I’m still here, and I’m still alive!
I haven’t posted anything since New Years?! Don’t look at me, I’m so ashamed.
I’ll be posting a password protected post (a first for me!) today with some updates, if anyone is interested. You can leave a comment below with your email address, or email me at email@example.com if you’d like the password.
A week ago I was just getting out of the hospital, terrified of eating, and still a little sore.
I was also pretty confident we’d be celebrating our first female president on Wednesday.
Shit happens – usually when you least expect it.
While I’m not at all excited about the outcome of the election (I’m sad, and scared for families that don’t look like mine) I am taking comfort in every spiteful Joe Biden meme I see, and proudly wearing my safety pin.
One little bright spot, at least for me, was the news that my sudden bout of pancreatitis did NOT mean that my frozen cycle needed to be cancelled. My RE suggested pushing everything back five days to give me time to recover.
A week later, transfer day is fast approaching, and I finally feel like my old self again.
Greetings friends, from the hospital. I think I get to go home today, but it’s still early and it’s the weekend, and I have yet to see a doctor and they’re still just bringing me broth to eat (NO MORE BROTH) but that’s not what I feel like writing about.
Here’s a fun side effect of being overweight and in the hospital: everyone keeps assuming I’m diabetic.
Like, they went ahead and added insulin to my list of medications without ever asking me if I took insulin.
But perhaps I should back up.
Maybe it’s my own fault. They asked me if I had any medical history of diabetes when I got here and I told them I had Gestational Diabetes in 2013. I guess somewhere along the way they lost sight of the gestational component, my chart indicated regular ol’ diabetes, and every time I got a new doctor or a new nurse I got to explain alllll over again that, nope: Just fat! Not diabetic!
I thought it was weird that they kept checking my blood sugars, and then everyone seemed surprised when my results were normal (because I’m not diabetic).
“Well, your first test was a little high,” they told me.
Oh, you mean after those two bottles of Gatorade on an empty stomach?
Since then? Totally normal blood sugars.
BECAUSE I’M NOT DIABETIC.
So color me surprised after I’m admitted and my new nurse is going over my list of medications and she says, “And you get insulin three times a day.”
Not a question, mind you.
So we start again.
Two days and two nights later I guess I finally have enough documented normal blood sugars that the order has been updated and I don’t have to keep defending my already wounded pancreas’ ability to make insulin.
Now if we can just get someone to sign off on me eating some actual goddamn food, we’ll really be on a roll.
We started our FET protocol a few weeks ago and we’re getting ready for an embryo transfer later next week.
And now I find myself unexpectedly admitted to the hospital — after days of debilitating stomach pains and multiple doctor visits — with a diagnosis of pancreatitis.
Monday I got my flu shot, and we spent the night trick-or-treating with friends.
Tuesday morning I felt a little off, but figured it was from the flu shot.
By Tuesday night I had terrible stomach pains, and extreme bloating. I was convinced there was some sort of IVF-related complication.
Sleep was impossible. On more than one occasion I almost got up, got dressed and took myself to the ER but then got lazy or repositioned, etc.
I called my RE first thing Wednesday morning and walked them through all my symptoms. They felt like it was probably a GI issue and asked me to call my GP.
Went to see her in the afternoon and her exam indicated it was a uterine or ovarian issue, and to call my RE back and ask for an ultrasound.
Sleep Wednesday night was even worse than Tuesday, but my doctor assured me it wasn’t appendicitis or anything and I figured I should just wait it out until I could get to the RE.
My RE saw us early this morning and confirmed that my uterus was perfect, and my ovaries looked just fine. But they felt pretty strongly that it was my appendix, so we headed to the hospital.
Abdominal exams, CT scans, and sonograms later, I have pancreatitis. The usual causes? Are gall stones (I have none) or alcoholism (not me) so they’re a little stumped as to why, but we can worry about that some other time I guess.
Twelve hours later, I’m still here, admitted to my own room, hooked up to IV fluids and getting pain meds every few hours.
Nothing to eat or drink until tomorrow, since anything in your stomach basically lights your pancreas on fire.
I’m feeling better, and glad to finally have a diagnosis. They tell me I should be able to proceed with my FET if I feel up to it, which is still to be determined.
The last time I was in this hospital though, I was also in the ER following a terrible car accident — a mere three days into my FET cycle that brought us Gus.
So I can’t help but look at a trip to the same hospital, the same ER, a few days before another transfer as a good omen, regardless of the circumstances.
These people just made my day.
I’m having a hard time picking my favorite — it’s a toss-up between the pizza box or the scrabble tiles.
If we’re not already Facebook friends (Why aren’t we? We should be, come find me!) then maybe you haven’t seen what I’m about to show you.
Or, maybe you have, since it’s gone viral.
My friend Priscilla’s husband Eric has been sending her Dubsmash videos for the last year, featuring their one-year-old son, Jack – and the compilation video they posted for friends and family was just picked up by Scary Mommy and The Today Show.
I’ll spare you the back-story (read the articles!) but if you do nothing else, watch the video. It’s so, so, hilarious.