Famous Last Words

You know how when you feel better, you get all happy, and optimistic, and, well, you more than likely do to much?

Yeah.

I felt really good Monday, and went about, doing the stuff I was "supposed" to be doing. First, to the Chiro, for a follow up. He did a few things, nothing major, mainly to my shoulder, and knees. We discussed my possibility of relapse. He said High.

Next, to the hospital, to drop off some needed paperwork, and ask some important questions. Mission accomplished, I came home. Being a good girl the whole time, and using my trusted Milk crate, Bessie, to climb up carefully into the Jeep.

That afternoon, I had a very short physical therapy appointment, where the kind PT did the massage, and ice. Oh, and he kind of pulled on my legs, a little, until I stopped that because, well, I felt a tugging sensation near my groin area.

I came home. Was doing fine. Did a happy blog post. Made dinner, just BLT's, nothing earth shattering.

Here, is where it gets ugly. I almost didn't even blog this, but, I am, because, this is a record of MY life, including the bad.

Let me just start by reporting that both Mustang Boy and I are fine, now. Remember that important fact as you read on.

I went to bed, as usual Monday night. Sore, but sleepy. About eleven PM, I noticed I was tossing and trying to turn a lot to find a comfortable spot. That pain in my right hip was (ever) present. So I decided to get up and ice it for awhile, and chill in my big chair. Except.

I could not find a way to get comfortable, in my big chair.

The ice, it wasn't helping.

By midnight, I was trying to convince myself I was okay, that it wasn't as bad as it had been. By 2 am I was waking up MM, distraught, because it was WORSE than it had been. By 4 am? I was in the Emergency room. After a very hard climb into the Jeep, and painful but brief Jeep ride.

Once in the ER, they kind of half assed tried to help me. I got a few pain shots that did nothing to help me. I was too far gone. I rolled around, hurting, until about 7 am, when they decided to discharge me, and send me to the OB department, to be evaluated. Basically, they hurredly turfed off a now crying, nearly incoherant pregnant woman to the OB department, in severe pain. Needless to say they were horrified. They quickly determined I was having no contractions (thank God, I thought the pain was going to put me into labor). They checked Mustang Boy's heart rate, it was good, normal, galloping along. But Me?

NOT GOOD

I have never been in a more dark, agonizing place in my life, than my own body at that time. I could hear myself whimpering, crying, and eventually begging. MM was by my side, but unable to really do much beyond comfort me as well as he could. We even tried guided imagery. The OB nurses were beside themselves, getting ahold of my MD, who was in surgery. He did make it in to see me, and I could hear the horror and anger in his voice, as he looked at me and asked "how long has THIS been going on?"

All I could do was cry. MM answered him, and then I heard him announce.

"We are going to admit you, and put you on a dilaudid drip".

Then?

I really lost it. Because what my tortured, pained incoherant brain heard was

"you suck as a mother, and we are going to sedate the shit out of you and your baby".

Of course, that isn't what was said or meant, but I felt like super failure of a lifetime. Why was this happening to me?

So I lose my shit. Big time. I roll over, and just sob and cry like someone who just lost their birthday. And their mind. People were talking quietly around me, but I was beyond hearing what they were saying.

Eventually, I pulled the edges together the best I could. I told this poor nurse what shitty veins I had, and where she could put my IV. She was so freaking nice. She gave me a pain shot, put numbing cream on my arm, then proceeded to start my IV right where I told her to. It sucks when you have a nurse as a patient. She bore it well.

Then, she started giving me the dripped in pain medication. Part of me wanted to sigh in sweet relief, the other part of me wanted to be better, to say NO! and suck up what I OBVIOUSLY could not suck up.

The part of me that needed relief won.

I started to feel better. The pain decreased. I started to make sense of things. To rationalize. Yes. Mustang Boy was going to have to deal with some sedation. We would monitor him. Its better for him to deal with sedation, than early labor and birth, which is where I firmly believe I was headed, without getting any pain medicine. My body was in extreme rebellion.

So I stayed, in the hospital. For two days. I got home a few hours ago. I was on the pain medication drip for about 24 hours. It was the kind where I pushed the button when I had the pain. I did use it. I was careful. We monitored the boy, he had a great heart rate the entire time. He moved, but not as vigorously as he usually does. The paperwork to take me completely off work was started. I won't go back until after he is born, for sure, now. Eventually, I was changed to oral pain medications.

Am I still in pain?

Yes, I have some. Finding a comfortable spot to lay in or even sit in can be tough. But it isn't severe, mind numbing, body stealing pain. It's pain I can deal with.

Are the oral pain medications great for my boy?

Not especially, but they aren't horrible, either, and they are a mild dose. He is moving like crazy, just as strong as he was before the dilaudid drip. I heard his heart beat before I was discharged. It was beautiful and strong. Despite my falling apart, he is maintained. And he will be.

And I?

Will be severely limiting any activities over the next months. Doing even a HINT of too much will inflame my sacro-iliac ligament and joint beyond recognition. I know my limits. I've learned a lot about proper body mechanics, and what I need to do to maintain them.

MM, and MG have been troopers. I couldn't ask for better. Middle sister showed up and sat with me as well that first day, as I made myself stay awake, so that I'd sleep all night, despite the pain drip. She thought I looked like a stroke victim. She was right.

And so I limp gratefully around my home, glad to be here. Showered so I didn't smell like a hospital anymore, and am doing my best to relax in my chair. Mustang boy is poking at me, for having a computer in my lap. Mustang Girl is in her usual pose, parked in front of her computer and phone. Mustang Man will be home from work as soon as he can.

All is good (ish).