Man, I Hate This Day

September 11, 2001 - September 11, 2008

My First Family Photo: Mama and Spunketta

"It Happens All The Time"

"It happens all the time," says the medical malpractice lawyer. (At a time that isn't now, I will go into how we backed into a lawyer. it wasn't on purpose).

But apparently, this kind of negligence is "common." Even happened to the lawyer -- his doctor wasn't thorough, so the lawyer nearly died of a detectable, treatable cancer.

Any IFer knows to be aggressive with her doctor.

But now I realize that we all should be equally distrustful, aggressive with every doctor for every member of our families.

And i long for the days when i could trust the white coats.

Cancer, Cancer Everywhere

Okay, I'm pissed.

Here's the thing: for the past few years (YEARS) we have been taking Mama to the doctor every three or four months. EVERY. She has not gone more than six months without seeing a doctor.

So when the oncologist tells me that Mama has breast cancer that spread UNDETECTED for several YEARS I get pissed.

Mama is not in any condition to give herself self-exams. Any and all doctors that we have taken her to see in the past few years have known that. Would have to know that.

And how many doctors, you ask? Four that I can count. There may be more. See, we used to take her to a "doc in the box" that was associated with her daycare. Good in a pinch but not the best.

And not ONE of the four did a full examination.

Of course, then we took her to a very reputable doctor in Manhattan. Who also did not do a full exam.

My mother in law is going to die because none of these doctors did a full exam.

(Just in case you were thinking medical incompetence ended at IF treatment).

Cancer Scare Day 2

At first, it's easy to cope.

There's an edge of tears in my voice, but not too much. Just enough. I have Stuff To Do. I make phone calls. Assemble resources, marshal reserves. And the edge is there, just enough to make people listen a bit more intently, but not so much that they press for details. Something is up, they're sure of it. But what.

It's a few moments before we have to wake and clean and clothe Mama. I know her bed will be soiled with her own waste, I know that every move will be painful for her. And part of me wants to just let her be. (I won't and it's silly to think of it. But.)

What's the quote? About crisis and day-to-day living?

Coping. Harder today than yesterday, but coping.

Cancer

The vet says the cat has cancer.

The doctor says Mama has cancer.

I have to go back to work in 2 weeks.

I need a babysitter.

Mama is going into the hospital on Monday.

The cat is going to have to wait for treatment. We may have to put the cat down.

H held Spunketta and cried. I placed the baby in his arms before I told him.

I haven't cried yet.

I will. When everyone else is taken care of.

watch me cope.

WSJ Infertility Article

http://blogs.wsj.com/health/2008/08/13/fertility-treatments-gain-legal-protection/

Updates

Mama is worse. She no longer moves without screaming, although some of it is pure melodrama. I'm taking her in for a ct scan (spelling?) next week to see what there is to see. We can't have a MRI because Mama has a clip in her head from her brain surgery.

One of our cats (Schpoonky) has an odd growth on her chin. Truth be told, she's had it for some time, but this is the first time that we've had time to breathe and look at the needs of the non-humans in the family. The local vet is clueless, so I'm taking the cat to a specialist in Manhattan.

Spunketta is good. H is good. I am good.

I do NOT want to go to work next month.

How are you?

In No Particular Order

I'm tired. Which, frankly, has been my first thought sooo many times when I look at this blank blog form. But today I finally say it.

Mama is not doing well. She's having rolling pains in her back. By "rolling" i mean sometimes she has them, sometimes she doesn't, sometimes they're here, sometimes they're there. These pains started showing up as my belly got too large to be ignored; some have asked if there's a connection. (As in, she's got pain to get more of our attention).

And get more of our attention she has... she now cannot walk without assistance, has to be wheeled everywhere in her chair. Cannot (or will not) dress herself. Soils herself aggressively.

Spunketta is doing well. He needs to be fed every three hours no matter what. Which means I don't get to sleep more than three hours no matter what. I feed him for a half hour, he's good for about a half hour (or so) after that, and then he cries unceasingly until I feed him again.

H, my husband, does well on some days, not so well on others. He's smoking again, and drinking a bit more than I'm comfortable with. You can imagine, the pressure on him is incredible. He's the one (more often than not) wheeling Mama around and dealing with her soilage. I try not to ask him for anything with regard to the baby, but.

And that leaves me. And I'm tired. Happy, thankful, stressed. Tired.

What happens now

It's like this:

at one point in the hospital, one day that H actually made it to visit me (and Spunketta). H was playing and holding and cooing Spunketta (as you do). And at one point, H looks up at me, a look of vague panic dancing across his face, and H asks me

"Does this seem real to you?"

No, I answered.

H nodded in agreement. "Doesn't it seem as though any minute someone's going to come in and say, whoops! Sorry! Not you, not your baby. Give him back; you're IF."

It was my turn to nod in agreement.

Having a baby, giving birth, does not make me feel less IF. Hell; not being PREGNANT makes me anxious. I could explain, but it doesn't make a lot of sense.

BUT. As much as I feel a continued sisterhood with the IFers of the world, I realize that some IFers do not want to read the blog of someone with a child. *I* do not like to read blogs of folks with babies and kids. At least not those who blog about said child and kids. So if you're going to part ways with my blog... I get it, and God bless.

If you want to continue to read my blog... well, I don't really know where I'm going with it. I may become the kind of blog I don't read (about babies). I may look a gift horse in the mouth, and whine about the baby. I may just put up Mama stories.

I don't know.

So. Buckle up for the ride. And thanks for flying Sandwich Life...

Bear Update

No one knows nothing. Apparently the Bear (cleverly named "Teddy") evaporated. My husband assures me that the day charge nurse, the night charge nurse, all cleaning people and a few other folks have been asked. No one knows nothing.

I gave birth at New York Presbyterian, one of the "top ten hospitals." And I have no complaints. EXCEPT where's my stuff?

Humpf.

Birth and Bear

Spunketta was born June 5, 2008.

I had contractions from 3:30AM until 9:00PM, at which point I got an epidural and thanked God for drugs. (I was one of those who wanted natural childbirth. Out the window...)

About 11:00PM, they broke my water. Spunketta's heart rate went down seriously, due to the fact (we later found out) he had the umbilical cord wrapped twice (not just once) around his neck.

Enter the emergency c-section.

We're all well (although I have developed some complications -- more after tomorrow when i see my doctor for my follow up).

But! I had this teddy bear -- my father gave it to my mother when they found out they were pregnant with me. My mother used it to practice swaddling and diaper changing. I had had this Bear all my life, and he had accompanied me to many an IF appointments. I held him in my hand when they implanted what became my son.

But I left him in the labor room (when they wheeled me into surgery) and no one has seen him since.

So happiness, but sadness too. Everyone has said something to the effect of swapping a treasured artifact for a live child is an equitable trade. I just wonder why God always has to take something from me to give.

More later...

I'm coming back

gimme a moment...

May 29

Have you ever had a day that's more than a day? It's a milestone, a watermark, heck it's a movie (complete with A, B and C plotlines).

Welcome to May 29.

The C plotline was this: Mama needed her M-11-Q filled out. This is an annual form that her doctor fills out and authorizes Medicaid to give her Home Care Attendants. Without it, no help. Sooo... kind of an important form, eh?

Anyway, the form is usually filled out in April, but about the time we should have been following up on it I was in the hospital. So our caseworker called us up in a panic to tell us that we needed to get the form filled out and filed by guess what date. (Yup, May 29).

Only Mama's current doctor does not fill out M11Q's. (What the...?) So I had to get her a new doctor (lots and lots of phone calls) to find someone who would see her and fill out the form tout de suite.

Nice.

The B Plotline: You remember how where I work was going belly up? Yeah. Well, after many (MANY MANY) weeks of nothing but rumor, speculation and innuendo, we got a hard deadline: GUESS WHAT DATE! Yup May 29. Going to be our last day at work. Much emotion, good, bad and short, went around. And! And! *I* was chosen to be retained/transferred over to the other division. So the morning of May 29, I was the only one who had a job. Of ANYONE in my little division.

Nice.

The A Plotline: You remember how I had to still be pregnant by a certain date to qualify for paid maternity leave? Yeah. By now, you know the date. May 29.

Nice.

So. Who wants to hear what happened on May 29?

As has been his habit, H took me to work. He held my hand extra hard and extra long and I kept breathing hard in and out. It was so hard to believe that I was actually going to be able to make it. I was giddy when I punched in that morning, humming Queen songs to myself. I was the champion.

H went home to take Mama to her doctor's appointment, and I tempered my good mood. I was the only one in a good mood. One co-worker remembered that it was my anniversary and congratulated me, but most didn't care about me. Heck, more than a few were a bit hostile to me. "You know they only hired you because you're pregnant," one spat out at me.

Nice.

H does not usually take Mama to appointments that need forms: I do. Same for appointments in the city. I arranged for NYC transit's Access-A-Ride to pick H and Mama up. Except that H did not understand that you have to be there EARLY, and missed the shuttle bus. He called me in a panic: what do I do now? Mama cannot walk far, H had left his wallet at work (so, no ATM card or the like) and only had about $20 on him. Cost of car service to the appointment? $24. What to do! What to do!

I remembered that we had emergency cash stashed somewhere and off they went. H called every half hour or so with a new emergency. Where's the Medicare card (lost). The Medicaid card? (lost). Where's the M-11-Q form? Etc.

Periodically, at work, one of the fellas that we work for (our division provided support, let's say) would come in with a problem. I was the only one who cared to find resolutions. Everyone else... well, it was the last day. What did they care?

At the end, I was so drained. I asked my boss if I could go home early and was told NO. H agreed to come get me and I sat outside my building shell shocked.

I haven't told the story well. But. it was a heckuva day.

More Blood (but it's okay. kinda.)

H asked me the other day if I had stopped blogging.

"No," I replied.

"No?" He continued, "because you certainly haven't posted in a while."

"Well," I began, trying to defend my inactivity "I just haven't had much to say. And what I do have to say is whining. And it seems so wrong to whine when I have what I wanted most in life."

"Ah," H said and wisely dropped to topic.

So. Sorry to be so away for so long, but. See above for my wimpy excuse. Which is not excusable.

And now the highlights.

As the title says, I'm bleeding. (Again). I went running to the emergency room of the hospital. (Again).

But! (and this is a big ol' but) it turns out ***OVERSHARE ALERT*** I have a yeast infection, and said infection is causing my girly innards to have the consistency of an overripe peach. So the baby's fine, the placenta is fine, the fluid is fine, but the cervix is NOT having a good day. And when my doc goes in for an exam to see if I'm dilated, I can count on spotting for the next three days.

So unless I get it under control, she may induce me next Thursday. YIKES.

As to the job... heh. FUNNY STORY! I've been picked to go over to another division. The relationship between my new division and where I work now is complicated. But

23 Days

Do we have our first L.amaz.e class last night.

And the instructor tells us that we will be going around the circle, telling a little bit about ourselves. (I always hate this part).

We're early in the circle; the couples go on and on. Happily, we're not the oldest (though we're up there). Almost everyone is a first-timer (who would go to L.amaz.e class twice?) And we're pretty vanilla -- all boy-girl boy-girl.

H leans over and tells me, "You should tell them about your job difficulties."

I think, no. And when it's my turn, I tell them about Mama. (Mama no longer greets me by name. She says hello and goodbye to SPUNKETTA, using his proper name, but me? I have been DEMOTED.).

The class gets a chuckle and we move on.

Then the last couple speaks.

She is a Human Resources Specialist in the parent company that owns the company division that I work at. That went bankrupt. Or translated, she will probably know if I have a job before I do. (He works elsewhere in the parent company).

DAMN I hate it when H is right (and I am WRONG). (I mean WHAT ARE THE ODDS?)

Still think that L.amaz.e class is not the place to "network." But. BUT. Will definitely be shooting to get our mat next to hers next time...

Wish us luck, eh?

29 Days

Spunketta Update:
He's good. They're estimating him at about 4 pounds, if he were to come today, WHICH HE IS NOT GOING TO DO (do you hear me, boy?). My OB says that if what happened before (the bleeding, the abruption, etc.) happens again, then I have it. Him. Done.

Which is a little... unnerving. I need more time.

And now, back to ME.

Remember when I said that the company that I work for was facing bankruptcy?

It's complicated, but it's going to happen. Please don't ask me to explain, because I don't understand it completely. And what I do understand isn't appropriate to blog about. Let me just boil it down for you:

The future of my job is uncertain. (Still). They are painstakingly restructuring, and I don't know how that will impact me. (Still). Rumors are flying and hard facts are scare. (Still).

It's nuts.

I have various friends and family asking me if its been resolved yet, and when I say no, they look at me slack jawed. "How could this go on so long?" (I don't know). "Well, when will you know?" (I don't know). "Do you think you'll keep your job?" (I don't know).

Etc.

My favorite question, and the only one with a unique answer, is "Well, what's it like there?" My responses range from "It's like being in a waiting room" to ripostes far FAR more dark. Suffice it to say, it's surreal.

Another woman in my department is pregnant. She works a different shift, so I rarely see her, but every so often we cross paths. She and I have taken completely different strategies with regard to the possible losing of our jobs. I have been very, shall we say, vocal with my HR department about letting them know I am p. She hasn't "officially" told anyone yet, and she's due the week after me. She's thinking they'll be more inclined to fire a pregnant woman; I'm hoping they will be less (and if they do fire me, maybe I'll get a little extra in my severance package).

I have no clue.

I am stressed, I am tired, I am not prepared. For any of it.

I am pregnant.

All Better

When I was googling the HECK out of "marginal placenta previa" and "placental abruption", every website I found said it was kind of irreversible. Intimated that "someone" with the condition would be on bedrest until baby came. Nothing to be done; this kind of thing doesn't fix itself.

Mine reversed. I'm off bedrest, and latest sonogram look like it never happened. It fixed itself.

Take THAT world wide web.

I still have a low lying placenta, and can't do much but I AM OKAY. And, more importantly, the future soccer star now known as Spunketta is okay.

And that's nice.

Now. How are YOU?

Back From The Hospital

Okay, the high points: I had (have?) a placental abruption. Which we hope is either mended or mending. I was admitted into the hospital on Thursday, discharged this morning. Instructed to be on bedrest for the whole week and then see my doctor next week. Oh, and if I have any blood or discharge or pain, I am to come back immediately.

Hi, how was your weekend?

The long version: Thursday morning, I woke up about 1:00AM convinced I was bleeding. I checked myself quickly, and thought everything was okay. I rolled over and went back to sleep.

In the morning, I found out that my dream was right. Not a lot of blood, but BLOOD. I called the doctor's office, who transferred me to the doctor on call. She said come in immediately. This was 5:00AM.

But we couldn't.

H and I showered and dressed quickly. Then it was Mama's turn, and she does NOTHING quickly. I sat on the sofa and panicked. I was ready to wake the neighbors, tap on the super's door, ANYTHING to get me out of that door a little quicker. H was calm and insistent. We were not going to disrupt Mama's morning routine.

So we bathed her, fed her, gave her the morning pills. And the whole time, I am dying inside, hoping that whatever is going on with me is not time sensitive because the doctor ordered me in an hour ago, ninety minutes ago, two hours ago and I am still not there.

H kept insisting, the entire time, that it was nothing. Thought it was urinary. Nothing to worry about.

Anyway. We get to the hospital about 8:30PM. H starts to wax poetic about the last time he was in the neighborhood (the hospital is no where near our house) and how Malcolm X was shot across the street and starts this long anecdote that I do not have the patience of flat out mental ability to follow. I say "whatever" and that throws H into an incredible snit. He throws a small tantrum in the elevator as we're on our way up to labor and delivery about how insensitive I am.
I am in an awesome mood, let me tell you.

We check in and, as always, the first thing they want is your insurance. H answers all the questions for me, my name, my DOB, etc. The insurance intake clerk thinks its funny, and she and H fall into an easy camaraderie. Laughing, joking. I'm just numb.

When we're alone again, I apologize to H for being insensitive but point out to him that I'm a little stressed. He continues his snit and tells me I should be handling it better.

I get taken to triage, where they give me a gown and hook me up to fetal monitors. Apparently, I am having contractions, although I don't realize it. They put me on an IV, which took two nurses and four attempts.

I'm examined and found to be bleeding from my OS. What the hell's an OS? Here I thought of myself as this knowledgeable IF'er, and I don't know I have an OS? (The nurse kindly draws a picture).

A sonogram is ordered. An actual doctor is on his way. Phrases are being bandied about like placenta previa, placental abruption, preterm labor.

H keeps calling home, but Mama is not picking up the phone. He was too self-conscious to tap on neighbors' doors for help, and so convinced that this was going to be nothing that he left Mama home alone. Which we cannot do.

So he leaves me there, to cope with whatever's going on while he goes home to take care of his mother.

I try to put a brave face on it, but as soon as he goes, I am sobbing. I had been crying in the car (which irritated H no end; he accused me of using my tears to manipulate him).

I realize I have absolutely no one to call. No one who can or will drop everything and come to me and hold my hand and tell me everything will be all right. I'm all alone.

I get admitted into the high risk wing, which is (realtively) easy. My nurse is young and chipper and gets me food and water (my first of the day). She shoots me with a steroid "in case you give birth today" and gets ahold of my drugs, which I had completely forgotten to take.

And then I wait.

By this point, I've got an IV, a fetal monitor, a contraction monitor (does that thing have a name?), a blood pressure cuff and that thing they put on your fingertip. If I want to go to the bathroom, I have to call for assistance.

I keep asking for water, refilling my bottle with tap water and while away the day. There is nothing like a clock in the room, and I am amazed when lunch and then dinner show up. And when my brother shows up.

H shows up sometime later, having stopped off to do some shopping (He's all excited -- he decided to get a new electric toothbrush).

At this point, I'm feeling kind of hopeful. The blood is less and less and less. Almost non-existent. My (actual, real-life) doctor has shown up to check on me. I start to think, this might be over soon.

And then Spunketta's heart rate slows. Twice. Within a fifteen minute window. Slows below the 110 level they're looking for.

"If this continues, we're delivering you tonight," my doctor pronounces.

My brother leaves (previous engagement) and H and I try to process what the doctor's saying.
"So should I stay?" H asks the doctor. Once again, he has left Mama home alone, which we cannot do. So now he's faced with risking her safety or risking not being there when I (if I) go into labor.

I'm not happy about H leaving, but he insists. Mama needs to be taken care of. He promises me that he will be in Friday morning FIRST THING to see me. 5:00AM he says he will be there.
I go on my left side and I do not move. And I mean, I DO NOT MOVE. Certain postures make it hard to track the baby; I'm going to make it as easy as possible for everyone involved. (Um. Except me).

I meet with the anesthesiologist. Just in case I go into labor. I meet with the NICU doctor. Just in case I go into labor. I still don't move. Just to keep me from having to go into labor.

The night goes well. The discharge continues to be less and less; Spunketta tracks well. I get up every few hours to bo to the bathroom and stretch. By this time, in addition to the other gear, I've got "pressure booties" around my legs, to make sure no clots develop.

I'm told early Friday monring that inducing delivery is off the table (temporarily, anyway) and I try to call H. And try. And try.

Turns out that my husband went home, got drunk and turned off all the phones. For what ever reason, H just checked out of what was going on.

Great.

I see another parade of doctors, residents, nurses, nurse practioners, nurses assistants. At this point, they're thinking that I'm out of the woods, but that we're going to wait and see to make sure.

My brother shows up just in time to move me from the high risk room to the "antepartum" (?) room. The nurse asks if he's my husband. Huh.

We monitor some more (all's good). We monitor after that (still good). I finally gt the okay to leave; all I have to do is locate someone to take me home. (Because you absolutely, positively have to have someone take you home).

Finally I locate my husband, and we're off.

And we're fine.

But YIKES.

We are so not ready for this...

I'm Bleeding

..and the doctor says "come to the hospital." Labor and delivery, as a matter of fact.

Only we can't, because we need to find Mama coverage.

(And yes, I KNOW we should have mapped that out beforehand, but H kpt saying it was too early).

Which it is.

For everything.