Guess what? You can be a little bit pregnant. HCG level that rocketed down from over 6000 to 583 are currently at 34. What's the magic number? -2
Anything over -2 is considered still knocked up - but not really.
So I'm 36 away from being able to drink and have sex. The two things that got me into this mess. (I can't do either because my ovary could still rupture. -2 means all the tissue is gone or at least that is what the doctor I saw today told me.)
I feel better. I'm up and about all day now, no more naps. I have energy to clean and take care of shit that has been piling up around here. So yay!
And we've been handling this with the same good humor we handle everything with... there are lots of jokes and laughs. This has been scary. But I'm getting better slowly but surely.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Monday, June 14, 2010
So it's June - here's your update (it's a doozy)
I have this boyfriend. I like him a whole bunch. He's smart, funny, kind, cute and has this super sperm.
Wait...what?
Yes. My boyfriend has Super Sperm. Trust me. It has to be super because it navigated that overgrown den of death called by lady bits and managed to knock me up.
Of course my lady bits were having none of it so my uterus promptly said "uh no -don't you drag that thing in here" and my tubes, the waste land of scar tissue that they are said "no worries we couldn't if we wanted to". And the rest of me said, "fuck it, she's 36 and smokes like a chimney, is 30 lbs (the rest of me is kind) overweight, this is not going to end well".
So ignoring the pains that I had almost immediately upon the pregnancy test coming back positive and the lacksidaisicle attitude of my OB/GYN "Oh, it's you Ms. Fibriods, Cysts and PCOS? We'll see you in week 9." I ended up in the ER at 6 weeks 4 days with an Ectopic pregnancy.
At first the ER treated me kind of like I was 1950's housewife with a hysterical pregnancy. I had no blood work done prior to coming in - just some pain and a knowledge that something wasn't right. They took my blood and sent me off to Ultra Sound where the tech asked me twice if I was sure I was pregnant. Ummm....yeah 5 tests worth of sure. Several times the attending Doctor in the ER told me it was highly unlikely I would have gotten 5 false positives. I felt kind of like a liar. I was actually starting to question if I really was pregnant. It wasn't until my blood work came back with an HCG level of 3000 that my pregnancy was believed. And once they got the on duty Gynecologist down there, I was in good hands.
She did a D&C on my uterus to see if the tissue in it was pregnancy (it wasn't). The ultrasound was read by the radiologist who found the sac in my ovary. After some discussion it was decided the best way to treat it was with a shot of Methotrexate.
Methotrexate is the devil.
The ER doctor (who seriously was a peach - I wish she practiced here, she would be my doctor) said she would give me this shot and it would stop the cells from growing. That I would probably bleed in a few days. My hormone level with increase by Monday and decrease afterwards. The best instructions she gave me were: No Sex. No Sun. No Vitamins. No Motrin.
So I got the shot. I went home. I was a little sick on Saturday. A little sick on Sunday and then Monday all hell broke loose. I went to get my hormone levels checked on Monday and they were over 6000. I started to cramp and bleed on Monday night. And cramp and bleed. And then on Tuesday and Wednesday I was a sobbing mess in addition to cramping and bleeding. On Thursday I got my blood checked again and my HCG level was 583. So that explained the crying jag I had been on. I continue to cramp and bleed and feel crummy. Methotrexate has managed to completely fuck up my health. I can't drink either (something I figured out when using Dr. Google to diagnose my condition) so I am super grumpy.
The best part about the entire hospital visit was when I got the shot. Methotrexate is a Chemo drug so the Doctor had to put on all this gear to administer the shot. The whole time I was thinking "why does she have to wear all that stuff to get the shot together but it can get jammed in my butt cheek with no precautions?"
As I laid on my side waiting for her to needle me, I faced my boyfriend who said simply "That's a big needle. It looks like a straw". You're not helping, honey.
I'm better than I was. I'm lucky. Nothing ruptured. I will live to fight another day. I can not imagine the torture and horror this would be if I had been trying to get pregnant. My heart goes out to all the women on the fertility message boards I have been perusing. Their information has provided me with a whole lot of knowledge my doctor didn't give me.
I'm also lucky because my boyfriend has been amazing through this. He didn't freak out when I found out I was knocked up. He was supportive and caring. He asked all the right questions at the hospital. He held my hand and found me socks. He listened. He has put up with the amazing mood swings I have been going through. He has listened to me describe the blood flow and cramping well past the point that he should have to. He watched me feel my boobs several times a day trying to decide if things were different. He has sat on the couch and cuddled me. He has been the best.
And the way I'm going to show him how much I appreciate him? Find a doctor to do a vasectomy.
Wait...what?
Yes. My boyfriend has Super Sperm. Trust me. It has to be super because it navigated that overgrown den of death called by lady bits and managed to knock me up.
Of course my lady bits were having none of it so my uterus promptly said "uh no -don't you drag that thing in here" and my tubes, the waste land of scar tissue that they are said "no worries we couldn't if we wanted to". And the rest of me said, "fuck it, she's 36 and smokes like a chimney, is 30 lbs (the rest of me is kind) overweight, this is not going to end well".
So ignoring the pains that I had almost immediately upon the pregnancy test coming back positive and the lacksidaisicle attitude of my OB/GYN "Oh, it's you Ms. Fibriods, Cysts and PCOS? We'll see you in week 9." I ended up in the ER at 6 weeks 4 days with an Ectopic pregnancy.
At first the ER treated me kind of like I was 1950's housewife with a hysterical pregnancy. I had no blood work done prior to coming in - just some pain and a knowledge that something wasn't right. They took my blood and sent me off to Ultra Sound where the tech asked me twice if I was sure I was pregnant. Ummm....yeah 5 tests worth of sure. Several times the attending Doctor in the ER told me it was highly unlikely I would have gotten 5 false positives. I felt kind of like a liar. I was actually starting to question if I really was pregnant. It wasn't until my blood work came back with an HCG level of 3000 that my pregnancy was believed. And once they got the on duty Gynecologist down there, I was in good hands.
She did a D&C on my uterus to see if the tissue in it was pregnancy (it wasn't). The ultrasound was read by the radiologist who found the sac in my ovary. After some discussion it was decided the best way to treat it was with a shot of Methotrexate.
Methotrexate is the devil.
The ER doctor (who seriously was a peach - I wish she practiced here, she would be my doctor) said she would give me this shot and it would stop the cells from growing. That I would probably bleed in a few days. My hormone level with increase by Monday and decrease afterwards. The best instructions she gave me were: No Sex. No Sun. No Vitamins. No Motrin.
So I got the shot. I went home. I was a little sick on Saturday. A little sick on Sunday and then Monday all hell broke loose. I went to get my hormone levels checked on Monday and they were over 6000. I started to cramp and bleed on Monday night. And cramp and bleed. And then on Tuesday and Wednesday I was a sobbing mess in addition to cramping and bleeding. On Thursday I got my blood checked again and my HCG level was 583. So that explained the crying jag I had been on. I continue to cramp and bleed and feel crummy. Methotrexate has managed to completely fuck up my health. I can't drink either (something I figured out when using Dr. Google to diagnose my condition) so I am super grumpy.
The best part about the entire hospital visit was when I got the shot. Methotrexate is a Chemo drug so the Doctor had to put on all this gear to administer the shot. The whole time I was thinking "why does she have to wear all that stuff to get the shot together but it can get jammed in my butt cheek with no precautions?"
As I laid on my side waiting for her to needle me, I faced my boyfriend who said simply "That's a big needle. It looks like a straw". You're not helping, honey.
I'm better than I was. I'm lucky. Nothing ruptured. I will live to fight another day. I can not imagine the torture and horror this would be if I had been trying to get pregnant. My heart goes out to all the women on the fertility message boards I have been perusing. Their information has provided me with a whole lot of knowledge my doctor didn't give me.
I'm also lucky because my boyfriend has been amazing through this. He didn't freak out when I found out I was knocked up. He was supportive and caring. He asked all the right questions at the hospital. He held my hand and found me socks. He listened. He has put up with the amazing mood swings I have been going through. He has listened to me describe the blood flow and cramping well past the point that he should have to. He watched me feel my boobs several times a day trying to decide if things were different. He has sat on the couch and cuddled me. He has been the best.
And the way I'm going to show him how much I appreciate him? Find a doctor to do a vasectomy.
Tuesday, March 09, 2010
DId I tell you I had a Birthday? In January. Yeah, I never update.
Hi. It's been awhile, huh? Sorry. Not much has happened in the last 2 and a half months (holy fuck, why do I keep this blog?). Christmas came and went. 2010 showed up and brought with it my 36th birthday. 36. Can you believe it? I can't. I'm a grown up age. 36. I should have a kid or something (If I liked them). Or a dog (If Brownie liked them). Definitely a better job. Maybe a husband I live with. A house I not only own but I live in. You know, normal grown up stuff.
So my 35th year was one of transition. The first year I lived on my own, paid my own bills, proved to myself that I could be happy alone. For the most part I have been happier than I was. I made some new friends, and lost some old ones. Met someone special. Broke up with that someone special. 4 or 5 times. Lucky for me, he doesn't listen.
On January 31st, and that boy did the sweetest thing for me anyone has ever done and it resulted in the best birthday I have had since my Roller Skating Birthday or the McDonald's Birthday (10 & 6 respectively).
I awoke on Sunday morning, cozy in my squirrel PJs. We talked and laughed and loved a little bit then I drove home (still in my jammies), I stopped for muffins and lattes on my way. Once home, I read and putzed around until about 3 when I got ready to meet my bf at the movies - we had plans to see Crazy Heart.
We met at the local NP movie theater, and as we got up to purchase our tickets, he pulled out a piece of paper and said "She's a member". I have been talking about being a member at that theater for months and never really got around to it. We love that theater - it's a 3 screen art house type in the suburbs. The town it's in is really cool, a bunch of different amazing restaurants (From Irish to Indian and a whole bunch in between). I was so happy with the membership - now we can go to the Movies for $4.75! It was this amazingly sweet surprise. It would have been more than enough to have the membership.
Total Side Note: Crazy Heart is a great movie but I will agree with a bunch of folks that it The Wrestler with country Music, I thoroughly enjoyed it. Except Maggie Gyllenhaal - her motives were unclear, her characters actions were odd and I just didn't like her in this movie. But you should totally see it because, Bridges is going to win an Oscar tomorrow night. (In the 6 weeks it has taken me to write this entry, the only thing I can say is HA! I was right! Bridges = Oscar).
After the movie I went to pee and when I came back Patrick was acting at best a little squirrely - texting a way and being rather secretive. I couldn't quiet peg what he was up to, but I didn't really push it. We left the theater deep in movie discussion mode which is our way. We wandered across the street to a restaurant Em had recommended. We were talking and laughing and having a great time. The hostess took our name for the reservation and led us upstairs. As we got closer to the table I thought "huh, that looks like Emily. And Aham. Why would they be here together?" Then it dawned on me (I'm a little slow) Em, Noah, Jaime, Brian and his ladyfriend and My Aham were all there for my birthday dinner. I was shocked, surprised and really, really pleased.
No one has ever done something so kind for me. Patrick and I work together. We like each other, but he's not super friendly with anyone else. I am super friendly with everyone. To a fucking fault (see my next entry, why I am failing miserably at my job - coming in June at this rate). That he went out of his way to get everyone together for me was amazing. I spent the entire night with the goofiest smile on my face. For days (weeks, and now months) afterwards I have been raving about how much this meant to me. I like this boy. He's kind. He's sweet. He's my best friend. He's terribly, terribly cute. And so fucking smart. And this amazing dad. I'm a lucky girl to have found a guy like him. He made the start of my 36th year on this planet something I will never forget. I can't thank him enough for this or for all the other things he has done for me over the last year. Fate did a good thing for us.
Of course, knowing me, I'll dump him next week for no real reason. I'm bad at this.
So my 35th year was one of transition. The first year I lived on my own, paid my own bills, proved to myself that I could be happy alone. For the most part I have been happier than I was. I made some new friends, and lost some old ones. Met someone special. Broke up with that someone special. 4 or 5 times. Lucky for me, he doesn't listen.
On January 31st, and that boy did the sweetest thing for me anyone has ever done and it resulted in the best birthday I have had since my Roller Skating Birthday or the McDonald's Birthday (10 & 6 respectively).
I awoke on Sunday morning, cozy in my squirrel PJs. We talked and laughed and loved a little bit then I drove home (still in my jammies), I stopped for muffins and lattes on my way. Once home, I read and putzed around until about 3 when I got ready to meet my bf at the movies - we had plans to see Crazy Heart.
We met at the local NP movie theater, and as we got up to purchase our tickets, he pulled out a piece of paper and said "She's a member". I have been talking about being a member at that theater for months and never really got around to it. We love that theater - it's a 3 screen art house type in the suburbs. The town it's in is really cool, a bunch of different amazing restaurants (From Irish to Indian and a whole bunch in between). I was so happy with the membership - now we can go to the Movies for $4.75! It was this amazingly sweet surprise. It would have been more than enough to have the membership.
Total Side Note: Crazy Heart is a great movie but I will agree with a bunch of folks that it The Wrestler with country Music, I thoroughly enjoyed it. Except Maggie Gyllenhaal - her motives were unclear, her characters actions were odd and I just didn't like her in this movie. But you should totally see it because, Bridges is going to win an Oscar tomorrow night. (In the 6 weeks it has taken me to write this entry, the only thing I can say is HA! I was right! Bridges = Oscar).
After the movie I went to pee and when I came back Patrick was acting at best a little squirrely - texting a way and being rather secretive. I couldn't quiet peg what he was up to, but I didn't really push it. We left the theater deep in movie discussion mode which is our way. We wandered across the street to a restaurant Em had recommended. We were talking and laughing and having a great time. The hostess took our name for the reservation and led us upstairs. As we got closer to the table I thought "huh, that looks like Emily. And Aham. Why would they be here together?" Then it dawned on me (I'm a little slow) Em, Noah, Jaime, Brian and his ladyfriend and My Aham were all there for my birthday dinner. I was shocked, surprised and really, really pleased.
No one has ever done something so kind for me. Patrick and I work together. We like each other, but he's not super friendly with anyone else. I am super friendly with everyone. To a fucking fault (see my next entry, why I am failing miserably at my job - coming in June at this rate). That he went out of his way to get everyone together for me was amazing. I spent the entire night with the goofiest smile on my face. For days (weeks, and now months) afterwards I have been raving about how much this meant to me. I like this boy. He's kind. He's sweet. He's my best friend. He's terribly, terribly cute. And so fucking smart. And this amazing dad. I'm a lucky girl to have found a guy like him. He made the start of my 36th year on this planet something I will never forget. I can't thank him enough for this or for all the other things he has done for me over the last year. Fate did a good thing for us.
Of course, knowing me, I'll dump him next week for no real reason. I'm bad at this.
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