Even In First Grade The Rule Is No Secrets

Well, I went for another fetal echocardiogram (yay, another $65 co-pay) during my house arrest period in January. Luckily, this one was in a different department than the last one (please refer to Choices, Choices, Choices). I don't know if I could have handled one more there.

My appointment had been for 1:30 but they had called and requested I come in early, at 12:45, because the doctor needed to leave early that day. I was ecstatic. Certainly, the wait would be diminished if the doctor wanted to leave! When I arrived there was no one in the waiting area. Like, literally, the receptionist was the only person there. I took this as an excellent sign. Well, I'm an idiot. I have been going to appointments several times a month for several months so you would think I would learn a thing or two. You would think wrong. I sat by myself in the waiting room for an hour, watching others come later than me and be called to their various appointments before me.

Finally it was my turn. I wanted to jump and scream like the next contestant on The Price is Right but somehow I held it all inside. It was the same tech that I had had before, for that ultrasound where I may have, okay, DID fart on her. She pretended not to remember and so did I. I think that was best for all parties involved. Luckily she is very nice and very "quirky" so I didn't feel too shameful for the ENTIRE time I was there. I believe I felt just the right amount of shame, actually. Before we even started two doctors came in. I don't have any idea what their names were so let's just call them Twiddly Dee and Twiddly Awkward. Firstly, this was my third fetal echo so I am pretty clear on procedure. The doc never never comes in until the tech finishes getting everything she can. This usually takes at least an hour. Second, I knew the doctor that would be doing the echo and this wasn't her. The twiddlies introduced themselves and then sat down while the tech began the scanning. As the tech was going through all the pieces Twiddly Awkward (who was clearly above Twiddly Dee) was explaining different parts of the anatomy that were being seen and what it should look like and what it might look like if there were a problem. I enjoyed this and thought it was interesting. Well, eventually, they started saying the same type of stuff, nothing specific about me per se but they decided to whisper. It was really weird. There are only 4 people in the room and I can tell they aren't saying anything confidential, just teaching so what is the whispering about? If you came to my classroom I wouldn't spend the entire time whispering to my associate. It's weird. Considering my lack of social adjustment, if I think it's weird then honestly, it must be really weird. So, eventually the main doc, who I am kindof in love with, we'll call her Dr Calm, poked her head in and asked what the progress was. She then told the tech to come get her when she was finished and that would give Twiddly Awkward enough time to do her turn. Insert abrupt scratchy record stop here. What is going on? Apparently Twiddly Awkward is going to look too. It's obviously not a big deal and will help pass the time waiting for Dr Calm but I wonder why she is looking. I have done this enough times to know this isn't standard. In no way did I get any sense that it was cause something was wrong but I was still super curious as to why she was looking. Well, when her turn finally came she was asking the tech a lot of questions about getting a better view and what certain vessels were on the screen so she obviously wasn't an expert. I thought maybe she was doing some data collection type research or just practicing her own skills because she may be a resident or a fellow or something. When she was at the machine I decided perhaps I could talk to her, considering she must be done whispering by now. I asked her what she was looking at, etc etc. All the answer she gave me was that she was looking at the same things the tech had been looking at. Wow. Thanks for that most informative answer. Just so we are clear, I don't care who looks at me or studies me or uses me as a teaching tool. I am at a teaching hospital so I actually hope they are teaching the students. However, I'm not sure why we are being all cloak and dagger about the whole thing. I highly doubt state secrets are depending on you not telling me what you and your Twiddly Dee are learning. As soon as she was done, she said goodbye and left, Twiddly Dee following right on her heels. Eventually Dr Calm came in and finished up. She said everything looked great and reminded me of the problems they cannot see until birth yadda yadda yadda.

Despite the dozens of doctors I have seen since then I have never seen either Twiddly again. I am pretty sure they were the aliens, tracking me through "the mark" (please refer to My First Descent).

Craving Olive Garden Can't Be a Good Sign

After my thoroughly engrossing adventure of hospital stay number one, I was put on house arrest. The only fresh air allowed was taking baby dog out so he didn't crap all over the house. Your mind does crazy things when you watch this much OWN (Oprah Winfrey Network). I find that Olive Garden is possibly the most disgusting restaurant on the planet. I am pretty sure their food comes from a local Chinese Restaurant, is made solely of powdered food products (Lynette, you know what I'm talkin' 'bout girl) and may be used as a weapon of mass destruction should that time come. Well, after a couple weeks trapped in the apartment I started seeing Olive Garden commercials all too often and started to really crave it. Like, my mouth would water at the sight. Don't worry, I didn't give in. I'm just saying "cabin fever" is real.

I wish there were more interesting things to say about being at home but there isn't. Nothing is interesting about watching hours of television interrupted only by a striking need for food and several hundred pee breaks. I was lucky enough to get some visitors that dared enter my existential and literal prison. None of them left alive! Okay, maybe that last part is an exaggeration. Or Maybe it isn't.

My First Descent

This is me looking incredibly attractive for a patient. It's a wonder that all the doctors didn't immediately fall in love with me. They probably did but realized they needed to keep it professional.

This is what Eric did.

These are the chains that bind me to my bed. What would MLK say about this cruel abuse of power?

Ew. IV hookups are creepy and weird.

And they mark you for life. I think this must be how the aliens mark their abductees. So they always know.... Scully knows what I'm talking about.

I Dont Know If Anyone Has Chained You To A Bed.

Well, on the fateful night of Jan 6th...okay, it wasn't night but I think that adds a lot of suspense. Anyway, on that fateful night of January 6th I went to... guess. Come on it's easy. It's literally the only place I am allowed to go. YES. YOU GOT IT! I went to the doctor. The last time I was there my cervix had dropped to 2.2 and when they checked it this time...dun dun dun (that's suspense music)....it was only 1.7. Well, the doctor went into management mode and COMPLETELY freaked me out. They started talking about what would happen if the babies came immediately and the things they were going to do for the babies, etc. Well, I knew I was pretty fond of the babies but apparently I'm actually like really into them because I just started bawling (not that that's rare anymore but it's generally ONLY with Eric). So it's me, the ultrasound doctor and the tech and everyone's just watching me cry and saying really unhelpful things like, "Hey you are at 25 weeks. That's a week past survival." I mean, really? That's the best you can come up with? How about something more like, "We don't know that the babies are coming right now so let's just monitor and find out." Yeah, stick that in your bag of tricks you medical professionals you. Anyway, since my doctor happened to be just down the hall they went and got her. I'm pretty sure they did it mostly because they were just feeling awkward about all the crying. I know I was feeling awkward about it (shocker). She was very nice and helpful but wanted to take me down to her office. So, the list of people who get to see me cry like a little girl who lost her balloon began to grow. First person I pass, Ug (please refer to Whose Urine Is That In There) , on the way out. Then I pass by the main waiting room with it's many patients and the three ladies who work at the desk. Finally we get to her office area where I get to continue my absolute public spectacle in front of 2 receptionists, 3 nurses and another patient. Oh yeah, and some random who came to ask a question. All I can do is keep apologizing for crying and of course everyone is saying it's okay because let's be real my people, what the heck else are you supposed to say to a 175 pound (at the time), gurgling, messy creature? Nothing else. There's nothing else to say.

The nurse practitioner wheeled me over to triage and dropped me off. It's really awkward to be wheeled in a wheelchair in case you were wondering. It makes me feel really self-conscious and just....creepy. Apparently the hospital is also a labyrinth. We had to encounter many strange and frightening creatures as well as take several back alley paths in order to reach our destination. I kindof wondered if NP, let's call her Ms Social, would be crowned queen or at least win the snitch if/when we finally made it. It reminded me of an unfortunate period of time in my life when I had to live at Pace University for Teach For America (This is WAY off topic so bear with me). Every time we wanted to go to our rooms we had to go through a side exterior door that was labeled as the theater. Go to a desk. Show our ID cards. Choose the correct of two elevators. Take that elevator to a certain floor. Get out. Show IDs again. Go to another elevator. Take that to our living floor. Get out. Use a key to enter the main floor doors. Find our room and use another key to enter the room. Heaven forbid you needed to run out for a snack. Back to the story. Getting to triage we had to take certain elevators down to a floor. Get off. Go through a million hallways and through a sort-of tunnel. Get on some other elevators, take them up to the floor triage was on, get out, go through some construction before we finally reached our destination. Whew. But, we did finally make it and it gave me enough time to end the public displays of emotion that had been humiliating me.

Upon arrival, the first thing they do is make you go to the bathroom, take off your clothes and put on a small gown. Sweet. Next they put you on 1 monitor for each baby (so, that's 3) and 1 or 2 Toco monitors (measure contractions) and see what happens. The babies heartbeats were fine and they were showing no signs of distress. I don't know what these babies have to stress about. I feed them and give them blood and carry them everywhere I go and talk to them (but only when I am alone because I look a little nutso otherwise). There were some contractions but they eventually simmered down. Then you wait around for a really long time being denied food and water. It's like prison that way.  In this instance a doctor eventually came in and did a cervical check which is pretty great and really comfortable. She found no dilation or effacement. Then we waited around for a long time again but I was at least allowed water this time. Finally, they had a bed ready in the antepartum ward and we got moved down there. This was like 9:30. I hadn't eaten since 1 and let me tell you, this beast needs to be fed regularly. Since I had a shared room the first night Eric wasn't allowed to stay past 10. We asked the nurse about food and she just said dinner was over but she would look around. She definitely gave me the impression that that was a sillly thing to ask and what could I possibly need food for at this hour? Eventually though she found me a turkey sandwich so I ate and Eric left. The first night I shared my room with a nice lady who didn't speak much English. I stayed up late watching Netflix on my phone and fiddling around. In the morning I introduced myself to her and we actually had a conversation between her few English words and my few Spanish words. She was very nice but was moved in the afternoon. Before nightfall I had another roommate come in, this time a lady who was an orthodox jew and her husband. They were trying to have shabbat but of course that is difficult with millions of people coming in and out.

The first night I was hooked to an IV for fluids to stop the contractions I was having. Being that this was the first time I had been on an IV awake I learned that it is really quite annoying. It's not all glamorous like it is in the movies. The regulator thingymabob (that is the technical term for it) has to be plugged into the wall so every time you want to get up to go pee (which for me is about every 15-45 minutes) you have to unplug it, drag it around with you, and then plug it back in. It's amazing the cognitive ability required to unplug something in the middle of the night! Oh, and if you fall asleep and the bag runs out...yeah, that happened. I finally fall into a medium sleep and this screaming BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP starts going off. I bolt up to a sitting position. I am completely disoriented about being in a foreign place. The thing is going off for about 15 minutes and nobody comes to do anything. I swear on my hamster Hammy's grave you could hear this baby on the other side of the building. Finally I hit the call button and tell them it won't stop going off. Wait another 15 minutes. NOBODY COMES. I don't know about you but I am SOSOSOSO irritible when I am woken up in the middle of the night and this was just pissing me off. Finally I turn the thing off myself only to have it come back on every 3 minutes or so. After about an hour the nurse comes in and is so surprised that it had been going off. Really? So, the incessant beeping as well as me hitting the call button did nothing? Really? Your that surprised? Oooookkkkaayyy.

When I was in the clink this first time, everybody told me the same thing. Enjoy the sleep. Well, after having actually experienced a hospital stay, I can now safely say that you are all ridiculous creatures who have clearly never actually hung out in a hospital. Sleep? When do I do that? When someone's monitor isn't going off? When the nurse isn't coming in during the night to give medicine? When vital checks aren't happening every 5 minutes because certainly my blood pressure must have dropped in the last 11 seconds so we should check AGAIN? Also, I don't know if anyone has chained you to a bed (and I don't think I want to know about it, now that I think through that...) but it's less than comfortable. I had to wear these leg-squeezer machines. They are cloth pieces that wrap around your calves and every couple minutes inflate with air squeezing your legs. Apparently blood clots are frowned upon here. Well, those have to be hooked up to a machine at the bottom of your bed. Good luck rolling over with your legs tied to the end of your bed. So, Yeah, I'll go ahead and enjoy that sleep. All 38 seconds of it. Thanks for the swell advice.

I only got in trouble a few times and it was always for not wearing socks. Maybe all the nurses out there (Anita, Lacey, Aubreigh, etc) can tell me what this strange fascination is with socks that you people seem to have. I don't wear socks because it's approximately 112 degrees in this hospital. The nurses did ask them to try and make the room cooler so it was then about 111 degrees. Back to the point. It's too hot for socks! Yet, every time a nurse came in and noticed I had no socks on she (I had no murses, sadly) would tell me to wear socks and give me more hospital socks. Eric was in heaven because he loves hospital socks and I collected at least 5 pair for him. All ladies sized. I would usually say thank you and assure the sock pusher that I would put them on when I cooled down. Is this why you become nurses? Your sick sock fetishes?

The stay was pretty uneventful. They did NSTs (Non-stress tests) every day where they listen to the babies and monitor contractions for 20 continuous minutes. The babies, at this time anyway, were pretty good about staying on. Honestly, I'm only introducing the NST here because during my next hospital stay they got a loooot (Hahaha, this word looks like loot but its actually lot with superflous o's) more interesting. I watched a lot of television and since the stay was over the weekend Eric was there to entertain and delight me with the snap of my fingers. I snapped for him often.

When Monday rolled around they did an ultrasound to check my cervix and it was 1.9. Since it obviously wasn't shortening too quickly I was deemed stable enough (physically, not mentally, duh) to go home. So...I did. However I had to restrict myself to the house except to take Fenway out front. I made sure I asked the doc about that and she cleared it. Aye Aye Captain.

You want to know the best/most pathetic thing about being in the hospital? It was CHEAPER than not being in the hospital. Hilarious right. Yeah, I'm rolling in laughter.

That Look of An Injured, Wild Animal Captured By the SPCA

We have already discussed how all these hormones are affecting my emotional state, especially when it comes to the presence or absence of cold cereal in the house. Well, let's just say it's not getting any better. Luckily, it's generally Eric who bears the brunt of this most awkward side effect. I can't seem to have a normal 3 minute conversation with the man before erupting into pathetic tears. Not too long ago, he had come home from work and gotten changed. When he came back out to the living room I told him the dog needed to be taken out. In a clearly joking manner he said, "Oh man, you couldn't have told me that BEFORE I took off my boots?" Well, I immediately turned into Niagara Falls, bawling my eyes out as if my dog had died. Of course Eric was freaked out but told me it was fine. He's intelligent like that. Maybe you're wondering why a little joke would upset me so. Well, I wonder the same thing, my friend, every day of my life. I have NO idea. Seriously. I don't know. In my brain I thought it was funny but it didn't seem to matter. After about a half hour I was still crying but by this point I was just crying cause I was so freaked out by my own crying. For those of you who know me, you know I don't do "feelings". Like at all. So crying is like way out of the question. Unless I am watching The Bridges of Madison County or some other incredibly pathetic movie, of course. Even with my first graders I will not speak to them if they are crying. In a very loving way I tell them that they need to go to the bathroom, privately wash their face and stop bawling and then we can have an adult conversation. So, considering I won't let children cry, my own adult crying is constantly creeping me out.

This was bad when it was a once-in-a-while, random occurrence. Well, it's not anymore. Poor Eric still gets all of it too. Over the last few days in the hospital (yes, I solemnly swear to update this blog all the way to the current hospital stay) Eric can't walk in the door without a flood of creepy tears. I should be in a horror movie. The poor man walks in and I'm glad to see him so what do I do? Well, start bawling of course. He comes in and we start talking about our days and what do I do? Start crying, obviously. He eventually has to leave and of course I will miss him so what is the most reasonable and effective course of action? Well, clearly to bawl about it. What were you really expecting me to say? Poor Eric, good grief, he tries so hard to tell me that it's fine. no big deal, he likes it. But he has that same look in his eye as the injured, wild animals captured by the SPCA. I know about this look because I watch a requisite 6 or so hours of Animal Cops every day. The really disturbing thing is that I am pretty sure I have that same look in my eye.

Fenway Likes His Boots...Or I Pretend He Does

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