in my normal activities, got up, sat down, rolled over in my sleep. Pretty much the most I have exerted myself through the sick and tire of my first trimester. The ovary kept getting turned and twisted. Which has now made me afraid to move, pretty much for fear that it will happen again.
And, miraculously, the good news, the baby seems fine.
I spent the next day and a half in the hospital which seemed more like a M.A.S.H unit or 1800's TB ward, as there was screaming and moaning coming from various parts of my floor all night. It was quite spooky to say the least. I barely slept and kept my finger on my nurses call button under the covers all night. It didn't help that I was woken each time I did manage to doze off by a blood pressure cuff squeezing my arm and a thermometer being shoved in my mouth. After which, it never failed, the nurse would forget to close my door on the way out. I was still catheterized so couldn't get out of bed myself and felt it too petty a reason to call a nurse when clearly they had so much more to deal with.
I guess I could wait it out, I was now quite good at it.