Today, I woke up with the same pain I felt the day I needed surgery (but didn't know it yet). I wasn't bleeding but I was very worried that something was wrong and I would need surgery again. God forbid if they had to reopen my scars.
How awful would that be?
I called the Kaiser Advice Line again hoping they would shed some light and tell me that there was nothing to worry about. After a series of questions, the nurse admitted not being too familiar with methotrexate. She read me the same information I was given on Friday but that didn't address the pain and if I was having a bad reaction to the medication. She put me on hold so she could confer with the OB-GYN on call.
When the nurse got back on the line, she said that the doctor wasn't worried. I wasn't bleeding, I didn't have a fever and my wounds weren't infected. (Thank goodness for that, ugh.) I was having strong abdominal pain because the methotrexate was doing its job.
I had forgotten that way back when the doctors were talking to me about surgery versus methotrexate, I had learned that one of the downfalls to taking the medication was that it simulated a miscarriage. How could I forget that?
Having a D & C and, most recently, surgery, that was something I hadn't experienced yet - going through a natural miscarriage. While this isn't truly natural, the physical experience, according to my doctor, is very similar if not the same.
I'm trying so hard not to wallow in self-pity. I know there are women who have suffered far more than I and that there are far worse situations in this world. To just about everyone, I've been upbeat and not been nearly as negative about all of this as I have on this blog. I have been very matter-a-fact at work and jumped right back into the j-o-b.
But if I don't release it somewhere, all my anger, frustration and sadness, I think I'll explode. Worse, at a completely inappropriate place like work.
So forgive the wallowing (or not) but I'm so angry and upset that I've had two miscarriages in four months and that the last one comes with the two-for-one bonus of surgery AND the physical pain of going through a miscarriage naturally.
It just doesn't seem to ever end. Go away, already.
Monday, September 03, 2012
Saturday, September 01, 2012
Like a punk ass, I'm angry
Yesterday, I received a call. I saw on my caller ID that it was my doctor. I had done lab work twice since the surgery and knew he was calling me to tell me I was in the clear. I was slammed at work because I was still catching up from the six days I missed and also because it is THE busiest time of the year, work-wise. I thought about sending him to voicemail but then thought, heck, this guy cut me up, I should be respectful and answer his call. So I picked it up.
I should have known better and taken the call in privacy, not in cubicle land at work.
After asking me how I was feeling and I guess a little surprised that I said I was fine (this should have tipped me off) he said he was sorry to tell me that while the first lab tests were fine, my more recent results showed a presence of pregnancy hormones. This meant that there was still viable pregnancy tissue, not to be confused with a viable pregnancy (because that's laughable when it concerns my body - yes, bitter sarcasm right there). This pregnancy tissue in my Fallopian tube will grow and cause damage. I needed to come in to the hospital to take methotrexate. Yes, the drug I had a choice of taking in lieu of the surgery but, oh goodie, I get to take it anyway.
Folks, I am not a workaholic. But I was tired of this FUCKING ABNORMAL PREGNANCY THAT WILL NOT GO AWAY affecting my life. All of this and no baby in the end. Wouldn't you be fucking sick and tired?
I had back-to-back appointments all day, the last one being roughly an hour away from home. I asked the doctor if I could get medicine administered in the evening.
"No, unfortunately the lab can't do it, it has to be administered by a doctor or nurse."
"Can I come in tomorrow or sometime in the weekend?" I asked.
"Our offices aren't open and it's important you get this done right away. I'm calling you two days after your lab work so your levels have most likely increased."
Well, shit. So I said, "Can I come Tuesday? I have really important meetings today that I can't miss."
I know, I sounded like an asshole but the meeting in South San Francisco was a catered reception specifically scheduled, then rescheduled, so I could attend and make a presentation.
My irritated doctor responded, "We're talking about your health here."
Shit, shit, shit.
I agreed and told him I would cancel the meeting and work on getting there early this afternoon. Before you think he's the most awesome person for thinking about my health when I clearly am too mad and lame to do so, let me share how the rest of the day goes.
I only shedded a few tears at my cube. I still had to pull it together for a morning meeting and I was bringing along my intern. On my way to that meeting, I made a call to my afternoon appointment to let them know I had a medical complication that needed immediate attention. I was very apologetic. They really want a rep to be there. I then called and pleaded with my boss to see if she could go. She knew the entire situation so she moved her day around to help. After my first meeting, it was already the afternoon. I dropped of my intern back at work and then emotionally fell apart and tearfully called The Man to see if he could come with me. He was off work but I hadn't called him about any of this until I was on my way to the hospital. I meant it when I said work was crazy busy.
I picked up The Man and then headed to the hospital. I followed my doctor's orders to go to the lab first. Miracle of miracles, there was no one waiting. Seriously, I've never seen it like this. I thought to myself, what a small perk to a cruddy day. We were out of there within minutes. Then I went to my doctor's station (if you have Kaiser, you know what mean.) The receptionist was perplexed by my presence because I wasn't on the schedule. I let her know my doctor had called me earlier in the morning and insisted I needed to come in. Still a blank face. But she called his nurse to get it straightened out. His nurse came out a few minutes later to let me know there is a specific area with a nurse who administered the methotrexate.
We walked to a different station, checked in and waited.
The nurse came out 15 minutes later and apologized. "I'm waiting on the pharmacy to bring up the medication. Because they have to mix it, it could take 15 minutes to a half hour."
We waited. For 45 minutes. I kid you not when I went to the receptionist to ask how much longer and she exclaimed, "You're still here?!"
An hour and forty-five minutes later (What. The. Fuck.), the nurse called my name and then profusely apologized. She said that the medication was finally ready. I knew it wasn't her fault. Her office was supposed to close at 4:00 and it was already 5:15 PM. I told her I didn't blame her to which she replied, "Blame Dr. Young. He was supposed to call this in to the pharmacy. He knows the protocol."
I was surprised by this. "But I told him I was on my way four hours ago."
"He called me to let me know," she responded, "but he's the only who has to call it into the pharmacy because of the type of medication it is and he never did. The pharmacy was confused when I called to find out the status and we had to wait for them to get in touch with Dr. Young before they could make it. It can take up to a couple of hours to make this so that's why you waited such a long time rather than it being done by the time you got here."
Fucking Dr. Young. (I know I'm swearing far more in this post than I ever have before. But I'm telling you, I'm angry.)
I won't lie, I'm no toughie and my tolerance for pain is pretty low. But when she stuck the big needle in my right hip, I cried out loud and jerked. That shit hurt bad. Then it burned. I cried because of the pain. I cried because I was also still dealing with a bullshit pregnancy that wasn't a real pregnancy. I was angry because I was still getting hurt for something that would never be. And I was so so mad about it all.
The second shot didn't hurt as bad but I think I worried the nurse from my first reaction. She asked me of I had ever taken methotrexate. I told her no.
"I'm so sorry to ask you this, especially after you've waited for so long. But I want to make sure you don't have a reaction. Can you stay for 15 more minutes?"
Sure. Why the fuck not. We had already been there for 2 1/2 hours.
I left the room and The Man looked worried because of my tears. He asked if it hurt and I said yes. I sat down and we held hands. A few minutes later,he said, "I understand if you don't want to try anymore. I know you said not this year but you would want to try next year. I understand if you changed your mind."
I just don't know about any of this anymore.
- Posted using BlogPress via iPhone
I should have known better and taken the call in privacy, not in cubicle land at work.
After asking me how I was feeling and I guess a little surprised that I said I was fine (this should have tipped me off) he said he was sorry to tell me that while the first lab tests were fine, my more recent results showed a presence of pregnancy hormones. This meant that there was still viable pregnancy tissue, not to be confused with a viable pregnancy (because that's laughable when it concerns my body - yes, bitter sarcasm right there). This pregnancy tissue in my Fallopian tube will grow and cause damage. I needed to come in to the hospital to take methotrexate. Yes, the drug I had a choice of taking in lieu of the surgery but, oh goodie, I get to take it anyway.
Folks, I am not a workaholic. But I was tired of this FUCKING ABNORMAL PREGNANCY THAT WILL NOT GO AWAY affecting my life. All of this and no baby in the end. Wouldn't you be fucking sick and tired?
I had back-to-back appointments all day, the last one being roughly an hour away from home. I asked the doctor if I could get medicine administered in the evening.
"No, unfortunately the lab can't do it, it has to be administered by a doctor or nurse."
"Can I come in tomorrow or sometime in the weekend?" I asked.
"Our offices aren't open and it's important you get this done right away. I'm calling you two days after your lab work so your levels have most likely increased."
Well, shit. So I said, "Can I come Tuesday? I have really important meetings today that I can't miss."
I know, I sounded like an asshole but the meeting in South San Francisco was a catered reception specifically scheduled, then rescheduled, so I could attend and make a presentation.
My irritated doctor responded, "We're talking about your health here."
Shit, shit, shit.
I agreed and told him I would cancel the meeting and work on getting there early this afternoon. Before you think he's the most awesome person for thinking about my health when I clearly am too mad and lame to do so, let me share how the rest of the day goes.
I only shedded a few tears at my cube. I still had to pull it together for a morning meeting and I was bringing along my intern. On my way to that meeting, I made a call to my afternoon appointment to let them know I had a medical complication that needed immediate attention. I was very apologetic. They really want a rep to be there. I then called and pleaded with my boss to see if she could go. She knew the entire situation so she moved her day around to help. After my first meeting, it was already the afternoon. I dropped of my intern back at work and then emotionally fell apart and tearfully called The Man to see if he could come with me. He was off work but I hadn't called him about any of this until I was on my way to the hospital. I meant it when I said work was crazy busy.
I picked up The Man and then headed to the hospital. I followed my doctor's orders to go to the lab first. Miracle of miracles, there was no one waiting. Seriously, I've never seen it like this. I thought to myself, what a small perk to a cruddy day. We were out of there within minutes. Then I went to my doctor's station (if you have Kaiser, you know what mean.) The receptionist was perplexed by my presence because I wasn't on the schedule. I let her know my doctor had called me earlier in the morning and insisted I needed to come in. Still a blank face. But she called his nurse to get it straightened out. His nurse came out a few minutes later to let me know there is a specific area with a nurse who administered the methotrexate.
We walked to a different station, checked in and waited.
The nurse came out 15 minutes later and apologized. "I'm waiting on the pharmacy to bring up the medication. Because they have to mix it, it could take 15 minutes to a half hour."
We waited. For 45 minutes. I kid you not when I went to the receptionist to ask how much longer and she exclaimed, "You're still here?!"
An hour and forty-five minutes later (What. The. Fuck.), the nurse called my name and then profusely apologized. She said that the medication was finally ready. I knew it wasn't her fault. Her office was supposed to close at 4:00 and it was already 5:15 PM. I told her I didn't blame her to which she replied, "Blame Dr. Young. He was supposed to call this in to the pharmacy. He knows the protocol."
I was surprised by this. "But I told him I was on my way four hours ago."
"He called me to let me know," she responded, "but he's the only who has to call it into the pharmacy because of the type of medication it is and he never did. The pharmacy was confused when I called to find out the status and we had to wait for them to get in touch with Dr. Young before they could make it. It can take up to a couple of hours to make this so that's why you waited such a long time rather than it being done by the time you got here."
Fucking Dr. Young. (I know I'm swearing far more in this post than I ever have before. But I'm telling you, I'm angry.)
I won't lie, I'm no toughie and my tolerance for pain is pretty low. But when she stuck the big needle in my right hip, I cried out loud and jerked. That shit hurt bad. Then it burned. I cried because of the pain. I cried because I was also still dealing with a bullshit pregnancy that wasn't a real pregnancy. I was angry because I was still getting hurt for something that would never be. And I was so so mad about it all.
The second shot didn't hurt as bad but I think I worried the nurse from my first reaction. She asked me of I had ever taken methotrexate. I told her no.
"I'm so sorry to ask you this, especially after you've waited for so long. But I want to make sure you don't have a reaction. Can you stay for 15 more minutes?"
Sure. Why the fuck not. We had already been there for 2 1/2 hours.
I left the room and The Man looked worried because of my tears. He asked if it hurt and I said yes. I sat down and we held hands. A few minutes later,he said, "I understand if you don't want to try anymore. I know you said not this year but you would want to try next year. I understand if you changed your mind."
I just don't know about any of this anymore.
- Posted using BlogPress via iPhone
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