Whose Urine Is That In There?

My medical adventures continue on this issue of the blog. First of all, I just want to say that when I walked into the medical building not too long ago there was a woman running around squawking like a chicken at the top of her lungs. I made sure to get on a different elevator. So, there’s that for ya.

This is why it took me so long to update this silly little blog. My doctors have decided to use me as not only a patient, but also an experiment in psychology, messing with my mental state every time I go in. Several check-ups ago they saw something in the cord flow on the ultrasound. The doc who was on ultrasound duty at the time basically told me that he felt it was completely insignificant at this gestational age. Phew. He then proceeded to tell me all the disasterous things that it could mean if it continues, of course, ending in certain death for everyone involved (as these doctors always end with). He then assured me I shouldn’t worry about all the things he just discussed because it was probably nothing. Being the cool-head that I am, of course, I immediately started to worry. Panic really. Then he says we will do weekly ultrasounds from now on to watch it. That actually made me happy. In the front office he tells the schedule guy (who we will most certainly get to later…oh will we ever) to schedule me in a week or 10 days. Whoa cowboy, didn’t you say a week? So then he looks at the schedule and puts me in for 13 days later. Seriously? You put me in a state of complete panic, re-assure me by telling me I’m coming back next week and then don’t schedule me for nigh-on 2 weeks? I am pretty sure this whole operation is merely a continuance of the medical “research” started by Nazis all those years ago. I call my doc just to make sure this is fine and apparently it is (yeah, they are ALL in on it). I return to work just in time to dress up like a pig and join in the Halloween party (because clearly this was what I was in the mood to do).

Two weeks later I go back and low and behold, everything is completely fine. The tech is really talkative and funny. This was the first appointment where my cervix was checked. Part of that process involves pushing “like you’re having a bowel movement.” I did that and farted. While the lady has the vaginal ultrasound thing in there I totally farted. Maybe this is why I have a dog instead of friends. Anyway, moving on, I am scheduled to see good old Devine at this appointment, who seems appalled that her partner even brought up the cord flow. She tells me that what they saw is completely normal for such an early gestational age. This is about the time I want to a. sing hallelujah that everything is fine, and at the same time b. scream that Cee-Lo Green song at the top of my lungs.

She did put me on weekly ultrasounds however. I got to spend a significant amount of time watching Lovey (works the front desk, is way funner than Hot Stuff) try to re-arrange schedules with every department in and out of the practice trying to fit me into various appointments for the next several weeks. Finally, she had everything booked for the next month and I went home with a list of appointment times and places (there are several locations and buildings within the hospital grounds that I end up at). Remember that this took a really, really long time and was extremely frustrating for her and everyone on the other end of the phone ‘cause that is going to be funny later.

So, I go in the next week for my appointment and once again everything looks hunky dory (sp?). So good in fact, that the doctor decides to change the appointment schedule to every week and a half! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Remember all those appointments that Lovey set up, and cursed under her breath? Yeah, she now has to cancel all of them and re-set up appointments every week and a half. It was pretty amazing and hilarious. I just watched, listened, laughed and let her know that I would try my hardest to need it changed again next time. While I was sitting there, one of the nurses came out and asked another, “Whose urine is that in there?” Ah, yes, the age old question.

I had a whole glorious week with no appointments. It was great. Then, I went in on Tuesday for an ultrasound. Well, my cervix appeared to have shortened. The doctor came in and, being as she was a part of the psychological experimentation, told me not to worry. She then told me all the wretched and devastating things that could happen if it continues to shorten. Ending in, YOU GUESSED IT, certain death for everyone involved. Great. Lucky for Lovey I already had a fetal echocardiogram scheduled for the following Tuesday and an ultrasound on Thursday of that same week. I set off for a week of worry. On this same day a certain sister-in-law had a ridiculously adorable new baby so I drove out to their house in the ‘burbs of Jersey. It is kindof a long ride. About 15 minutes after I get there, Ultrasound Scheduling Guy (let’s call him Ug) calls.
“Hi this is”
“I know, the ultrasound guy, I recognize your voice. That’s how few friends I have.”
“Uh, yeah, are you still at the hospital?” (He doesn’t get my humor, probably because it's not funny)
“No….” (At this point I am mostly confused.)
“Well, can you come back?”
“Uh…” (Now it’s unadulterated panic.)
“ Nothing is wrong, we”
“Good grief, you really should have led with that”
“Yeah, we just forgot to do the dopplers”
“Oy, well, I am out of town right now. Is Thursday ok?”
“Yeah”
“Great, when do you want me there?”
“How early can you come”
“I can’t work anymore so honestly I am WIDE open”
“Ha Ha, okay well, how about 8:30?”
“Great. See you then.”

So, on that Thursday I go in for a second ultrasound of the week. Of course I am in the waiting room til after 9. I should know by now just to show up half an hour late for every appointment. Of course, everything is fine and dandy. The cervix is longer and baby A is kicking the crap out of it. Thank heaven I can’t feel that yet. So, I get to be relieved for a while. At least until I go in on Tuesday for my fetal echo.