Last But Not Least

After trying to lose this sac for over a month, I told the doctor I would like to do a D&C.  My mothers were upset that I could possibly get an infection because I’ve had it in me for so long; they were relieved I finally chose this option.  I even had the anesthesiologist at my surgery ask me how far along I was. I said, “Well I think 15/16 weeks but my sac is 7 weeks.” She gave me the most horrified look when I told her how long I had been trying to miscarry.  

I guess a D&C is a real surgery. I was put under for a 15 min procedure. The staff at outpatient surgery loved us because we were upbeat and easy going. I gather everyone is in such pain that they are grumpy. I was chatting up all the nurses. They were short staffed so my nurse escorted me to ultrasound. We saw a rapper for a snickers and we both said that sounded good to have. When I came back, the nurse had run to gift shop and had bought me one. That's when I knew that the staff liked us.   

The first nurse told me to take a pregnancy test. I almost looked at her and said "Seriously? You haven't read my chart and must  be joking.", But I decided that I wanted to see if my hormones would say if I was pregnant or not.  She told me I wasn't and I thought "way to go body get on the right page....sort of." This is important because they also took a  HCG test (pregnancy hormone) I was at 12. They took the same test three weeks prior and I was at 19.  25 or less is not pregnant.    So the doctor asked me if I had passed anything during the week since I saw her in

Yeah cause I knit everywhere

case I didn't need surgery. I told her no, so she ordered another sonogram just to make sure the sac was still in there. 

The sonogram said I had "Retained Products" Both Daniel and I looked at each other and said "What's that?" The nurse said "It means products of conception."  I said "Oh I just have been calling the sac." Daniel said "That makes her sound like some marketing tool."  We laughing so hard about it. The doctor showed up and said  she was going to vacuum the "products of conception." There could be some puncturing of the uterus and  could suck out some organs.  This is the reason I wanted to avoid this surgery since she had said this since the beginning.  At this point I figured the chance was pretty high since everything had gone wrong, but hey whatever.  Daniel asked "Which organs, like her intestines?" The doctor kept asking what was wrong with us and had to knock on wood because she said, "we were tempting fate." 

I was okay with having surgery, but the first time I was scared was walking into the operating room. I was intimidated with all the lights and machinery.  Daniel really wanted to see me after I woke up from the anesthetic because he is so loopy after he is drugged. I always make fun of him for it, so he thought it would be great to see me equally as funny.  Unfortunately he missed most of it, but I remember being super analytical. Daniel was right that it was the best nap I've ever had. I remember coming to with oxygen on and thinking "I'm okay...oh this is pure oxygen I had better breathe deep  cause this is good for me and my brain." Then I thought, "hey I have no pants on and the doctor said I would be bleeding. Oh crap I'm bleeding over this bed. I can't make a mess for these ladies." I asked the nurse if I was bleeding everywhere. She looked and said, "oh yeah you're leaking out of the pad!" I was relieved cause I finally felt the pad and then freaked out for making a mess.  The nurse took me to the bathroom while I said, "I'm sorry for making a mess!" They told me to change and handed me another pad and disposable underwear. That was the best underwear ever; it hugged in all the right places. It didn't matter if it leaked because you got to throw it away. The toilet didn't have a sanitary napkin disposable bin to put my pad in and all I could think of was my flight attendant training that "Bodily fluids are hazmat and must be disposed of properly."  I wrapped it up as best I could when the nurse tapped on the door asking, "Are you all right?" I said, "Yes, that's hazmat, pointing to my blob of stuff, and I couldn't properly dispose of it. I'm sorry." The nurse just smiled, probably laughing inside as I walked off.  

When I was walking out of the hospital, I was excitedly sent off by the receptionist. She really liked me for some reason. She came out from her desk to say goodbye and wish me a good weekend. Everyone was really nice considering why I was there. It was actually a "good" hospital experience, but we were both glad to get home. We flopped on the bed and Daniel let out a big breath and completely relaxed. That was the moment I realized how hard all of this waiting to "move forward" had taken its toll on him. 

It surprised me what was helpful during this process. Mostly, I was a wreak when someone was nice to me. I would burst up into tears. I figured I must be use to passengers being jerks and not really seeing me that I was surprised that anyone would be nice to me.   Some of the comforts were silly like my best friend writing a email cussing out how much this sucked (for some reason that was so satisfying), my father-in-law sending flowers so that I could dye yarn, a girlfriend offering to bring lunch, and the ridiculous card from my grandmother.  Possibly the best "condolence" was Daniel's best friend awkwardly standing around wishing to say something to make it better when not know what to say at all. It was nice because he didn't attempt to say anything to make himself feel better, but recognized how much it sucked.