Archive for March, 2008

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Babble

March 31, 2008

While my multiple infections haven’t exactly improved, things around me have been changing at a dizzying pace, and all for the better. Thanks to a life-saving intervention of modern medicine and M$’s Insurance plan (oh, man, I soooooo want to bemoan how much the American health insurance system sucks, but I’m feeling better than I have in a week so I don’t want to spoil my grateful mood) and a plethora of people who love me, I’m happy to report that I’m not dead! Yay!

Here’s how things have gone from FAIL to WIN for me in three easy steps (please note that the total length of this entry is absurd–feel free to skip down to the summary paragraph if you’ve not the time or the incentive to read all of this):

Step I: Luck out Concerning Your Insurance Plan
Though I didn’t think it was possible, on Thursday, the Soul-Rending Heachache of Doom worsened. This was no mere migraine–it had lasted far too long and was far too painful. I was ready to drive stakes in my eyes from the agony… or at the very least, catch a bus to head to the useless ER again (Aaron was at work). As I knew the journey might involve my passing out, I browsed the M$ insurance website to see if they would cover an ER somewhat closer to us (they do… OMFG, they cover everything). Luckily, I noticed a small number at the bottom of the page: a 24-hour “Health Questions” help line, which claimed to be staffed by registered nurses. I decided it was worth a shot.

The woman on the other end was ridiculously efficient. She confirmed my addresss and phone number, took a full and detailed account of my symptoms, looked up my recent medical history (at least in WA state) electronically and read it back to me, and THEN laid down the awesome: “Okay, this sounds like a genuine emergency. I’m sending a physician from our Mobile Health Unit directly to your apartment.”

Me: “Wait, what? You’re doing what now?”
Her: “You did say you were on your way to the ER, right?”
Me: “Well, yes. But shouldn’t you be recommending that I, um, go there, or something?”
Her: “Oh, no, no no no. From what it sounds like, it would be better if I sent a doctor to your house. They should be there in about an hour. Is that okay?”
Me: “Buh buh buh…”

Shortly after that, a tall, slender woman toting a bag that had to be heavier than she was knocked on my door. Like the nurse, she double-checked my symptoms and pretty much gave me a full physical on my living room couch. Overall, she was approachable, professional, insanely educated, and extremely concerned for my health and the health of Nolan. She double-checked me for preeclampsia symptoms (which I thankfully do not have), screened my headaches, and settled on a final diagnosis of a severe, antibiotic-resistant frontal sinus infection (In your face, ER! I knew this wasn’t a migraine! Pffft, giving me Tylenol… What were they thinking?).

I’m now taking 4000mg per day of Augmentin, a fairly mild mix of penicillan and amoxicillan, and find that life has much improved. Apparently, the reason I’ve been so dizzy and stuffed up was due to the fact that my ears were completely occluded with wax build up. Ewww. When she asked why I didn’t get my symptoms treated earlier, I told her my story of bouncing back and forth between ERs for the past two weeks. 

[My mother later pointed out that it was a good thing that we identified the final infection, because there was a huge possibility that it could have entered my bloodstream and gone septic since I've had it for so long, and there wouldn't have been -anything- that anyone could have done for me then.  So the whole bit about me being happy to report that I'm not dead? ... Yeah, I kind of wasn't kidding about that.]

Anyway, the doctor referred me to a physician nearby and told me to follow up with an MRI if my symptoms don’t start improving in two days (which they have, thankfully). She also said she’d make sure my OB has a copy of all the information from the various care centers. Awesome.

After that, we just… chatted. We chatted about how the MHU actually saves M$ insurance a million dollars per year, we chatted about Aaron, we chatted about how she spent the last four years of her life in Papau, New Guinea treating some of the poorest people in the world. She gave me a plethora of information, both oral and written, about how to maintain my health in the future, including approximations for cancer screening and how to avoid getting sunburned (lol). It lasted an hour and was, quite honestly, the best doctor’s visit I’ve ever had in my life. I’ve had some fairly… “traumatizing” isn’t the right word, but they were pretty scarring experiences, you know? Leads into that whole “not getting help when I need it so things get really bad really quickly” thing I have going on.

Step II: Let Loose the Ladies
Aside from recieving touching notes and calls from friends, Aaron and were also the recipients of no less than a week and a half’s worth of cooked meals yesterday. The Church Ladies (capitalized because though there are only a few of them, they are a force to be reckoned with) collectively realized they hadn’t seen either of us for an entire week and started sniffing around. On Friday, B, the alpha female, nailed down -exactly- how sick I was (“what!? you’re not able to cook right now? what have you been eating!?”) and whipped the rest into action. We’ve since been innudated with calls, brief visits, and food… Oh, heavens, the food!

Huge servings of tortelini, Mexican casserole, chili-soup, chicken and rice (x2!)… And those are just the main courses. We don’t even have enough room in our cabinets for all of the cornbread, muffins, banana bread, cookies and other side dishes (some of which involve vegetables) that we’ve been getting over the past two days. It’s insane.

I was once told by my father (a man who spent three years of his life traveling the Bible Belt and residing at a different Church Lady’s home each week) never to resist Church Ladies when they set out to do something, especially when it’s something that benefits you. “They’re a flood, Cassandra. A flood of good cooks who are generous with their abilities, their time, and their good fortune,” he said. “Besides, any excuse to throw a party is a good excuse to them!” The context of these statements involved my being uncomfortable with the Church Ladies of AZ giving Aaron and I an impromptu wedding reception. Since I had canceled the wedding, I felt guilty having them put such effort into it. It turned out to be an absolute blast–apparently they had as much fun putting it together as our guests had attending, and the results were beautiful.

To make a long story even longer, I’ve always felt uncomfortable accepting the generosity of others (which came to a head in my freshman year of college when I whittled away for three months because I was too proud to ask my friends for a meal once in a while). I’m stupid and stubborn that way.  But since I’m actually too weak to make myself a sandwich and they really are good cooks, I think I’ll try and be more gracious rather than getting my knickers in a knot. (This goes double for April 20th, when the Church Ladies are planning to throw Aaron and I a baby shower. Eep! I didn’t even expect to have one of those! Holy crap!)

Step III: Marry Someone Awesome
Not to be outdone by his elders, Aaron has also been waiting on me hand and foot, as well as keeping up with the housework when he’s been home. This weekend he scoured the kitchen from top to bottom, which included jerry-rigging the screwed up burner on my stove to a level approaching “safe for future use.” He cleaned out my ears using a delicate combination of Q-tips and hydrogen peroxide, which relieved the pressure on my head immensely. He also washed my blanket, filed our taxes, gave me a back rub, and kept me entertained and hydrated while I was awake today.

But, the second sweetest thing he did (first was cleaning out my ears–that’s gross, y’know?) has to be this: after taking out the trash this morning, he led me into the living room and said, “I have a surprise for you!” He reached to open the blinds and before I could hiss at him for letting in the accursed light, I saw this:

lol, snow

Hee. Since it seems I’m the only one in WA that seems to like snow, it feels like he did it just for me. :)

In summary, the Soul-Rending Heachache of Doom has now tapered down to a Minor Pain of Mnd-Crushing +3. The pink eye has also drastically improved, and while I’m still fairly weak, I’m now able to stay awake for a whole day! (Yay!) I have an appointment with my (first ever! whoo!) primary care physician on Monday to follow up on the sinusitis and an ultrasound scheduled this Wednesday to check on Nolan. I’ve been amazed at the depths of my friends’ love for me again and again. Aaron kicks all sorts of booty.

Despite the pain and the fever chills, life’s returning to better-than-normal.

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When It Rains, It Pours

March 25, 2008

I’d recommend skipping this one, honestly. It’s whiny and long, as it has to be to properly explain everything. I couldn’t make this week up if I tried.

Wednesday
My lovely friend Fredah takes me to the OB, who tells me that she’s extremely concerned by the fact that I only weigh 149 pounds (only two pounds heavier than my pre-pregnancy weight). Apparently the reason my arms and legs are look so muscular is that a) I’m doing too much and b) Nolan has already consumed all of my fat stores, which means we are technically both starving. My OB schedules an “emergency ultrasound” (labeled such because the only reason we’d be getting one at this stage in the game is to determine whether there’s something seriously wrong) in two weeks. She tells me that if I don’t start gaining weight immediately, I’ll have to be put on bed rest due to the extremely high risk of premature labor and various other birth defects due to my being underweight.

I have a persistent cold but it’s mild, so I ignore it. By evening, I have a headache.

Thursday
I head into work only to be sent home because I cannot breathe. The headcold I’ve been fighting for close to three weeks has spread into my chest. In a panic, I have Aaron take me to an urgent care center for some antibiotics (no, I don’t have a primary care physican yet… I’ve been lazy). When we arrive, they apologize, saying the wait will be two and a half hours. I ask if there’s another urgent care center in the area, call it, and find out there’s “no wait”. We go to that one instead, only to find out that their only doctor has juuuust entered surgery on someone’s wrist, and we’re dreadfully sorry, but the wait will be close to three hours. Since we’d already given up our spot at the other (much nicer) facility, we stick it out.

The doctor prescribes a five day Z-pack (zitromax; basically amoxicillan) to fight the dual infections. I tell her I have a headache that has lasted all night and all morning. She says it’s the beginnings of a sinus infection and the Z-pack will take care of it. She also diagnoses the little rash on my arm as ringworm. Upon leaving the center we see that our rear passenger tire is completely flat. Aaron drives into a nearby gas station, sees that we’ve run over a screw and changes it. We head to Target and wait an hour for my prescription. Aaron goes to work for three hours and I take a bath because I can’t get to sleep.

Friday
Feeling somewhat better, I head to work. I tell them about the likelihood of bedrest and they say “okay.” My headache explodes by 11am, going from a mild pain in my forehead to a soul-crushing, global agony. My left eye begins burning around the same time. I sob my way through the work day and return home to eat, throw up everything, and sleep fitfully.

Saturday
I sleep throughout the day, waking up every two hours to pee, blow my nose, and generally moan about my head. My left eye is now crusty and red, and leaks a thick discharge. Aaron tries to feed me, but I can’t keep anything down. We both head to Costco in the afternoon to place an order for new tires. The lights and sounds cause me to wish death on whomever invented the warehouse store.

Sunday
See Saturday. By nightfall, I’m in a panic. I’ve never, ever had a headache last this long. Ignoring Aaron’s offers to pick up some Tylenol (by this point I’ve still taken nothing for it), I have him drive me to the urgent care center instead. It’s closed. We locate an emergency room in the nearby town which takes forty-five minutes on bumpy back roads to get to because we can’t use the highways with our spare tire. After waiting for close to two hours in the nicest emergency room I’ve ever seen, they diagnose me with pink eye and rule out everything else concerning the headache. The end diagnosis? Migraine, triggered by muscle tension. They give me 975mg of Tylenol and a prescription for an eye ointment and send us home. As soon as I reach the apartment complex, I throw the Tylenol up in the grass.

Monday
I call work and tell them I have pink eye. They say “okay.” Aaron stays home to care for me and cleans up the kitchen. Stupidly, I worry about what his coworkers think of me, considering how often he’s had to stay home on my account in the psst month. I sleep fitfully, waking only to take in food and medicine, which I again can’t keep down. I estimate I’ve slept 60 our of the past 72 hours. Aaron polishes off some leftovers that had gone bad and suffers all night from diarrhea and a headache. In my state I can’t do anything for him but offer sympathy.

Tuesday
Thankfully, Aaron wakes up feeling fine, and goes to work after making sure I am comfortable. I am not so lucky, and so I call in sick again. Feeling marginally better, I sleep deeply for the first time in days, until the phone rings. Rushing to pick it up, I poke myself in the eye with my nails. It’s work. They tell me that they’ve already found a replacement for my classroom and would I mind coming in for half an hour to train her today? No? What about tomorrow? I say “okay” and hang up. Still in pain, I limp back to the bed. I am overcome with alternating feelings of disappointment, despair, and “well, I’m free now”. I was planning on quitting anyway, but not this soon, and am angry at my body for betraying me.

I try to sleep, but come here to moan and groan instead, thinking it will make me feel a little better. It doesn’t.

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Hypocrite

March 18, 2008

In case you needed evidence that I am a petty, vindictive whiner, a conversation with my husband, circa one month ago:

Me: So I have this coworker, right?
Him: Right.
Me: And she’s just found out last week that’s she’s 4 weeks pregnant.
Him: Good for her.
Me: Yeah, good for her.
Him: … But?
Me: Well, I don’t want to stomp all over a newly pregnant woman, but she’s really annoying about the whole thing. I mean, I know she’s excited and everything, but does she have to remind us that she’s OMGZpregnant!! every fifteen minutes? Plus, she keeps giving me scintilating details about her ex-boyfriend and their wild night of procreatin’, not to mention her bladder infection… Ugh!
Him: Um, okaaaay…
Me: I haven’t told you the worst part yet. She’s started prefacing every sentence with “the baby wants.” She’s a vegetarian, but oh, you have no idea how much her baby wants chicken! Now her baby wants her to poop, isn’t that great? And oh, yes, her baby wants her to have a three hour lunch break! She should know, she’s pregnant! For goodness’ sake, it’s a four-week old embryo. It doesn’t “want” anything. And it’s way, way too early for her to be craving stuff legitimately, so I call b.s.
Him: *mumble mumble*
Me: What?
Him: *The You-Know-What-I’m-Going-To-Say-And-You’re-Not-Going-To-Like-It look*
Me: Oh. Oh no. Tell me I wasn’t doing that.
Him: Well, it wasn’t often, and it wasn’t that bad, but yeah, you were absolutely doing that when you were first pregnant, too.
Me: Noooooo! No way! … Man. I’m pretty bad at this whole not-being-a-hypocrite thing, huh?
Him: *shrug*

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The Ides of March

March 12, 2008

A short time ago I found this incredibly detailed pregnancy calendar which counts out all the days of a pregnancy based on an entered due date. Each day has either a nugget of information about the fetus’ development or an update on what the mother may or may not be feeling, as well as recommendations on more stuff for her to do or not do (because we all know we don’t get enough of those while pregnant).

For example, check out this cool tidbit from Dec. 4, day 87: “Baby is making hormones such as insulin now.”  (According to the calendar, he also starts producing bile at about the same time.  Coooool.)  Or this one on Jan. 30, day 144: “Baby’s nipples now appear on mammary glands.” Or, ooh, ooh, what about this fact from Feb. 20, day 165: “Baby has developed a hand grip reflex and startle reflex.” 

Nolan only weighs two pounds or so, but all of his organs are in place and functioning. He’s already developed the majority of the muscle control he’ll be born with, and researchers suspect he’s already dreaming.  Awesome, no?

But of course, this wouldn’t be a true post from me without some kvetching, so here’s where it turns into a massive FAIL: The entry for my birthday, Mar. 12, day 186?

“Baby is able to cry.”

… Well, forget you, justmommies.com! You and your auspicious calendar! Beware the Ides of March! O Caesar, BEWARE!