Monthly Archives: March 2010

At 27 Weeks – Part 2

Posted on by
1

This story began yesterday with Part 1.

For Part 2, I must write a few things that I had forgotten to put in up to this point.

Within the first hour of my trip to the hospital, I was given a shot of Morphine.  The amount of pain I was in was unbearable, and they needed me to relax in order to find out if the contractions were going to slow down.  A few hours later, the Morphine had worn off, and I was given a second shot.  The Morphine masked the pain, but it wore off too quickly, and the pain came back just as it was before.  Also, all night long my nurse would come in and check my reflexes and bend my legs, every hour, to make sure the Magnesium wasn’t causing any adverse reactions.  Even though I was almost completely out of it, I didn’t get any sleep.  One of the many times she came to check on me, she shook her head at the IV pump.  ”What’s wrong?” I asked.  She said, “I can’t believe the dosage you’re on.  4mg of Magnesium is the dose for someone four times your size.  But every time I try to wean you down, your contractions start again.  I’m sorry.”  I had been telling her all night that Dr. Shaver wouldn’t want me to be on Magnesium, and he’d make them take out the foley catheter.  I said my doctors wouldn’t keep me like this.  She just nodded and went about her work.

After the second shot of Morphine wore off, and the pain was ramping back up again, they told me they couldn’t safely give me any more of that drug.  Instead, they gave Nubane.  I’d never heard of it before, but I was told it causes nausea.  They gave me a dose of Zofran in my IV to help prevent the nausea, and I remember it burning all the way up my arm, and feeling it go down into my heart.  Then they gave me the Nubane.  I’ve never had such an immediate, violent reaction to a drug before.  Within 10 seconds, I sat up and said, “I’m going to be sick.”  I had an extra second to catch a clear container that the nurse handed me before I spilled my cookies over and over.  Once the wretching stopped, I laid back down, exhausted, and fell asleep.  When the Nubane wore off, they came with more, and I cried.  My stomach was empty now, and they weren’t getting my pain under control, they were just covering it with narcotics, all of which were probably harmful to my baby.  They dosed me again, and I dry-heaved until I was crying with pain and fatigue.

Brock was sleeping on the pull-out, convertible recliner-slash-bed.  And by sleeping, of course, I mean sitting by, feeling useless and wishing he could take all of the pain away.  He was getting angry with the frustration of being unable to do anything to help.  I didn’t want him to touch me or try to make me feel better.  And I kept telling everyone it was “too hot in here,” so poor Brock froze all night while I roasted away on drugs.

Around this time, near morning, I figured out that my water hadn’t been broken or I would probably have kept leaking.  When the doctor checked my cervix in the Triage room, he used a large amount of lubricating jelly that melts when it raises to body temperature.  The gush I felt was all of the extra jelly exiting my body.  It was the first breath of relief I’d had in what felt like forever.

My next breath of relief came at 7am.  My doctors, all three of them, came in to check on me.  Even though I was still quite out of it, they managed to make me smile.  They asked the nurses a few questions, check my contraction strips, and Dr. Shaver told the nurse to take me off of the Magnesium.  He also said that I didn’t need a catheter.  I almost cried with gratitude.  Another nurse came in, and I heard her say to Dr. Imseis, “She refused the steroids!  She wouldn’t let us give them to her!”

“Good,” was his reply, “She didn’t need them.”

As Dr. Imseis was the hospital physician that day, he was the one that performed my actual consult.  I had an ultrasound done that confirmed that there was nothing wrong with my pregnancy or placenta, and that my cervix was still long and closed.  Despite the significant contractions I’d been having all night, my baby was not in danger of coming too early – or at least not yet.

However, the problem of my pain had still not been addressed.  Dr. Imseis prescribed an anti-spasmodic, which assumed that there was some problem with my bowels.  After the first two doses, my pain had gone away and they felt comfortable letting me go home on bed rest.

I would return to the hospital in less than 24 hours.  This story will conclude tomorrow with Part 3.

At 27 Weeks.

Posted on by
2

I don’t know if I’ve ever blogged this story before.  I don’t think I have.  I guess now is as good a time as any.

Around 25 weeks in my pregnancy, I started feeling very strong, crampy pains at the top and sides of my belly.  I knew they weren’t contractions.  I’d been having fairly regular contractions since about 20 weeks, and had been checked multiple times.  My doctor told me I had an irritable uterus (evidently that wasn’t limited to my personality).  They said as long as my cervix didn’t start shortening, I was safe.  So we checked my cervix weekly for a while, and then every other week until we figured out that the contractions, while real, weren’t doing anything scary.

Back to the cramping.  I asked one of the doctors that I worked with what would cause me to ache so badly in the top of my belly, and curve around the sides.  He palpated, and it didn’t hurt.  He listened with a stethoscope and didn’t hear anything unusual.  He said he wasn’t sure what it could be, but to keep an eye on it and let him know.

A week later, I was having the cramping more severely.  Sometimes I couldn’t sit down.  They weren’t related to my contractions, and contracting didn’t make them worse, but I noticed when I started cramping, the contractions came more frequently.

Another week went by, and one evening, on December 5th, they became so painful I couldn’t move.  They would come and go in waves, and as soon as I was hit, I would start writhing and crying in agony.  We called the nurse line and was told we would be called back within an hour.  I was hit with another wave of cramping, and started screaming in pain.  I told Brock I couldn’t wait until they called back.  We were going to have to go to the emergency room.  He took my phone and called Dr. Shaver, and told him what was going on.  Dr. Shaver said to just go straight to OB Triage at the hospital, that he would call and let them know we were coming.

The car ride there was the longest I’ve ever taken in my life.  I was crying in pain the whole time, and Brock was trying to get me to calm down, to relax.  I was so scared, and so tense that I was making everything snowball into something so much worse.  We got to the hospital, and went up to the Maternity ward.  They brought me into the Triage area, had me change into a gown and leave a urine sample, and then hooked me up to the monitor.  A nurse came in to start asking me questions and stopped asking within the first three minutes.  Another nurse came in and started an IV, and then they said they were moving me to a room.  I was going to be admitted.  I had been contracting every minute, which panicked the nurses because of the amount of pain I was in.  They immediately assumed that I was in pre-mature labor, and they needed to get the contractions to STOP.

I was given a shot of Terbeutaline in the back of my arm.  Within a minute, I was shivering and shaking all over.  It’s a tocolyitic, which means it stops smooth muscle contractions.  One of the most common side effects is uncontrollable shaking.  The doctor came in to check me, and I was thrown unceremoniously up into stirrups so he could check my cervix.  ”Hmm…” he said as he evaluated my cervix while I writhed in pain on the table, “… your cervix feels long and closed.  Like a tree trunk, really.  I’m going to do a Fetal Fibronectin test, but we’re going to admit you and start you on Magnesium just in case.”  A fibronectin test, or FFN, as it’s abbreviated, is a test for fetal proteins in the vaginal secretions.  They can be present for many reasons, but if they are NOT present, there’s a 90% chance that delivery WONT occur within 2 weeks.  A positive result isn’t a very predictive indicator of outcomes, but a negative test is helpful for easing fears of early delivery.  They told me they wanted to give me steroids for the baby’s lungs, and I refused.  I told them I didn’t want the steroids until the FFN came back positive.  To my logic, as an employee of a High Risk Obstetric clinic, if my cervix was long and closed, and the FFN was negative, there was no reason to give steroids.  If we gave them now, and something actually did occur later in my pregnancy, I wouldn’t be able to get them again.  So I said no.

The next thing I knew, we were moved into a room in Labor and Delivery.  As they transferred me from the stretcher to the bed, I felt a gush of fluid between my legs, and I started crying uncontrollably.  I told Brock, “My water just broke!  They broke my water!”  I couldn’t calm down.  Before, what had just been pain and uncertainty became the realization that my baby was about to be born at only 27 weeks.  Panic had set in, and I couldn’t get myself together.  I cried until I exhausted myself.  My new nurse came in and told me they were going to have to put in a catheter while I was on the Magnesium because I wouldn’t be allowed to get up to use the restroom.  I screamed out once when she put in the catheter, and then apologized.  ”I bet you hate having to do that,” I said to her.  ”Why’s that?” she asked.  I said, “It probably sucks to have to hurt people all the time.”

“Doesn’t bother me,” she said, “I’m not the one that it hurts.”

I was a little thrown by that, but didn’t have a chance to think on it.  At this point, they started me on the Magnesium.  For the next 12 hours, my life was a blur, a haze of events that I can’t clearly remember or distinguish real from dream.  I remember a nurse coming at me with a needle.  I asked her, “What is that?”  She said, “Steroids, for the baby’s lungs.”  I was angry, and said, “No!  I don’t want the steroids until the FFN is back!”  I could tell she was disgusted with me, but she went away.  About 20 minutes later, another nurse came in with a needle.  ”What do you have?” I asked again.  This time, the nurse said, “It’s Betamethasone.”  Unfortunately, none of these nurses know who I was or with whom I was employed.  Betamethasone is the medical name for fetal steroids.  I yelled, “I DON’T WANT THE STEROIDS!” and the nurse shook her head and walked away.

Two hours later, my FFN came back negative.  My chances of early delivery were significantly reduced, and I felt vindicated in my choice to refuse the unnecessary drug.

This is a VERY long story.  We’ll call this Part One, and I’ll continue it tomorrow.

Sweet and Sweet Caffeine

Posted on by
4

I had a good weekend at work.

Not only because there was a time change that meant my 12 hour shift was actually only 11, and not only because I had a great book that I thoroughly enjoyed, and not even only because I met some great new friends… because I also had the pleasure of meeting some amazing patients.

I scanned a patient this weekend that was sweet as could be, looked to be probably 42 or 43, and enjoyed talking.  I spent probably more time than I should have out in the hallway with her, talking about life and how we perceive it.  We talked about not knowing the true trials other people are going through, and only being concerned with our own.  I told her about Layla Grace, and how it opened my eyes to the difficulties that other people face, and how they can touch our lives if we let them in.  She told me about her children, and her grand children, and her work.  She also told me she was 58, and it blew me away.  She looked AMAZING.  Our conversation really got me thinking.  I really enjoyed meeting her.

I scanned another lady that had had multiple previous exams, and made another snap judgement.  She was overweight, covered in tattoos and I figured she was probably a drug seeker.  Then we started talking.  She asked me about the picture of Ronan on my badge, and we talked about kids.  She told me that she was told she would never be able to have kids, and her little boy is her miracle babe.  We talked about the love of parenting, and how it’s the truest, purest form of love.  We talked about people who don’t want kids, and how we wished we could fully show them how amazing it is to be a parent.  We talked about family size, and infertility, and the joys of pregnancy.  We talked for much longer than the elapsed time of the exam and when she left to go back to the Emergency Department, I was a little sad to see her go.  I told her it was really great to have met her, and I had enjoyed talking to her.  She said the same, and to take good care of my sweet little boy.  I smiled for quite a while after the exchange.

I scanned a sweet old lady that was deaf as a post.  She couldn’t have been more than 60 pounds, and I all but lifted her from the wheelchair to the bed.  She would ask me questions loudly, and, unable to hear the answer, just assume I had said what she wanted.  ”How longs it gonna be?”  ”ABOUT 15 MINUTES,” I told her.  ”Oh okay.”  ”Help me burp,” she asked me.  So I stood there, patting her back while she curled up, trying to burp.  Her ribs protruded out so far, I felt like I was abusing her.  ”I just can’t get it out!” Later on, she’d ask me, “Are we about done?” every two or three minutes during the exam.  When she was all finished, I sat her up and told her we were going to move back to her wheelchair.  She said, “Just let me sit a minute!  They’re going to take me back up right away, right?…” She paused for a moment, then held her arms wide open.  ”…Give me a hug.”  I gave her a hug, and she squeezed me tighter than her frail frame suggested was possible.  She patted me on the back, and said “You’re sweet.  Ok, lets go.”  She was confused and suffering from dementia, but she was sweet as could be.  Her hug made my day.

I also had caffeine.  It really made a huge difference in my night shift.  For the first time, I had just as much energy at 4am as I did at 8pm.  I even danced around when a good song came on.  I don’t know how I’ve lived without it for so long.  I know so many people who have multiple, several caffeinated drinks a night… I was flying off of half a Coke.

Last, but not least, I read an amazing book this weekend.  The whole thing.  I couldn’t put it down.  I’d love to write a review on it, so I’m not going to get into too much depth here.  But it was Tales from the Trips, by John Cave Osborne.  Fantastic read.  One of the best parts of my whole weekend.  More on this later.

So nice to write a positive post about work.

Those Days.

Posted on by
4

You know you have those days.

The ones where you’re so preoccupied with something that you cant get it out of your head?  The ones where you get so caught up in your own life that you can’t find the way to pull yourself out?

I’ve been having one of those weeks.  I didn’t blog TWO entire days this week.  Every time I sat down and started thinking about what I would write, I felt sick to my stomach.  I haven’t cleaned my house, I haven’t done any laundry, I haven’t even been able to make it to the public library, which was my goal for the week.

Three lovely ladies came to my rescue yesterday, and invited me out of my house and out of my head.  I couldn’t have needed it more, and we had such a great time at the mall.  I probably wouldn’t have left the lair if it weren’t for you, Steph, and I appreciate it so much.  Thank you.

I guess I’ll give some news.

In Ronan-land, we started signing “Please” this week.  It’s very adorable.  He rubs himself from shoulder to belly button.  More like “PLEASE!”… but we get the point, and it seems he does too.

Also, Ronan woke six times last night.  Things seem to be getting better, and then they just jump off a cliff, all the way down to the bottom again.  He hasn’t woken six times in a night in so long, and it’s very discouraging.  We have him in his own bedroom now, on a mattress on the floor.  One of us sleeps with him, as we thought it would a little traumatic to suddenly throw him into a different room and leave him alone when he’s been co-slept for the last 12 months.

I really don’t know what else to say.  This hasn’t been a good week.  I have my fingers crossed that next week turns out better.  Eternally optimistic.

Ohhhhh boy.

Posted on by
4

Ronan and I went for a ‘play’ day yesterday.  I say play as such because our little friend, Carter James, is only 8 days old and not quite up for playing.

But Ronan had a blast playing with Carter’s puppy dog, Tucker.  I have never heard him laugh as hard as he was laughing at that dog.  My silly boy took Tucker’s tennis ball, and put it up in the baby swing – Tucker knows he’s not allowed to get in or near the swing, so he was running around it sniffing.  Ronan just watched him and laughed and LAUGHED.  It was absolutely adorable.

Ronan’s new thing is to repeat what sounds like “Tickletickletickletickle” over and over.  It’s hard not to say it back to him!

Being such a gorgeous day yesterday, I threw some shorts and a tee-shirt on the boy and we went outside to play.  The neighborhood kids got a kick out of chasing Flint for almost an hour, and my dog got a great workout.  Ronan has a hard time navigating the outdoors with shoes on, and when he fell in the grass, he didn’t want to put his hands down in order to push himself back up, so he just sat there.

Ronan really wanted to play with all of the kids running around.  I absolutely LOVE spring.

Another One Gone.

Posted on by
5

There you have it.  Another long, awful weekend behind me.

My life is the series of weeks that happen between weekends.  I feel like time goes by so quickly when I realize that there are only 52 weekends in the year, and I feel like I’m always working.

I’m thinking of doing a new Monday feature, because I have such a hard time getting up and going in the morning.  I have lots of lovely bloggers that I follow, and would love to know more about, as well as share with all of my readers.  I think I’m going to create an interview, and send it to all of my favorite blogs, and post one of the interviews every Monday.  That way, you’d get to know some of my bloggers and why I love them – and I would always have some great Monday content.  Sounds win-win to me.

Work was super-crazy-busy this weekend.  I hardly had a moment to breathe.  I’m glad it’s over.

I just found a stain on one of my favorite shirts.  That makes me really mad.

My contacts are dry, and I want to take them out, but the day is just barely started. (For me, anyways.)

It’s GORGEOUS out, and I want to take Ronan out when he gets up from his nap.  Who knows what we’ll do.  I can’t wait for the pool to open.

I am dangerously addicted to Sprite lately.

I’m thinking of re-naming my cat “Cuddles.”  He’s been sitting on my lap as often as possible for the last 2 weeks.

Need to do LAUNDRY!  And vacuum.

I still have a head ache.  I’ll never look at romantic candlelight the same way again.

Seriously, kid, are you ever going to wake up?

That is my thought-stream of the day.  About all I’ve got.  On to writing an interview!

Baby Free and Romance Gone Wrong.

Posted on by
7

Brock and I had a date night last night.

We got a sitter so we could be BABY FREE and tried to go to a movie, only there was absolutely nothing that either of us wanted to see.  So instead, we went over to hang out with our friends, Chris and KJ.  We were there for 3 whole hours, and it really felt like 20 minutes.  We had SO much fun!

What do two tired, overworked parents want to do when they get a date night?  Why, play video games of course.

Brock started out the night by trying out a God of War rip-off where you play as one of the four horsemen, and you have to kill demons and angels alike.  It looked pretty cool, albeit a little silly.  Then KJ got irritated because we were all watching instead of playing.  So we put on Mario for the Wii!

That game is designed to make people hate each other, I swear!  My throat was sore by the end of the night from yelling at everyone.  I couldn’t believe how fast the time went, or how relaxing it was to let loose and not worry about waking up the baby.  We played Halli Galli, which is a counting fruit card game.  Yeah, I know, it sounds stupid, but it was actually really fun.  We were yelling, and laughing and slapping – it was crazy.  We got to see KJ’s ninja hands and how lightening fast she was, winning two times in a row.

We were sad when it was time to go.  Date nights come so few and far between, and it felt like we had just walked out the door.  I texted our sweet and wonderful nanny to see if the baby was sleeping.  She said that he was ALMOST out, and would probably be asleep by the time we got home.  We came in very quietly, and I texted her again to see if she wanted me to come relieve her in the bedroom.  After she responded ‘Yes,’ I went in and was greeted with a happily  chattering, wide-awake little boy.  April said that he was nearly sound asleep, and when she tried to move him, he woke up and started talking.  Typical Ronan behavior.  Sleep is for the weak.

About half an hour later, I finally got Ronan back down.  Brock and I had planned on a little grown up time in the bedroom, if you know what I mean.  We were in the guest bedroom, kissing and being all romantical and sweet.  I was laying on the bed watching as Brock lit candles and set them on the ledge above the bed.  I don’t remember what we were talking about but I was focused on how Brock was holding the large glass jar candle upside down and putting the lighter all the way up inside of it to light, when one of the candles fell off the ledge and landed on the top of my head.

Wow.

I clutched the top of my head, moaning “OW OW OW ow ow ow ow ow ow!” until my ow’s turned into sobs, and I couldn’t stop crying.  Brock felt horrible, and held me while I cried telling me, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”  He ran downstairs and got me some ice and Tylenol.  It took me about that long to calm myself down and get my crying under control.  I did that silly thing where I pulled my hands really slowly away from my head to make sure there was no bleeding.  (There was no bleeding.)  Brock kept telling me he was sorry, and I laughed and said that it was okay, it was an accident!  He told me I wasn’t allowed to smile and be happy, because I was the one that got hurt.

So, instead of sweet-happy-love-time, we sat on the couch together and watched House while I iced my noggin.  The lump on my head grew in the shape of a C right behind my hairline, and stuck out of my head by a fingersbreadth.  Probably not the most romantic night we’ve ever had, but at least it was memorable!

Are You Kidding Me?

Posted on by
8

Ronan’s 1 year check up was yesterday morning.  It was his well check as well as his 1 year vaccines.

I’ve always been a little nervous about the vaccination debate, but have constantly come down on the PRO side of the fence.  I’m just far more scared of Ronan dying of Mumps or Polio than I am of him getting Autism.  Truly, I can’t even say I believe there is a link.  I understand that people are concerned about the amounts of toxins in vaccinations – yes, that concerns me too.  But I’m worried about the greater evil at this point, and vaccinating him protects him from diseases that will kill him.

We showed up at the office a little early, and they called us back immediately like they always do.  The first thing I noticed was that our regular nurse wasn’t there.  We’ve had this nurse for every visit since Ronan was born, so it made me a little uncomfortable, but I was sure she would be a perfectly good stand-in.  They checked Ronan’s weight (33.5 pounds), his height (30.5 inches) and his head circumference (I don’t know the number, but it’s 95th percentile.  Huge noggin.)  She asked me if I had an questions, and then left to get the doctor.

The doctor came in, and we addressed all of my concerns (can he chew on toothbrushes? is his heart rate normal when he’s very worked up? is there any reason to take him off of his Prevacid?)  He did the physical examination and told me that Ronan looked fantastic, and that we needed to keep up the good work.  I asked about Ronan’s lack of speech development, and he said it’s so early, don’t worry about it yet.  Then he told me the nurse would be in shortly to give him his shots, and we would be on our way.

The nurse came back in, signed our vaccination card, and prepped her business.  She had me lay Ronan down sideways on the exam table, bent his legs over the side, and leaned into them so he couldn’t kick.  She then alcohol swabbed both of his thighs, apologized to him once, and then started injecting.  She did two in his right leg, and then one in his left.  At this point, he was screaming and squirming so hard he knocked the last syringe off of the table.  I looked down long enough to watch the cap go skittering across the floor.  I watched, mind numb, as she bent down to pick up the cap-less syringe, look at it contemplatively for about 2 seconds, and then proceed to shove the needle into my son’s leg.

The needle that had just been UNCAPPED on the FLOOR.

The whole thing, from start to finish, took less than 30 seconds.  I didn’t even have the time to make a sound of protest before she had injected the contents of the contaminated syringe into my child.  I could feel my face get hot, and my hands start to shake.  She turned around, gathered her things and said, “You’re good to go!” before leaving.  I hadn’t even picked Ronan up off of the table before she was out of the room.

I took a few minutes to gather my emotions, calmed Ronan down and dressed him again.  I put all of our things in the baby bag, and then walked out to check out.  I looked around to locate nurse that had just failed at basic sterile technique as well as basic common sense, and then told the check out lady what had just happened.  She asked me what the name of the nurse was.  Just then, our physician walked up and I asked him, “What was the name of the nurse that took care of us this afternoon?”  He told me, and the check out lady called him around the desk.  She said, “Tell him what you just told me,” and I did.

He looked very concerned, but said, “I don’t think it’s going to be a problem.  Everything will probably be fine.  We will write up an incident report and file it just in case.”

I told him that I didn’t think it would turn into anything, but if it did, I didn’t want to be hit with the, “WHY didn’t you tell us when it happened?”

I then turned around and left.

On my way out, I imagined the doctor going up to the nurse and chewing her out thoroughly for doing something so utterly stupid.  I imagined him telling her that something like that was worth her job.  I imagined her crying because she didn’t know what possessed her to do it, and couldn’t believe it herself.  I don’t know what really happened, but that’s what I imagine.

So far, everything looks fine.  There doesn’t seem to be any redness or irritation, and Ronan’s been a champ just like he always is after shots.  Let’s hope it continues that way.