Last year on December 21 I had my first scheduled appointment with my OB. It was supposed to be a happy time, but instead I got to see my doctor's newest most wonderful ultrasound machine giving me a clear image of the bean floating to the bottom of my uterus, it's sack collapsing upon it like a deflated balloon, no heartbeat in sight. It wasn't like it was a surprise or anything. I had started bleeding on the 19th and they showed me the fact that it had no heartbeat then. But I had been hoping, not for a miracle, but that there would be nothing there, so I wouldn't have to schedule a D&C. No such luck.
December 19th started my week at the end of the World. I am no longer the same person. I no longer have the same life. The bean died and it took a part of me with it. All year I have been dreading this time, it's like a twisted alternate Universe Advent, with little chocolates of pain behind doors of razor wire and glass. On the 19th I just broke down and cried, right there at the kitchen table. I didn't even have the decency to go into the bathroom and hide my tears. I sat there and dared my daughter to come in and ask me why I was crying, but she didn't, and I got up and washed my face and carried on. I don't want to carry on. I want to curl up in bed and wake up on Christmas morning and wallow in my children's happiness and love. I don't want to be here for one minute of December 23rd. I don't want to remember, not for one moment, the hard looks on the nurses faces...as if I was having an abortion by choice two days before Christmas. I don't want to think about the elderly nurse asking me if I was still bleeding in her heavy accent, and her telling me that it meant that it was not too late for me to have more children if I was. I don't want to hear them telling me it was not too late to change my mind. Then the icing on the cake, the anesthesiologist asking me the date of my last period, and then inquiring if I could possibly be pregnant? Begging the question, does anyone in a hospital read a fucking chart anymore? Why didn't it say anywhere, this is a miscarriage, handle with care, be kind? Because I need some kindness, here, at the End of the World.
Sending love, kindness, and a hug on this difficult, difficult week. I'll be holding you in my heart on the 23rd.
ReplyDeleteI keep you in my pocket, every day :)
DeleteI am so sorry. Sorry that you weren't treated with more compassion, and sorry that you had to go through the loss at all. It just sucks and is so unfair.
ReplyDeleteI hope that, in the midst of your grief, you are able to find joy in your holiday.
I will. I just want to fast forward to Christmas day.
DeleteI am so so sorry. Please know that I have, am and will be thinking of you! Sending lots of love your way ((HUGS))
ReplyDeleteThank you. I'm thinking of you, too.
DeleteWhat a horrific experience, made even worse by people who are supposed to help the healing... I am so very sorry you had to go through that. Be kind to yourself.
ReplyDeleteIt was a horrible experience, but better I'm sure than my body doing it itself on Christmas day and experiencing medical complications. At least my doctor and the nurse from the practice that were there were incredibly kind and supportive.
Delete*big hugs chickenpig*
ReplyDeleteI'm so sorry for your loss and I'm thinking of you.
Thank you. I keep hoping that another day, another month, another year and everything will be better. Maybe tomorrow?
DeleteThinking of you and hoping that you'll get the healing thoughts I'm sending your way. And no I don't think the medical staff ever reads the charts.
ReplyDeleteThank you, I can feel your positive thoughts from here.
DeleteI could have punched the anesthesiologist if I didn't have IV's in my arms, I really could have.
Abiding with you. I hate the weeks that are full of land mines. Sending you love and light, as you make your way through this one, one step, one breath at a time.
ReplyDeleteBreathe in...breathe out.
DeleteThank You.
ReplyDeleteI am still so sorry you had to go through this. Thinking of you.
ReplyDeleteThank You for your thoughts.
DeleteI worked in a hospital in England - not as a nurse, but as a nurse's helper, a general lackey. Every morning, we would meet away from the patients and have a private 'hand over'. The night sisters would tell us how our patients were feeling, if any of them might need a friendly ear. Sometimes, if the ward was quiet, we'd take some patients downstairs for coffee and walk around the grounds. They would assign me to any area of the ward where there were fellow Scots, for example, so that we'd have things to say. Even as the girl who changed the bed clothes, I had to read the most recent page of the medical notes so as not to say something to cause upset.
ReplyDeleteIt absolutely breaks my heart that such a simple thing - which took only five minutes out of our day - can be neglected. I've put the date in my calender - you'll have a candle over here on the 21st. You're in my thoughts.
That is incredibly kind of you. Thank you.
DeleteI don't know why my doctor's couldn't have written something to the effect of "having a D&C due to miscarriage" somewhere on my chart. But even if I had been terminating a pregnancy, it was still no reason for the treatment of the nurses.
That is absolutely horrific, jaw-dropping stuff. I would honestly write a letter to the hospital about the way you were treated... even if it happened a full year ago. There may not be anything they can do to make it up to you now, but perhaps they'll learn something and other women won't have to endure similar treatment in the future.
ReplyDelete