Saturday a week ago I woke up feeling like I still had a little bit of the indigestion I'd suffered on Friday afternoon. It was much lower, though, and sharper, so I thought maybe I had really, Really bad gas. Within an hour, though, it was clear that something much worse was happening inside of me. I started to lose color, my lips were ashen, I was becoming listless and I was doubled over in gut-wrenching, stabbing pain.
Rob rushed me to the emergency room.
I was seen quickly, whether that was because I was showing obvious signs of shock or because I vomited gloriously while Rob filled out paperwork, we'll never know, but we were both thankful when I was called to triage right away. My blood pressure was very low, and my pain so great, that I was put on an IV with anti-nausea and painkiller meds before any further tests were run. It was around 9:30am, and after that things are very foggy.
I remember looking to Rob with tear-filled, knowing eyes when the doc came back with the first of my many blood tests: blood serum pregnancy test was positive. We were dumbfounded. I'd had what I thought was a normal period just two and a half weeks earlier. We weren't even "trying" anymore, not really. I mean, we aren't trying to prevent pregnancy, but I'd given up on temping and charting and ovulation testing years ago. We'd finally reached a feeling of reconciliation with the likelihood that we would never have children. A positive pregnancy test, combined with this now-familiar pelvic pain could only mean one thing: another ectopic pregnancy.
I was rolled off for an ultrasound. The tech was wonderful - kind, careful, very gentle, but my situation was so severe that the slightest pressure was excruciating and I remember trying to hold myself together as I gripped Rob's hand and cried out in pain. It must have been horrible for him, and for the tech. I knew that it couldn't be helped, I just had to endure. I was so relieved when she said "Okay, I've got everything we need, I'm not going to put her through anymore of this."
We found out when the consulting OB came in to introduce herself and tell me that I was being prepped for surgery (nice to meet you, too, doc!) that there was a good deal of fluid in my upper abdominal cavity and what looked like an 8cm mass on my right ovary. We'd treated my first ectopic pregnancy (same side) with a drug called methotrexate because I wanted to keep my fallopian tube and avoid abdominal surgery if at all possible. Not only was that not an option this time - the mass was too big ("mass" apparently is easier for people to say than baby & placenta) and the tube had ruptured. Even if that hadn't been the case, I would have chosen surgery this time because it was the second ectopic in that tube, and I just couldn't see going through the 6+ weeks of recovery that methotrexate treatment demanded of me last time. I wanted the tube out.
So I was wheeled to the surgery floor with Rob at my side. We were given horrible worst-case scenarios, asked to sign lots of papers, and ensured that they would do their best to leave as much of me intact as possible. They just weren't sure what they would find when they got in there, or how much blood I'd already lost. What was planned as a laparoscopic surgery to remove just the right fallopian tube might have to become a full abdominal incision to also remove scar tissue and/or a damaged ovary. I might need a blood transfusion. We didn't have many options, though, but to trust that the staff would continue to do their best, that God was watching out for us as always, that all would be made right and we would find a new normal.
Rob and I kissed, and tried to give each other reassuring smiles as I was moved into the OR. They weren't messing around; things moved pretty quickly. Once I was transferred to the operating table the nurse smiled kindly at me as she put the oxygen mask on my face, telling me to take deep breaths while the anesthesiologist put the "sleeping med" into my IV line. That stuff works fast.
I woke up in recovery, with nobody there but two nurses. The surgeon came and assured me that things had gone well. She showed me some pictures of my insides, but I was really out of it and wasn't wearing my glasses, so I mostly just wondered why she was waving some fuzzy pictures of white blobs in front of me. At some point I came to understand that the laparoscopy had been enough, I had three small incisions and one less fallopian tube, but my ovaries were both intact.
Rob was fetched at some point, either while I was transferred to my room or once I got there, I don't really know. We were so happy to see each other. The surgeon had already spoken with him, so he had the good news. Now the nurses went to work getting me settled, assessing my condition, and managing my pain. They were wonderful, and we felt so grateful that, as much as we try to avoid medical care, we have access to some really amazing technology, medical staff & facilities just a 5 minute drive from our home.
I stayed overnight, getting regular checks from the nurses & aids. I'd been pumped with so much IV fluid that it had seeped into my lungs. So I was given a drug that gets it out of the lungs so that it can be peed out. My lungs cleared up pretty quickly, but as promised I had to call for the bedpan every half hour through most of the night. Still, I preferred that to coughing, which was difficult and painful, to say the least.
This past week has seen a steady improvement with plateaus. I came home on Sunday afternoon and we managed my pain with Percocet, which worked a lot better for me than the Vicodin I was given with the first ectopic. The sofa was my daytime bed, so that Rob could easily keep an eye on me, help me to the loo, etc. Also, I knew I'd get lonely lying upstairs in our room. I was fairly out of it until Wednesday or so, but by Thursday afternoon I felt well enough to cut my dose of painkillers to just one (rather than two) every 4 - 6 hours.
It was around Wednesday that I started going for little walks outside. I held Rob's arm and shuffled down the street, happy to feel the warm air and sun, the refreshing breeze. Exhausted after one block, Rob steered me back home to my sofa station. By Thursday I could stand a little more upright. By Friday I didn't feel the need to hold one arm across my belly, as if holding my innards in. By Saturday it was no longer a shuffle, but a slow, steady (albeit ginger) walk. Today I got to go out for lunch.
I get to see the surgeon for a follow up next week. I'm making a list of questions, which - thanks to my area of study - is extensive.
As with so many of life's events, this experience is full of contradictions. We suffered some obvious losses: the loss of an unexpected pregnancy, and the loss of a fallopian tube. What has surprised us, however, is what we have gained. I have an enormous sense of gratitude, not only for things like excellent emergency medical care, but for life itself, for MY life. I also feel relief, that I never have to go through an ectopic pregnancy on my right side again, that we now know the cause of the ectopic pregnancies (it appears that the tube developed improperly), that my left tube looks healthy and good. I feel sad that another baby was lost, but very grateful that this time we were blessed with ignorance, which didn't offer us any time to get attached. For the first time in years, I feel hopeful with regards to pregnancy possibilities. The whole experience was shocking and violent but we received tender, compassionate care. We feel utterly alone in our grief and yet our loved ones are showering us with so much support and love.
We're doing our best to focus on what we have found through this experience. What we have found within ourselves and what we have found in other people - strangers and loved ones. After all, we all must choose where to focus our attention, and I believe in focusing on the positives.
