How I spent my holidays running around GP's and other medical places.

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.

Flights, Fancies, Fears and Fluff

So - after a week of shunning work in favour of generally curling up into a little ball and feeling sorry for myself, and feeling even sorrier on account of being unable to curl into said ball due to extreme post surgery leg pain - it was time for a holiday!

Now this interstate holiday was meant to be just that - a relaxing time for us.

We did all the touristy things last time, this time we just wanted to see family and do nothing productive.

We had hoped to be able to take family out to dinner and tell them in person that we were starting our own tiny clan.. but, well, so much for that.






The day we left, we had to cram in a 2 year old's birthday party. I bought the kid a talking Hey Duggee! plush a) because the kid loves it and b) because the dad hates that show.

Can't figure out why..

We couldn't stay long because of our flight but we didn't want to stay too long either.
There were a million kids there (I counted, really!) due to a nearby 1st birthday party and Lucky Panda and I were just waiting for someone to do the routine "when are you going to have kids!?" thing that we just.. love... to hear.. over.. and over.... again...

It's like; we see you once a year, random person. Usually at a birthday or kid's event. Why the funkadelic monkey would I tell you about my downstairs mix-up and it's associated issues? You don't care about us becoming parents, you barely know us! You just want to validate yourself and your lifestyle but you can't think of anything else to say to us.

Fortunately, being so.. "unattached" has its benefits. Mainly meaning I can wander off and raid the buffet before someone tries to trap me in a fierce debate with another mother about how many micro-minutes someone's newborn sleeps or how much poop they've done so far.
I don't even feel rude about leaving. I'm here for a party, stop talking to me about literal shit.

Only one person spoke to us about what we were doing for the rest of the day and when we told them she said that she always found that kids prefer hanging out with childless adults anyway so we should be fine with seeing our nephews and nieces.

She didn't mean it in a mean way, and I understand what she was getting at but it still annoyed me.
I mean, 'childless adults'? She doesn't think our relatives would like hanging out with us if we HAD kids? Kids are keen on anyone who's not going to tell them to do their homework or brush their teeth but will play kids game with them and hang out/take them places.

I mean, family comes to visit? It should be a good, exciting thing! I know these kids act the same with any relative or friend of their parents, even if said relly/friend has their own kids.

I liked hanging out with my aunts and uncles as a child - they didn't cast me aside in favour of their own child (unless something urgent happened) and only one ever did that thing where an adult is shown something awesome the kid made and says 'oh, that's nice' without really looking.
I may or may not be holding a grudge over that. I had glow in the dark crayons, damnit!

*Cough* anyway, I personally was a bit apprehensive about going to see the relly's. I didn't want to be asked about babies but thought I would be and was a bit worried that if I was asked I'd either snark out something mean or start bawling my eyes out. Knowing me, I'd try something cool and mean but then start crying halfway through the sentence. I kinda suck that way.

Coping (or not so much) after the loss

I had been given Monday following the surgery off. The next day, Panda had to return to work and I was meant to. I did not. I had not been able to sleep the night before, I was still in agony with my legs but more than that - I couldn't face the idea of going into the workplace. Besides that I just couldn't stop crying.

I had a panic attack of sorts - stressed that I would break down in tears if someone asked how I was or even breaking down for no reason at all. I was petrified that - not being in the right state of mind - I might say something inappropriate to a customer that could affect my job, especially if a customer got aggressive or angry about something that in the end.. doesn't matter.

I managed to call work to let them know I wouldn't be in - hoping I wouldn't get any of the bitchy ones. Hoping worked - I got the 'mother hen' of the work leaders. She'd dealt with me before when i had an adverse reaction at work to some fertility medication, although she didn't know or pry for the root cause.

Managing to drag myself to the doctor's for a medical certificate was an experience. The opposing wall to where the waiting room is has an opaque tint to try to block out the intense sun. It doesn't really work, so no one gave me side eye when I was sitting there with sunnies on.

As usual, I couldn't see my usual doctor because you have to pre-plan and book your sickness weeks in advance apparently which is a bit messed up to me. So I went to see a doctor I hadn't used before but Panda had. He'd told me this doctor was good and actually listened to him. The last doctor we had there that really gave a crap left a few months ago so I was sold.

And he was good, he listened, he gave me time which is normally harder to get out of a doctor than blood from a stone and when some nurse barged in he politely excused himself to deal with that as well as keeping them out of the room and came back apologising even though it wasn't his fault people don't know how to knock. He was really kind to me.

I told him what I wrote here, that I didn't think I could cope with work and I was in so much emotional and physical pain. He told me to take the week off work, and to let him know if that wasn't enough and also offered me pain killers for my legs.

Afterwards I sat in my car for a little bit while I sorted myself out then I told myself I needed to do this right so I headed to work. I was booked in for a flu shot anyway, so instead of cancelling it I turned up and got that. Last year we had a total rude cow doing the jabs but this time we had this lovely lady who asked how my day was going and I had to be that one person saying "lady, don't even ask" while holding back tears.

Babysitter's club, say hello to your SCREAMING NIECE OH GOSH WHYYY

Now the day after my surgery we were scheduled to baby sit our new niece, RNK. In hospital the previous night - my parents told us to not go ahead with this if we didn't feel up to it. They would have gladly done it but they had a prior engagement. It was only for a sporting event but I know how much that sport meant to my sister - frankly I'm surprised she lasted the entire pregnancy without kicking a soccer ball.

So we agreed to do it. It started off okay, Laalaa was on time, RNK was cheerful and smiling. Laalaa told us she hadn't had a nap (we suspect she planned this so she'd fall asleep for us) but was otherwise sorted for feeds and what not.

Then Laalaa left.

All was peaceful on the south-eastern front until...

Five minutes later.....

She realised we were NOT THE MAMA.

For those not aware, impersonation of 'the mama' is a screamable offence. 

We didn't know better, we were just the temporary care takers (let's face it, this kid has no ball kicking skills and lets the soccer team down constantly. They're trying again next season) and didn't mean any offence. 

We tried the traditional calming rituals of "ooh, what's this teddy bear doing here" or "let me hold you and wobble you around while we walk" but this had no effect. Then we attempted the "hey, is that a rattle? I think it is!" and "lying on a sweet pirate rug" before the "putting you back in the stroller and rocking you back and forth, as words from the ancestors foretold this would work sufficiently". 

Miscarriage of Justice Pt 2 - The surgery

Shortly after leaving the specialist, we walked across to the hospital. Luckily, we were the only two people there. Last time there was a roomful of waiting people. I spoke to the receptionist-person and she advised me that my surgery had been moved to about half an hour away, instead of the two hour wait we had anticipated. I confirmed that all the paperwork was pretty much sorted, but I still had to sign some things. During this, the lady - who was otherwise very nice - made the fatal error of trying to make small talk.

Nothing wrong with small talk but what she said was 'So, got anything planned after this?' like I had just popped in for a spot of tea and I would walk out of here soon like my life was fine, unchanged. That was it. I had some silent, lonely tears before but now the flood gates opened, and the little guards that were supposed to be keeping them shut were like 'Not my problem! See ya!' before abandoning the metaphorical ship and heading to the life rafts.

I think the lady realised the mistake and I'm not going to hold it against her because I know she didn't mean to upset me. I just took the tissue box she offered me and blindly stumbled across the room to where hubby was sitting. He took one look at my face and dropped everything - holding me in his strong, warm arms.

We didn't get much time to ourselves before a kindly nurse came to take us to prepare. I forgot her name immediately and couldn't even make out her name badge. First of all they weighed me.. on this little helipad looking thing where I discovered I'd lost two kilos since yesterday.
Then they ushered us into this little joint room where there was a lady in the far corner. We didn't talk to her. The nurse came back, did some blood pressure tests and then took me out of that room and into a private room.

I got to put on the attractive muu-muu gown and the indecipherable surgery underpants - was there a front? Was that supposed to be the back? Are these multi-sex? Are these the same material they make the hospital booties out of? Technically this was for a hospital booty, I guess...Everything I'm going through and the hardest part of my day is figuring out friggin' underpants - which honestly, I thought was a bit redundant because I knew I wouldn't be wearing them for long.


Maybe they were for the staff's benefit because they sure as hell weren't making me comfortable.






I had to get help with the stupid hospital stockings. Hubby did a good job, but the nurse told us we didn't quite do it right (not in a mean way, she blamed the ambiguous socks too) and helped us out. We made a bit of harmless small talk about how she could probably do this job in her sleep.
She agreed, telling us she helps put the stockings on someone at least five times during a shift.

It pains me that I can't remember her name - I think it was Carly. There was a Carly and a Sam assigned to help me, and I can't remember which one she was exactly.

So that done, I hop into the bed, after quickly stuffing some tissues into my hand. Hubby gives me a cuddle before they wheel me out - this comical hospital bed that barely fits through the friggin' doors - and I overhear the gurney guy (don't even know his name) tell hubby that they'll look after me.
This, I don't doubt. This is probably the best hospital I've ever been in, all the staff honestly give a shit and the amenities are good, like free parking and stuff.

But I'd rather not have to be here at all being treated kindly or not. I would prefer to be still going about my life with a live baby.

Miscarriage of justice Pt 1

We had thought everything was going well. We'd been told our one egg first try miracle was going strong. For my 11 week ultra sound, I was able to schedule it at a time where my husband could be present as well. I was so excited. Last time, we couldn't hear the heartbeat very well on the machine but the OG said it was normally that way with tummy ultrasounds.

This time, we did the belly scan.. nothing. Silence from the doctor. Trying to keep a positive mental state. OG says it wasn't what he wanted to see, so we did a vaginal scan as well which revealed that our baby had stopped developing.. probably around two weeks prior. It was pale, small, and no longer had a heartbeat.

The words no one wants to hear followed by 'I'm sorry.'

We were left alone in the room for a moment to grieve and get our heads together (and in my place, put my pants back on) before going back to discuss it. I was either trying to be strong and rational or perhaps I was in shock because the tears didn't come straight away. The sight of my devastated husband was what did it for me. He had come here to hear a heartbeat and see a baby sized human, not to have a nightmare come true.

I was glad he was there with me, I don't know what I would have done if I was alone.

OG said that he didn't want to go through anything in depth with us, to go home, get some rest and he would call us tomorrow. He gave us both the next two days off work. Hubby didn't want me driving but I insisted I would be fine - who hasn't driven while crying their eyes out before, right? Besides, it was something to do and I didn't want to leave my car overnight in the city.

So off we went, hubby following me, stopping only to refuel my car (because awful timing will always be present) and buy depression chocolate.

Heartbeat of our lives

This week I went to the Fetal Medicine Unit for an ultrasound.

They used to be right next door to my ob/gyn but since the ob/gyn moved (across the road) I just parked there and walked over because there's a Macca's in the other carpark so it's always hectic.

I got there early, but then got distracted and ended up having to rush up a flight of stairs to be on time. Wasn't really sure what to expect, so sitting in the waiting room for longer than I thought I'd be made me nervous. The receptionists were all very nice. So was the doctor.

He actually made conversation with me that wasn't entirely to do with medical stuff, including a little know fact about a famous namesake of mine. He was delighted that I already knew it, but I didn't tell him that I'd actually read it in a book no more than three days prior to my visit.

The doctor seemed a little too polite? Like... at this point everyone else is like OK pants off time, let me close the door for a few seconds but this guy draws the curtains, leaves the room and tells me he'll knock before he comes in. It's kind of amusing.

So I undress and get up on this little stand to reach the bed height - sort of. I'm expecting a hard surface, so I jump onto it intending to use my cat-like reflexes to grasp the sides and stabilise myself but it's actually squishy as hell, so I almost bounce right off the other end!

Started on the mattress now we on the floor

I manage to extract myself from the ten million pillows there and get into position. The doctor comes back and says I'm better off inserting the trans-vaginal probe for comfort and he averts his eyes. Not sure if not entirely comfortable with vaginas or if he's just trying to make me feel comfortable.

Anyway, the whole point was to check fetal viability and it seemed pretty good. The doctor was happy with everything. He points out what's what, tells me it looks great and healthy in there and then..... something I didn't/hadn't known to expect.

The trans-vaginal stick is secretly a microphone and I can hear baby's heartbeat!