When I mean the better half, I mean the part where I finish cooking everything but didn’t get to eat any of it. Since I was released from the hospital Monday after giving birth to my sweet daughter I’ve had pains. Not the typical birth pains; the uterus shrinking and crotch stitches pain, this pain was different. The sharp pains increased in intensity and length by each passing day, the pain was so bad I had to call 911…on Thanksgiving. I had Maya on the 22nd and was fine for the most part, so this scared the shit out of me.
I was crying, breathing heavily, screaming, moaning, wishing I was going into labor because those pains were tolerable. You didn’t hear a squeal, a scream, a moan, or a groan the entire time I was on pitocin and was dilating. I handled those contractions like a pro; did my breathing and was doing fine. The shit-storm that was the right side of my abdomen was something else. It was 100x more painful than anything I’ve ever experienced.
The pains were sharp and they were angry. When I moved, it made them worse. Getting me out of my apartment and into the ambulance took some work because every movement hurt. Let’s fast forward a bit…
I’m at the hospital and the doctors are looking at me wondering why I was there. Yea, I was JUST there last week and was transported to have Maya. Well here I am again in their emergency room. They couldn’t tell me what was wrong. The had me get a CT Scan – never had one of those before. I had to drink this contrast at it was disgusting. It was like drinking water, Gatorade and Robitussin all at once, the aftertaste was that of nightmares. They finished with the CT Scan and saw nothing wrong, so they scheduled an ultrasound and that’s when they found something.
They saw what they believed to be afterbirth. They tell me that this needs to be removed because it could be toxic, it could be necrotic and I could die. Then a nurse tells me that one of her colleagues friends died with her baby in her arms from this same shit. Well if I needed a more better reason to get transported – again to Akron City, that was it.
They examined me, pumped me full of pain drugs, antibiotics and anti-nausea meds prior to telling me all of this so I was sitting there nodding off because I was so relaxed as they were talking to me. Telling me that horror story woke me right-the-fuck-up.
I’m still like the only one in the emergency room and I’m starving. They tell me that I can’t eat anything yet because I may need surgery when I’m transported to Akron City. I’m freaking the-fuck out because I left my home in only my maxi nightgown, a scarf on my head, and my tennis shoes. My fiancé didn’t get to grab my coat or socks because he was holding Maya while checking on me. There were so many emergency techs in my home that it was understandable. There was also that I would be stranded in Akron if I were to go. The hospital I was at was right up the street from me. So I’d be in Akron on Thanksgiving, alone, stranded, in a nightgown and tennis shoes with there being 2-3 inches of snow on the ground. Lucky me. I didn’t want to die though; especially since I was really starting to enjoy life. It took me too damn long to find happiness and I didn’t want to die before I got to really enjoy it.
Well I got on the phone and called my ex-mother-in-law and she was more than willing to help me. She told me she’d bring me clothes and take me home. She stayed in Cleveland and it snowed really badly up there. I was very grateful for her. She, too didn’t want me to die. After I made those arrangements, I felt better leaving and being transported to Akron…again.
Now I’m in Akron in the emergency room and 5 different doctors and nurses come in to ask me what happened and what was wrong. I must have the patience of a saint in this department and not know it because anyone else probably would have went insane due to the amount of times they’d have to repeat themselves. They all had a confused look on their faces because the ultrasound, the lack of symptoms and my pains weren’t adding up so they had to ask me the same questions differently. I tried to explain to them the best way I could what was wrong. They then tell me that it doesn’t sound like I needed such a dangerous and invasive surgery. I didn’t have a fever, I wasn’t bleeding profusely, my urine wasn’t burning, and I was vomiting or had any other symptoms that would call for that there was a fuck-ton of afterbirth still inside of me. So they sent me home with Percocet and two different types of antibiotics…yay, more pills.
And that’s how I spent my first turkey day with my family in two different ER’s.