Recovery (Part One)

Before I begin I want to say thank you to everyone for their love and support. It’s wonderful to read all your comforting words and I’m excited to see I even had a few newbies visit and share their stories with me. I hope I can find inspiration and hope from all of you.

I wanted to write down my experience and feelings for the past few days while they are still vividly in my mind. Because the reality is it’s not something I want to often reflect back on so the more I can say now the better it will suit the situation.

Last Thursday night was HELL, but seriously could you fucking sleep if you knew you were about to be sliced open and forced to end the life of your child? EH…..I didn’t think so. I sobbed all night through and woke up with my eyes practically swollen shut. Hubby and I crawled out of bed around 6 am and began to get ready for what was ahead. I decided to not bother with hair or makeup and just brushed my teeth and got dressed. Luckily I planned ahead and reminded myself to wear loose fitting panties and pants so that the inevitable ride home that afternoon would not be so uncomfortable.

We left the house at 7 am and started the 23 mile drive down to the hospital. Everyone was headed to work and we hit a few snags on the freeway but it didn’t affect our arrival time because we somehow managed to pull up to the hospital valet promptly at 7:24. My mouth was parched after a night of crying and the inability to quench my thirst with a sip of water. I thought about how dreadful it was going to be having to wait many more hours unable to have a refreshment.

We walked up to the Women’s Surgery Unit and checked in at the desk. They gave hubby a little pamphlet with information about the hospital. They had a television screen that they kept updated with information about the surgery procedures each patient was undergoing. Each patient was assigned a code that would appear on the lobby screen and it would notify family of the patient’s status. They also gave him a little pager so that they could buzz him whenever they needed to reach him within the hospital. They sent us to the waiting room and we sat there for only a few minutes until they called us back. I remember thinking how horribly quick it all was and my hands were getting clammy and I was feeling an urge to panic.

The nurse showed me to my room and handed me the hospital gown and she left us in the room while I changed. Sweet hubby was trying to keep the mood light and was trying to make me feel somehow beautiful in this silly hospital gown. The nurse came back in the room and she hung my belongings in the closet and then I laid down in the hospital bed.  The room was simple it had a bed, a recliner, a window that looked into downtown, a small TV mounted on the wall, and a cabinet that they stored supplies in.

The two nurses who helped me that morning were wonderful. They clearly understood the emotional situation and I could sense that they genuinely felt sorry that I was going through this procedure. I told them that this was my first time ever being in the hospital and they were very caring and gentle and did their best to keep me comfortable during my stay. I was freaked out by EVERYTHING! I didn’t know what to expect from; getting and IV, anesthesia, and how I would feel when I woke up. They were both very sweet and gently inserted the IV and I was shocked to see that I was so scared of something so painless. I was just hoping my fears for the remainder of the procedures would be just as easy. They kept me snug in bed with piles of nice warm blankets and I was so thankful to have such wonderful people taking care of me.

The anesthesiologist came in to meet me and discuss any concerns. He was so sweet and assured me that I would be in good hands. His words were comforting but they also brought the realization that this was all real and I couldn’t fight off the tears. It’s really hard to look someone in the eye when all I can think about is how badly I want to escape from my body and detach myself from the whole situation.

Next I was told the doctor who would be performing the surgery would be coming in to discuss the procedure and meet me. I was so happily surprised when I found out the doctor would actually be female. I can’t describe the sense of relief and I felt comfort in her presence. She seemed confident and laid back and was ready to answer any of my questions. My main concerns were; the amount of time surgery would take, when I would be able to leave, when could I have something to drink, can they save my tube, and what would recovery be like? She was awesome and went over it all…….she explained that the surgery would only be an hour and the actually operation would only be 20-30 minutes. She explained to hubby that things can always go wrong but that does not mean I won’t be ok, and that he should not worry unless he hears nothing for over 1.5 hours. She asked me tons of questions about our history and I told her of the previous miscarriage. She also asked if the doctor who informed me of the ectopic pregnancy went over the options and if she ever offered me the option to take Methotrexate? I told her that they did not give me the option to take the drug and simply told me that I must have the surgery. I told her that I had read about the drug and would have chosen surgery even if they had offered it to me. She still felt concerned and wanted to understand why they did not give me the choice and she opted to call the doctor to find out. She returned promptly and felt uncomfortable telling me. She simply said, “there is a good reason why they did not offer you the drug………it’s up to you if you’d like me to tell you?” I looked at hubby and quickly looked back and said “YES”. She said, “HEARTBEAT……you can’t take the drug if there’s a heartbeat” It stung because it was the first time someone had said the word….although I clearly saw it on the ultrasound the day before I just hadn’t heard anyone admit to it.

The doctor also said she would have to delay the surgery and that we would not start the operation until around 10:20 rather than the originally scheduled 9:50. I looked at the clock and realized I would have to lay in this bed for another dreadful hour in anticipation. But trust me that hour flew by faster than I could have imagined. The nurses slipped what they called “happy juice” into my IV to help take the edge off, though I swear it did not work.

To be continued………