Our holiday was coming to an end fast. One of the days I had a call from a nurse in my private health scheme, she was following up on my earlier call with regards to the pain in my legs.. I'd actually had a great night's sleep the first night we arrived, even though it was only on a couch bed. Mind you, I was on pain killers and sleeping tablets.. either way it was a reasonably comfy bed.
My legs were still very swollen, tender, hot to the touch but otherwise numb to any feeling apart from pain. I tested this by holding a beer straight out of the fridge (and my husband's hand) and while I felt the icy, biting cold on my hand, my leg felt nothing.
When I lay down was when it was most painful - it was just sharp shooting pain down the side of my thighs and if hubby rolled over and even touched me in the slightest way I would be writing in pain. Except, it hurt to writhe and move so I had to either lie there with teeth clenched waiting for it to subside as much as it could or I had to get up and walk it off.
The mattress sort of dipped a bit too, so I'd normally wake up finding I'd rolled into hubby or vice versa and it was an awkward stalemate of pain - trying to figure out how I could get out of this mess with the least amount of pain.
Walking wasn't too bad - it felt like I had bowling balls sitting where my thigh muscles were but it wasn't as painful as the week before where it was burning, constant numbness and pain. At least twice on holiday I slept on the relly's recliner. I don't think they noticed. If they did, they didn't mention it. I struggled to put enough force in my legs without hurting them to close the reclining part but found sitting up somewhat helped with the pain.
I'd also had a bit of bleeding - light at the start of the week but towards the end of the week it got significantly heavier. My tummy was a bit crampy so I assumed it was my period, because the Ob/Gyn warned me it would probably happen in 2/3 weeks.
Anyway, the point I was getting to was, that like my husband and I - the nurse was a bit concerned as to why I had the swelling/pain still. I had done everything I could think of - I had seen a GP, gone to the physio (it had felt like a worse version of some nerve pain I'd had before) contacted the private health fund nurse and spoken to the ob/gyn about it. I was wearing the DET stockings post surgery, and resting but also moving around like the hospital nurses told me to.
I had been a bit concerned that I could be at a higher risk of DVT but more than that.. painkillers normally work great on me because I hardly use them, only once when I had my wisdom teeth and occasionally for a terrible migraine or exceptionally painful period. These ones did seemingly nothing but dull it a tiny bit.
The nurse urged me to see another GP before flying home, so off I dutifully went. This doctor recommended an MRI to ensure it wasn't an underlying back problem. The doctor also advised me that Medicare would cover it. So, if a doctor ever tells you that... double check it because doctors don't know shite about MRI/radiology billing. Thankfully, I was only charged $150 because I didn't need the dye, otherwise it would have been around $200.
Mind you, I did have to get a freakin' X-ray of mine glorious eyeballs because these interstatians had never heard of implantable contact lens, and no matter how much I told them that it was literally a permanent contact lens that was shoved through a tiny hole in my eye, not made of metal and I had had an MRI before on my head.... they didn't believe me. So, fortunately no charge for said X-ray and I demanded a copy so if this ever happened again I could be all "Right, you! Lissen up!'
The X-ray lady was weird. She was like "now turn to the side" so I did and she's like, "no, that's not right." She came over to me and put her cold ass hands on my face and shoulder, turning me on an angle in one direction and twisted up in another while I leaned against some stupid butt pillow on an upright bed looking thing hugging handles on the other side. So, not "to the side" she meant play Twister in the Upside Down. My bad.
I was then sent away again to my tiny cubicle (where I had been waiting quietly, reading my book standing up because my legs hurt) in my barely butt coverin' hospital muu-muu to await the MRI dude. This MRI only took 15 minutes and actually didn't seem as loud as the other MRI I had.
They gave me the squishy panic button but I dropped it accidentally. Didn't matter anyway, I wasn't about to halt the progress of scientific medicine.
The next day I returned to the GP to get the results. The appointment was in the late afternoon - it had been a little bit earlier but I'd rescheduled because hubby's best friend's sister and mother were going to pop in and see us/show off new grandchild and they had been delayed.
We had lunch together, at which point I felt a bit queasy and lost appetite despite being starving an hour before they arrived. I thought maybe I hadn't had enough to drink so I sat down and sipped my way through an electrolyte drink while hubby and Mama Flintstone went to purchase sandwich items. I was left alone with Daughter Flintstone, sleeping newborn bub and Bam Bam, their two year old. (Yeah, I know Bam Bam wasn't the Flintstone's kid but he had certain destructive properties.)
I was bending over to pick up the relly's kid's multiple toys that Bam Bam had bam bam'd his way through (I couldn't crouch or kneel) when Daughter Flintstone asked me if we were planning on having a kid. She'd had to have a cesarean for this latest child and warned me that the older you get, the harder it is on your body. I was just thinking GREAT! Another unneeded reminder! I already know how friggin' hard it is because I couldn't even get one live kid out of me and I'm really suffering physically and emotionally!
Luckily, the useful thing about that family is that they're all a big bunch of talkers. Kind of like wind-up toys, you just set them up with a topic and they just go go go and go. Sometimes I don't even think they register that they sometimes get into one sided conversations, I know they're not shutting me out or deliberately talking over me, they just genuinely like talking.
The other lucky thing was that Daughter Flintstone's phone rang shortly after this. she was like 'I better go, I'm being rude to Lucky Tiger' while I'm in the background mouthing "no, it's fine! You can talk!" I didn't have to answer her question because the phone call provided some more conversation fodder, enough for me to do my chameleon thing in the background.
After this family left, I felt okay. I was watching cartoons with hubby before heading off to the appointment with the GP. This was a different GP, he reminded me of Hank Scorpio from the Simpsons and he was lovely.
Once again I had to go through what had happened and what was going on with my legs and the bleeding. That was a little hard, and I broke down in the office.
That was probably the worst thing about it, every time I have to relate or even think about WHY I have sore legs. I can't get past it or heal while it's still there, punching me in the face. The GP was really kindly but said he didn't know what was going on and recommended we see the emergency ward at a local hospital before boarding the plane the next day. His main concern was that it could be a clot or some other urgent complication.
Danio (sister in law) dropped us off at the GP and we'd taken longer than we expected in the office. Lucky Panda explained (sort of, we didn't mention the miscarriage) what we had to do now and she took us to a nearby hospital without any fuss. Her youngest was in the backseat cheerfully explaining that this is where she went when she was sick recently. In the meantime, Evil had texted Panda about doing something for dinner - being our last night there.
I was trying not to show how upset I was in the car - Danio tried to cheer me up but I just sat there looking out the window with a dramatic tear roll down my face. Why do I always do that? I just close up whenever people try to get near or help me. It's so infuriating - like I know what I'm doing but I can't make myself stop doing it.
Danio dropped us off at the hospital and we settled down for an expected long wait.
My legs were still very swollen, tender, hot to the touch but otherwise numb to any feeling apart from pain. I tested this by holding a beer straight out of the fridge (and my husband's hand) and while I felt the icy, biting cold on my hand, my leg felt nothing.
When I lay down was when it was most painful - it was just sharp shooting pain down the side of my thighs and if hubby rolled over and even touched me in the slightest way I would be writing in pain. Except, it hurt to writhe and move so I had to either lie there with teeth clenched waiting for it to subside as much as it could or I had to get up and walk it off.
The mattress sort of dipped a bit too, so I'd normally wake up finding I'd rolled into hubby or vice versa and it was an awkward stalemate of pain - trying to figure out how I could get out of this mess with the least amount of pain.
Walking wasn't too bad - it felt like I had bowling balls sitting where my thigh muscles were but it wasn't as painful as the week before where it was burning, constant numbness and pain. At least twice on holiday I slept on the relly's recliner. I don't think they noticed. If they did, they didn't mention it. I struggled to put enough force in my legs without hurting them to close the reclining part but found sitting up somewhat helped with the pain.
I'd also had a bit of bleeding - light at the start of the week but towards the end of the week it got significantly heavier. My tummy was a bit crampy so I assumed it was my period, because the Ob/Gyn warned me it would probably happen in 2/3 weeks.
Anyway, the point I was getting to was, that like my husband and I - the nurse was a bit concerned as to why I had the swelling/pain still. I had done everything I could think of - I had seen a GP, gone to the physio (it had felt like a worse version of some nerve pain I'd had before) contacted the private health fund nurse and spoken to the ob/gyn about it. I was wearing the DET stockings post surgery, and resting but also moving around like the hospital nurses told me to.
I had been a bit concerned that I could be at a higher risk of DVT but more than that.. painkillers normally work great on me because I hardly use them, only once when I had my wisdom teeth and occasionally for a terrible migraine or exceptionally painful period. These ones did seemingly nothing but dull it a tiny bit.
The nurse urged me to see another GP before flying home, so off I dutifully went. This doctor recommended an MRI to ensure it wasn't an underlying back problem. The doctor also advised me that Medicare would cover it. So, if a doctor ever tells you that... double check it because doctors don't know shite about MRI/radiology billing. Thankfully, I was only charged $150 because I didn't need the dye, otherwise it would have been around $200.
Mind you, I did have to get a freakin' X-ray of mine glorious eyeballs because these interstatians had never heard of implantable contact lens, and no matter how much I told them that it was literally a permanent contact lens that was shoved through a tiny hole in my eye, not made of metal and I had had an MRI before on my head.... they didn't believe me. So, fortunately no charge for said X-ray and I demanded a copy so if this ever happened again I could be all "Right, you! Lissen up!'
The X-ray lady was weird. She was like "now turn to the side" so I did and she's like, "no, that's not right." She came over to me and put her cold ass hands on my face and shoulder, turning me on an angle in one direction and twisted up in another while I leaned against some stupid butt pillow on an upright bed looking thing hugging handles on the other side. So, not "to the side" she meant play Twister in the Upside Down. My bad.
I was then sent away again to my tiny cubicle (where I had been waiting quietly, reading my book standing up because my legs hurt) in my barely butt coverin' hospital muu-muu to await the MRI dude. This MRI only took 15 minutes and actually didn't seem as loud as the other MRI I had.
They gave me the squishy panic button but I dropped it accidentally. Didn't matter anyway, I wasn't about to halt the progress of scientific medicine.
The next day I returned to the GP to get the results. The appointment was in the late afternoon - it had been a little bit earlier but I'd rescheduled because hubby's best friend's sister and mother were going to pop in and see us/show off new grandchild and they had been delayed.
We had lunch together, at which point I felt a bit queasy and lost appetite despite being starving an hour before they arrived. I thought maybe I hadn't had enough to drink so I sat down and sipped my way through an electrolyte drink while hubby and Mama Flintstone went to purchase sandwich items. I was left alone with Daughter Flintstone, sleeping newborn bub and Bam Bam, their two year old. (Yeah, I know Bam Bam wasn't the Flintstone's kid but he had certain destructive properties.)
I was bending over to pick up the relly's kid's multiple toys that Bam Bam had bam bam'd his way through (I couldn't crouch or kneel) when Daughter Flintstone asked me if we were planning on having a kid. She'd had to have a cesarean for this latest child and warned me that the older you get, the harder it is on your body. I was just thinking GREAT! Another unneeded reminder! I already know how friggin' hard it is because I couldn't even get one live kid out of me and I'm really suffering physically and emotionally!
Luckily, the useful thing about that family is that they're all a big bunch of talkers. Kind of like wind-up toys, you just set them up with a topic and they just go go go and go. Sometimes I don't even think they register that they sometimes get into one sided conversations, I know they're not shutting me out or deliberately talking over me, they just genuinely like talking.
The other lucky thing was that Daughter Flintstone's phone rang shortly after this. she was like 'I better go, I'm being rude to Lucky Tiger' while I'm in the background mouthing "no, it's fine! You can talk!" I didn't have to answer her question because the phone call provided some more conversation fodder, enough for me to do my chameleon thing in the background.
After this family left, I felt okay. I was watching cartoons with hubby before heading off to the appointment with the GP. This was a different GP, he reminded me of Hank Scorpio from the Simpsons and he was lovely.Once again I had to go through what had happened and what was going on with my legs and the bleeding. That was a little hard, and I broke down in the office.
That was probably the worst thing about it, every time I have to relate or even think about WHY I have sore legs. I can't get past it or heal while it's still there, punching me in the face. The GP was really kindly but said he didn't know what was going on and recommended we see the emergency ward at a local hospital before boarding the plane the next day. His main concern was that it could be a clot or some other urgent complication.
Danio (sister in law) dropped us off at the GP and we'd taken longer than we expected in the office. Lucky Panda explained (sort of, we didn't mention the miscarriage) what we had to do now and she took us to a nearby hospital without any fuss. Her youngest was in the backseat cheerfully explaining that this is where she went when she was sick recently. In the meantime, Evil had texted Panda about doing something for dinner - being our last night there.
I was trying not to show how upset I was in the car - Danio tried to cheer me up but I just sat there looking out the window with a dramatic tear roll down my face. Why do I always do that? I just close up whenever people try to get near or help me. It's so infuriating - like I know what I'm doing but I can't make myself stop doing it.
Danio dropped us off at the hospital and we settled down for an expected long wait.
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