*I'm freaking tired of talking about my miscarriage. I feel like a whiny bitch. Really, I just want to get on with my life and stop bleeding like I've been stabbed in my girly parts.**This is going to get graphic.
***You've been warned.I had another blood draw yesterday to check my
hCG levels.
Recap, for those just joining this story:ER 2/27: 9603/2: 914 (gestational sac measuring 4mm.)3/5: 619This afternoon, the doctor's office called.
Nurse: Melissa? This is Angela from Dr. Good Guy's office. Just wanted to let you know that your levels have dropped to 849 and you just have to come in next Thursday for another blood draw.
Me: Uhhhhhhh. Last week my level was 619. So, it's gone up. Now down.
Nurse: No, I'm looking though the lab results and see that .... Oh... Uh... Hmm.... Oooookay, let me call the doctor and call you right back.
Fan-freaking-tabulous.10 minutes later:
Nurse: Dr. Good Guy wants you to come into the office as soon as you can.
Me: I'll be there within the hour.
(Nevermind that I had to take a shower because no self respecting woman is going to go the OB/GYN with girly bits that haven't been washed in the past 12 hours. Furthermore, I have to drive all the way downtown to pick my husband up from work so he could be with the kids since the last thing a 6 year old and 4 year old need to see is their mother splayed out on an exam table with... Well, you get the picture.)Doctor Good Guy: I just can't get rid of you can I?
Me: No, I like to be difficult!
DGG: Wow. You're bleeding.
Me: Really? I hadn't noticed.
DGG: Let's take a look.
(Insert ultrasound probe (that I absolutely DID NOT play with while waiting for the doctor. Nope not me.)) See, the sac is still there. It's sitting right on top of your cervix.
Me: It looks bigger than last week.
DGG: Nah, it's probably just the magnification. It's... well, yeah, it has nearly doubled since last week.
Me: Nah nah nah boo boo! I told you!!
(OK, I didn't really do that, but I said it in my head.)(Here it gets pretty ugly. You've been warned)DGG pulls ultrasound probe out and blood goes spraying all over me, the exam table, the carpet and the doctor.
DGG: The nurses hate when I do that.
Me: Um... sorry?
DGG: It's ok. It happens.
Me: Yeah, but not to me. You're going to get tired of seeing me, you know?
DGG: No. You're refreshingly pleasent.
Me: Under the circumstances, I'll take that as a compliment!
The plan of action is as follows: I am to take
misoprostol for the next 16 hours and hope that it promotes uterine contractions and expels the thing that is currently riding my cervix like a wild bronco.
On Monday morning, I am scheduled for an ultrasound and blood work. If the ultrasound still shows parasitic life chillin' in my ute, I will be taken right over to the hospital for a D&C.
According to my mother, I am repressing my emotions and will need psychiatric care after this is all said and done.
According to me, because, you know, I am pretty aware of myself, I am doing pretty well. Annoyed as shit that my uterus and cervix continue to revolt against me. Although, I should have figured that things wouldn't go smoothing since, for me, they rarely do.
Hopefully this will be relatively easy. I have a pretty busy weekend planned, although most everything can be postponed or skipped althougher.
If not, I'll deal. Because there really isn't any other option.
Either way, me, my misoprostol and my vicodin are going to be chillin' here on the couch.