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Thursday, October 30, 2008

The Opposite of Grey's Anatomy

I went to the ER, per the instructions of the advice nurse at Kaiser.  I had originally called to get an appointment with my OB/GYN.  Instead, I was quizzed about my symptoms and sent to the dreaded emergency room, aka: purgatory.

I bled heavily in the early morning, but by the time we arrived in the ER 90 minutes later, I wasn't bleeding that much and the cramping had subsided considerably.  I walked up to the thick window with the "health care provider" sitting behind it looking bored and said, "I'm here because I was told to be here."

"Reason for being here?"  The lady asked, obviously uninterested.

"Miscarriage."  I said clearly.

"What?  You're scared?"  She replied loudly.

"No.  Miscarriage."  I repeated into the hole.

"What?"  She said again, just as loud, as if I was the one with the hearing issues.

"I SAID MIS-CARR-IAGE.  I'M HAVING A MIS-CARR-IAGE."  I nearly yelled.  

She looked sour as she asked for a $50 co-pay and told me to sit down to wait for my turn.  I looked around and saw that we were the only people in the room. Sighing, I sat and waited...and bled some more.

The ER is a horrible place to have a miscarriage, in case that wasn't a well known fact.  I was dreading going in the first place, but after arriving, I was horrified when I realized I was going to experience my emotional trauma there, in the waiting room, while watching  "Three Men and a Little Lady" on TBS.  Talk about adding insult to injury.

Once I was inside and sitting in a hospital gown, I was attended to fairly quickly.  I guess 7 in the morning is a good time to be injured and in need of medical help.  The older asian ER doctor attempted to be kind and encouraging, although when she said, "You'll PROBABLY be able to have a baby someday" wasn't exactly the most comforting thing I've ever heard.  

I had to have a speculum inserted and my cervix was checked.  It was closed, as that happens when you miscarry...it opens and closes periodically to let through tissue and blood.  

Then, she said I'd have to have an intra-vaginal ultrasound.  I shuddered at the thought.  She took the machine out, which was "the older machine," and looked helplessly for a condom to put on the stick that would be probing my insides.  After a good three minutes of opening and closing cabinets and doors, she found one.  Meanwhile, the stick had dropped onto the floor.  She just picked it up and unrolled the condom, ready to proceed.  I was mortified.

"Um.  The stick dropped on the floor."  I said from my uncomfortable position on the table, legs sprawled in stirrups.  She simply put the condom on, spread some goop on it, and stuck it inside.  

There was nothing there to see.  It was all a white haze.  No empty sac with fluid.  Nothing.   The white haze was the blood ready to expel.  I was ready to leave at that point, knowing there was really nothing else to hope for.  This was obviously not "break-through bleeding" or "implantation bleeding."  This was "2nd miscarriage bleeding."

The male nurse came in to take some blood to measure HcG in my system.  The needle couldn't find a vein, so he left quite a pretty little bruise on my arm.  I was stuck a few times before providing enough for three vials.  I'll be coming back to the lab in 2 and 4 days for more blood, just to make sure my levels are decreasing consistently.  If they increase, it's more likely to be an ectopic, which would be very bad and require surgery.

I'm hoping I won't need a D&C, as I was "lucky" in that way before.  Although I have never had one before, it seems invasive, intrusive, and a little scary.  I'd rather pass the tissue naturally, and wait for everything to come back to normal, hopefully sooner than later.

The day has been slow going.  I took two days off of work to repair what's broken in my uterus and head and heart.  Thanks for the messages of love and hope, by the way.  You know who you are.  I'll be talking to you as soon as the bleeding subsides and the trips to the bathroom are no longer so traumatic.  

2 comments:

marae said...

Kiki...so sorry to hear about this, my heart goes out to you. Hang in there...I'll be thinking of you.

jill said...

oh, kristina! i am so very sorry. i've told this to someone else too, but just as encouragement, my mom gave birth to my sister at 42! keep your head up, my friend!