I have to convey my deepest apologies for my absence. I actually have an excuse this time; I have been pretty sick. It began as dull back pain not unlike the discomfort one might feel after being hunched over a desk all day - only I don't have a desk to hunch over. For a while I thought it might just be more gas (come on, you didn't think it ended in the first trimester did you?). After about a week of that it became worse and was concentrated more on the right side. I didn't think that even the most stubborn gas bubble would hang on that long so I diagnosed myself with a kidney issue and headed to the hospital with a pain level of about 7 out of 10.
I was right; the diagnosis was kidney stones. I spent two nights in the hospital where they kept me drugged up on narcotics and bloated with IV fluids, collecting everything that came out of my body. I was finally released with a prescription for Percocet and my very own collection kit. The Percocet made me very dizzy and loopy so I couldn't take it when I was alone with the kids and so I suffered through it while Josh was at work. Oh, but you can bet your butt I was waiting with drugs in hand for him to walk through that door so that I could find some measure of relief, at least for a little while, from the awful pain I was trapped in.
Within a week and a half I found myself perched on the end of the bed at 2am, writhing and screeching in pain - this time with a pain level of 11 out of 10, setting a whole new precedent. Despite my best efforts to be quiet so that the kids wouldn't wake up, Josh was disturbed from his sweet slumber and so helped me to the living room where he called an ambulance and got me some of the pain meds and a glass of water. This pain, however, was far too intense for mere Percocet to even touch.
I was right; the diagnosis was kidney stones. I spent two nights in the hospital where they kept me drugged up on narcotics and bloated with IV fluids, collecting everything that came out of my body. I was finally released with a prescription for Percocet and my very own collection kit. The Percocet made me very dizzy and loopy so I couldn't take it when I was alone with the kids and so I suffered through it while Josh was at work. Oh, but you can bet your butt I was waiting with drugs in hand for him to walk through that door so that I could find some measure of relief, at least for a little while, from the awful pain I was trapped in.
Within a week and a half I found myself perched on the end of the bed at 2am, writhing and screeching in pain - this time with a pain level of 11 out of 10, setting a whole new precedent. Despite my best efforts to be quiet so that the kids wouldn't wake up, Josh was disturbed from his sweet slumber and so helped me to the living room where he called an ambulance and got me some of the pain meds and a glass of water. This pain, however, was far too intense for mere Percocet to even touch.
By the time I reached the hospital I'd been dribbled, bounced, jerked, thumped, and poked - all while one of the EMTs was trying to chit-chat with me. He asked me what brought me to Lexington, where my husband works and when he asked me if my husband enjoys his job, I hissed at him through gritted teeth as I writhed on the gurney, twisted and contorted in pain, holding my right flank in a ditch effort to cushion myself against the turns and bumps, "I DON'T F*CKING KNOW!" He remained quiet for the rest of the ride.
Once I was taken to my appointed room and transferred to the bed, I was asked a whole gambit of questions that I don't remember, spitting answers through my clenched jaw while every vein in my neck and forehead stood prostrate through angry, red flesh as my blood pressure peaked with the agony of piercing, stabbing pain that can only be summed up as feeling like you're being skewered in through the flank, straight through and out the bladder.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, a nurse came in with a couple of syringes and alcohol wipes. Morphine was the name of the game. One syringe was given to me through the IV that the EMT had clumsily administered through jarring bumps and swerving turns while I was in the ambulance. The other syringe was violently stabbed into the top of my left thigh where it burned like acid as it seeped into my muscle. While it didn't take the pain away, it disconnected me from it enough so that I could relax through it and I went limp. Sleep was next. By the time I woke up, the pain was gone but I was still in Morphine Land. I was released that morning and went home to sleep off the drugs.
My kidney seems to be healing up nicely but it sure took a long time for the Morphine and all the effects of it to pass. After I'd had time to reflect on the whole experience, I decided that from this point on I really want to stay as far from allopathic medicine as possible. I remembered that I wasn't allowed any water - not even ice chips - while I was in the hospital passing a kidney stone. WTF? No, their answer was a slow-drip IV and hardcore narcotics - for a pregnant woman! And my pelvis feels like it's splitting in half from laying in bed for so long. Now I've enlisted the services of a wonderful chiropractor who works with subluxations. It was really the best I could do here in Lexington, KY where the overall lack of evolution and, consequently, modern concepts, means there is a significant shortage of naturopathic healthcare options.
I would also like to find a midwife who will take me seriously and not snicker behind my back when I mention my previous birth experiences. I'm not sure how possible that will be but the quest has begun. We'll see how it goes. If I can't find someone in whom I can convey my confidence, then I will fall back to taking care of myself. I'm standing on that precarious edge now because it's a lot of effort to seek out such an individual and I'm approaching the end of my pregnancy rather quickly. Wish me luck!
Oh, and through all of this chaos we found out that Squishy is a girl. And, for your viewing pleasure, here's a couple of recent pictures. The first is Squishy at 26 weeks and the second is me at 29 weeks. We've only got 11 weeks left!
I would also like to find a midwife who will take me seriously and not snicker behind my back when I mention my previous birth experiences. I'm not sure how possible that will be but the quest has begun. We'll see how it goes. If I can't find someone in whom I can convey my confidence, then I will fall back to taking care of myself. I'm standing on that precarious edge now because it's a lot of effort to seek out such an individual and I'm approaching the end of my pregnancy rather quickly. Wish me luck!
Oh, and through all of this chaos we found out that Squishy is a girl. And, for your viewing pleasure, here's a couple of recent pictures. The first is Squishy at 26 weeks and the second is me at 29 weeks. We've only got 11 weeks left!
