Seriously, I’m pretty much done with this. As I type, I’m sitting here feeling dizzy and nauseous and a little bit in pain even though I’ve taken some pretty serious painkillers. I’ve been on antibiotics for a week now and I’m really ready to be done with feeling sick. It’s been a rough couple of weeks. First there was the initial shock of finding out that I’d miscarried, and the emotional pain that went along with it. Then there was the surgery the following Monday, followed by a few days of working from my couch while I tried to shake off the after effects of anesthesia and physically recovered. I went back to work last Thursday, but by late Friday afternoon I wasn’t feeling right.
Saturday started off crappy – I felt tired and was starting to feel what I thought were normal side effects from the surgery. I took some Advil and started to get ready for Carrie and John’s son’s baptism party. I was feeling really out of it, though, and didn’t remember that our super huge mirror that usually hung on the wall above my dresser was off the wall and propped up behind the dresser while we painted the bedroom. I moved the dresser to get out a pair of jeans and ended up smashing the huge mirror into a thousand pieces. I called Alex crying – it just seemed like a huge deal to me at the time and all I could think (besides how much cleaning up all of those tiny shards was going to suck) was that we really, really, really didn’t need 7 years of bad luck. Alex told me that I was being rediculous – all a broken mirror meant was you couldn’t use it anymore. I pulled myself together and finished getting ready and headed up to Clifton Park, pausing to layer on some extra strength Tylenol with my Advil.
As the day progressed, the pain I was feeling intensified. I ended up leaving the party early and went to my parents’ house. I spent most of the day on the couch or pacing when my pain got too much to bear laying still. I was getting frustrated that even though I was being diligent about taking my pain meds every four hours, I wasn’t feeling any better. I was feeling progressively worse.
By the time guests started arriving for my dad’s going away party, I was feeling really bad. I tried to not look as miserable ad I felt, but I don’t think I was terribly successful in that endeavor. A couple of hours later, I had to bail out early and Alex and I headed home.
When we got home, I popped a couple of Tylenol with codiene and layed on the sofa with Alex while we watched Netflix movies. I still wasn’t feeling any better. I whined and moaned as we layed there and Alex told me he wa calling my dr in the morning. Finally we decided to just go to bed. Alex gave me an Ambien in the hopes that I’d pass out and not feel any pain.
Unfortunately, that plan didn’t work out too well. I woke up at 3:30 in the morning in pain. I got up to go to the bathroom and ended up in so much pain that I actually screamed. Alex came rushing out to me and I started to pass out. I kept moaning, “we gotta go… we gotta go to the ER…”. Alex got me in the car and took me to Ellis.
The ER was not busy when we got to Ellis and I made it through triage and into a private room very quickly – which meant that I got morphine fairly quickly. I was incredibly thankful for that. I was comfortable there in my hospital gown on my bed, hooked up to an IV and getting good pain meds. I was sent for a CT scan which showed that I fortunately had no injury from my surgery, but that I was inflamed, which was evidence of an infection. They gave me antibiotics by IV and then sent me home with prescriptions for 2 different antibiotics and for Percocet for my pain.
I was so out of it from the infection and Percocet that I don’t remember much of Sunday or Monday. I followed up with my dr on Monday, who seemed pissy at the ER for some reason. I was still in a lot of pain then, but she wouldn’t give me anything else for pain because I was taking a lot already (2 Percocet every 4 hrs) and she felt that after the antibiotics started to kick in that I’d be in less pain. She was right. By Tuesday I was feeling better, but still pretty sick. I went back to work Wednesday, which was really too soon. At my follow up appointment with my doctor on Thursday afternoon, I was chastised for returning to work so soon and “ordered” to take the next day off of work and rest.
I’ve spent a lot of time on the couch the last couple of days, but I think I have this irrational expectation that I should instantly feel better after this investment of couch time. Unfortunately, that’s not the case. At this point, I really am (really!) “over” the whole miscarriage part of it. Because I’ve been so open with everyone about what’s been going on, I’ve been able to hear about other people’s experiences and been able to see how common it is, even among my friends, to go through this. What’s been really great to hear is how many of them have gone on very quickly to have successful pregnancies. So yeah, I’m over that part. What I’m really having a problem with now, is that I’m still feeling so incredibly crappy. I’m just done with this. I want to feel better and just move on at this point.
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