“Recovery”
This follows on from the story of my second loss.
As before, these are extracts from the journal entries I made around that time. It wasn’t just a “simple” case of emotionally recovering from the loss. No, it was a case of anything that could go wrong, did go wrong – physically at least! Read on..
Contains some graphic detail.
29th October 2007
The overdue holiday write-up.
We arrived down in the New Forest on the Friday evening, having scrubbed the wing mirrors with service station vinegar and so on to ensure a safe drive. Locating the cottage was not too difficult, however once we were out of the car and the headlights turned off, it was another matter. Forgot one needed a torch outside of London, whoops.
[snip here some stuff about the nice first few days]
Sunday we decided to go for a walk. This turned into a nice long walk, involving pushchair routes that Steve did not appreciate (it was marked as a road on the map!) and was probably 8 miles in all. I started feeling a bit under the weather towards the end of the walk and really felt quite rough in the evening. We went for a huge nice pub carvery meal and B delighted those around her with her pacing up and down, whilst simultaneously stressing us out. I crashed out early.
Monday we decided to go to Portsmouth so I could reminisce about the good old days or something. I started feeling ill again, and I was experiencing a heck of a lot of pain in my lower left abdomen. B fell face first onto the concrete and it was definitely time to go.
We stopped off at Hedge End to look at the enormous Marks and Spencer, and whilst I was in there I casually looked up my symptoms on my phone just to be sure it wasn’t an infection following the surgery I’d had the previous week. I was alarmed to see that every goddamned symptom matched, along with some others that I’d just put down to other stuff, like mild headaches and so on. We knew what had to be done, and instead of going back to the cottage, we headed to Lymington Minor Injuries Unit.
The Minor Injuries Unit was very nice actually – not even a year old. The staff were friendly, as were the other people there (everyone was far friendlier and child-friendlier than London) and I got seen fairly quickly compared to an A&E. As soon as I said what was wrong, the nurse agreed, then mentioned she’d had exactly the same thing happen to her not that long ago. It was out of their league, so they rang Southampton General, and sure enough, they wanted me in, that night. Bye bye holiday.
My fever was still rising so they made me strip off to a hospital gown, and the doctor stuck a really bad IV in my hand without doing any of the flexing or anything first, or even taking my watch off. He was awful. Then they called an ambulance for me because I had no way of getting to the hospital, and Steve and B got a taxi back to the cottage. I got transported in the ambulance for half an hour or so over to Princess Anne’s, with the blue flashy lights on – I think they were bored. I gave career advice to the paramedic for his daughter en-route – it was clear I wasn’t dying! When I got to hospital they put me in a side room (hurray!) and dragged me out for a few nasty internal examinations. And a new IV, because the old one hadn’t even started to work properly. They were pretty horrified by it.
So I spent that night in hospital, getting IV antibiotics and fluids, and Tuesday morning a team of doctors arrived and said they hoped after a scan I would be able to go home. So I waited for my scan. The time came, I headed down, and spent the most miserable hour of my life in the waiting room with loads of non-in-patient happy people talking excitedly about their scans. I hadn’t felt hugely depressed until that point, but that did it for me. The last place on earth I wanted to be. Anyhow, the scan was pretty inconclusive – there was nothing major left behind but they couldn’t tell if the few bits and bobs were actually infected. And I started another fever again that afternoon.
So, sure enough, I had to spend another night there. Steve took B home (he’d arrived early in the morning so I could feed her) and I spent the night being prodded to check I wasn’t dead every few hours, and chatting to the very lovely nurses.
Wednesday morning dawned, and I hoped I’d be able to escape. Fat chance. The doctors decided that as I’d had a fever the previous day, they wanted to see me go 24 hours without a fever before letting me go. At this point I hadn’t eaten for 48 hours in case I needed another operation. They relented on this at least, and I had some hospital food. Ick. Anyhow, at least it was delivered to my bed unlike at QEH. I was going to self-discharge as I hadn’t had a fever for 20 hours and it was getting late, but the doctors refused to let me go (not telling me in person of course) and said they wouldn’t give me antibiotics if I left against their advice. I’ve since found out they can’t do this, but I didn’t know that at the time.
Steve took B home in a big sulk, and I was pretty pissed off too. He’d already spent the day trapsing around Southampton and he was wondering if he’d have to spend another day trying to keep her quiet in the hospital room. The nurses were very good about it though. So I spent another night being prodded and so on.
Thursday morning and they did let me go. I then got lost on the way to the bus stop and took ages getting back to the cottage. When we did get ourselves together, we headed down to Bournemouth to look at the shops (why did we bother?) and the beach. B enjoyed getting her feet wet on the beach, and we had a bit of a wander around. We caught the train back to the cottage, and went out to the pub for another meal whereupon I discovered just how much my stomach had shrunk. In fact I have lost half a stone since the holiday began. B fell over on the pub steps and gave herself a big bruise on her forehead.
The following week – Well, not much to say about it really. I got a stupid bloody bug on Monday which made me feel really quite rough. Still, Steve and I left B at nursery and went into Central London together as Steve had Monday and Tuesday off on holiday too. We went to Harrods and I had a lemon meringue crepe, and we wandered along Oxford Street. I got home and nearly collapsed, I felt so ill. Friday I had to see my consultant first thing to get the results of the tests that were done after my operation. They came back clear, as I knew they would. He wants to see me to do lots of other tests and stuff which my private health insurance will cover, hurray!
I am knackered.
1st November 2007
I spoke too soon. Just when things were starting to look like they were getting better, I’ve fallen ill again. “Only” a fever (1 or 2 degrees above normal) but I feel like crap. And I’ve no idea if it’s related to the problems or not or if I’ve just got yet another stupid bug. I have back ache but it’s at the back, no idea if that counts or if I just pulled a muscle.
I’m currently at work because I’ve taken so many days off sick I’d feel awful about taking yet another one. I don’t know if I should see the doctor, I guess I should at least ring my consultant.
I have so, so, so had enough of this. I don’t want to go back to hospital yet again 
3rd November 2007
Well, it seems I am not dead, or even as ill as I was. I haven’t had a fever since last night, although it has to be said that the fevers I had were pretty grim and lasted for ages. No abdominal pain though, so I’m reasonably sure it’s not related to the previous. I think I just picked up crap because I have zero immunities right now. On the plus side, I have genuinely lost 10lbs in the last fortnight or so. From past experience when losing weight in this way, I’m unlikely to put it back on again except through the usual means. I am almost at the weight I was before I lost some weight (through cycling lots) before getting pregnant, or something like that.
8th November 2007
My endless health-related battle continues, as I fall victim to another passing fever. This is getting silly now, as it’s my third fever bout since leaving hospital, and my fourth since the operation. Something Is Wrong with me.
So, with this in mind, I have been enormously practical and dragged my sorry arse into work (this required a lot of effort with a temperature and exhaustion) to attend “cannot miss” meetings. And so I can ring doctors. Thus, I have another scan tomorrow morning at 9am, and seeing the consultant at 11am.
But you know what? I don’t think they’re going to find anything. There wasn’t much on the last scan after all. I am beginning to wonder if I in fact have a common or garden chest infection. I feel like my chest is squashed, I cough occasionally and have had a cough for the last 5 weeks, I feel dizzy and I have these stupid fevers. Fits chest infection, right? So why didn’t those antibiotics get rid of it? I have no idea.
I just want to be well again. I am utterly exhausted. It is tempting to nick B’s inhaler, which seems to be helping her. And her antibiotics. Bad mummy.
Whatever is wrong with me is sabotaging my career as I am frankly a chocolate teapot here at work at the moment and have been for some time. So much for promotion in the new year.
9th November 2007
I didn’t think things could get any worse really. I went for my scan this morning. Bingo – a nice set of polycystic ovaries. That was nasty news number one, although it’s something I’ve suspected for a while and it explains a lot of things, especially why I am more prone to miscarriage and stupid blood sugar levels. Then they found a mass 5.5×3.6cm in the pouch of douglas (some area or other that hangs around down there) Yes, it’s huge. My consultant raised his eyebrows which for him is rare, and he’s booked me in for a laparascopy and HSG next month. I asked him what it was and he said there was no way of knowing until he’s looked. I’ve looked it up and every single thing it might be ranges from awful to fatal [the symptoms matched ovarian cancer] so I’m not looking any more. I am thinking B may be an only child at this rate. I give up. And none of this has anything to do with my fever either, unless I have the worst bad luck ever and it is the worst case scenario. I hate 2007.
13th November 2007
My blood test results (taken by my GP) have all come back normal. Even the white blood cell count. The blood was taken right on the very tail end of a fever.
I have no idea if this is a good or a bad thing that my body does not appear to be fighting anything despite a fever, but I really hoped for an answer there! I am seeing the GP on Friday.
Another blood test tomorrow – just a full blood count (one of the tests I had on Friday) which I doubt will show anything, but it’s for the gynaecologist. Interestingly I am not as aware of the mass as I used to be lately. Maybe it’s a harmless XYZ and it’s just shrinking and will disappear taking my fevers with it!!
19th November 2007
Any fever that might have appeared is now four days late. I’m not out the woods, but this is looking promising. My blood tests all came back totally clear on Friday as well; my liver, kidneys and thyroid and so on are all top notch. Hurray!
21st November 2007
So I went to see the consultant today, after walking B around Blackheath for half an hour to get her to sleep before the appointment! He gave me a blood test for PCOS – my first real fertility-related blood test (the HCG for the twins aside) – hurray! I feel like a proper member of the various fertility forums I hang out on now. Especially as he has threatened to drill holes in my ovaries if he finds any further cysts whilst doing the laparoscopy, which might help fix my hormones a bit (I have never had what you’d call a conventional cycle) which decreases the chance of miscarriage.
I had a trainee nurse take blood today – she missed the vein entirely and the senior nurse had to take it from the other side. Good job I am used to being stabbed!
[During this time, B kept getting sick with the flu and bad coughs and had soaring temperatures. There was also work drama, and a big friendship drama to deal with.]
14th December 2007
Tomorrow I have my operation to see what this unexplained mass is hiding in my body, where they stick cameras where the sun don’t shine and lots more besides. I have to be at the hospital for 7am.
Anyway, upon leaving the consultant’s office and on my way into work this morning, I forgot my season ticket as it was in my other coat pocket from when I went to Steve’s work do last night. I explained this to the revenue inspector as I left the station at Waterloo East (I only remembered at this point!) and he said “Like that, was it?” and winked. I said, “uh, yeah” and walked off, and it was only shortly afterwards that I realised he’d interpreted my explanation as me sleeping over at some random bloke’s house and not having my ticket for that reason! Oh well – whatever reduces the hassle..
December 15th 2007 [ironically, what was later to be baby C's due date in 2008, and the due date of one of my best friend's babies in 2007!]
Well, that involved stuff. The train I was planning to catch didn’t exist, so I ended up walking miles for nothing and getting a hurried bus after all. As I’d been in another hospital in the last 6 months they said I’d have to go in late as they had to pretend I had MRSA, but as it turned out I went in before their tea break so they could clean everything then. It was no problem anyway as I had a good stack of trashy magazines to read.
I was under for 30 minutes and during that time I am not entirely sure what happened because the dude was really rushed when he told me in about twenty seconds flat, but I will see him next Friday when I pay him a GDP of a small Russian country for him to rush through it all again in two minutes this time, but at least I’ll see photos. My understanding is that he removed a small cyst (maybe it was the mass – I dunno, but he said there was nothing bad in there) and cauterised some mild endometriosis he found on the back left of my uterus. Maybe this means I will have less painful time of the month now or something. Everything else checks out clear, so I guess that means no fibroids, no unexplained masses and no other things that aren’t supposed to be there. Something has been sent off to pathology, goodness only knows what; I presume that cyst.
I now have a bleeding belly button which feels like the worst paper cut ever, seriously aching shoulders from the gas and look about 15 weeks pregnant after a big meal. Kind of how I looked when I *was* 15 weeks pregnant after a big meal. Okay, maybe not quite as bad as that unless I stick my tummy out but then I did that for that photo anyway. The last two anaesthetics I had, my throat was fine but boy it is killing me now. My mouth feels so dry no matter how much water I drink. Ugh.
I have been ordered to rest all day, so rest I will. The hospital people asked me if I enjoyed my stay and I said “No, I bloody well did not. I walked in there feeling fine and now I feel like crap. Call yourself a place for making people well?” although not quite as aggressively as it sounds here! I suspect they’ve heard it all fifty times a week anyway.
18th December 2007
War wounds remain sore, including my throat, although there is no pain from the gas now. Steve is ill, and spent yesterday at home being ill, which was supposed to be my sick day off. Instead I went into Woolwich and I shouldn’t have as I nearly passed out a few times, then picked B up from nursery and then couldn’t get on any buses back as I couldn’t fold the pushchair in my current state and there was no room. B is sick too – she spent Saturday night throwing up, and has a fever yesterday and today and was up all night with me. I am actually the wellest person in the household and that is saying something.
21st December 2007
Amongst other things:
29th January 2008
Currently in medical bills hell as I discover that it’s going to cost close to a four figure sum to cover the amount I totally unintentionally went over my BUPA Outpatients limit. When I realised this was happening I was locked into seeing the consultant for vital pre-op and follow-up appointments and couldn’t get out of it, short of cancelling the vital operation I desperately needed. I am therefore selling 5 days of work holiday to cover a small part of it, and spending my bonus and my Christmas money on it too. Even that won’t cover everything. So upset as I’d just about sorted out my finances before Christmas and now this. Currently ringing around cancelling as many non-essential direct debits as I can to try and help things a little.
7th February 2008
Extract from an entry:
Next Baby: Ironically, not coming any time soon. My body is screwed up; it’s increasingly clear B was a miracle, probably only succeeding because my hormones were messed up in a useful way following a miscarriage. I am seeing my GP next Thursday to get a referral to my private consultant who I can no longer afford to see privately (I owe him over £800 and rising as more unexpected bills arrive) but he is also an NHS doctor. He is happy to see me and agrees there is a problem. However, I suspect the waiting list will be huge. Feeling pretty gutted, to put it mildly.
14th February 2008
I went to see the doctor today to get a referral to my private consultant in his NHS guise. He told me I read too much stuff on the Internet *sigh* and came out with the usual factually incorrect statistics regarding a subject I’ve been studying informally for nearly 3 years now. I didn’t bother arguing though; too much effort and he’d already agreed to refer me. I then spotted that I apparently have Crohn’s Disease on my medical records and had treatment and investigative work done for it in 2003. As my doctor put it, I’d have noticed if someone had been fiddling with my bowels. He’s going to get it removed – the record, not the Crohn’s, which would be pretty awkward to remove given it doesn’t exist on me (well, as far as I know!). There’s no mention of any of my whiplash problems, nor any records of anything else I’ve done ever with a doctor except at that surgery. Fab. Imagine how much more screwed up my records would be if I changed my surname to my married name.. and people wonder why I don’t!
The next cycle I had a chemical (early) loss.
March 17th 2008 – on a separate TTC (trying to conceive) journal I started.
Current results:
Babies: 1, Faulty babies: 4
Cycles trying with positive tests (of which only 1 produced a live baby): 4, Cycles trying with negative tests: 4
Current issues:
* Short luteal phase (second half of the cycle) of 9 or 10. 14 is the average and anything under 12 is a cause for concern as there is not enough time for the baby to implant. Could be a progesterone issue.
* Late ovulation (average of CD14, whereas I am usually CD19 at the earliest, and often CD21-24)
* Weak ovulation – recently there has not been a clear or quick temperature surge post ovulation which can indicate a progesterone problem
* Spotting in luteal phase – again, indicates a progesterone problem.
* Multiple cysts seen on ovaries following ultrasound last year
* Mild endometriosis that might return
* Still breastfeeding, although I had most of these problems before, just not as bad.
Current supplements: Vitamin B complex (100mg), Agnus Castus (3rd cycle so far), Magnesium/Calcium, Raspberry Leaf Tea, Evening Primrose Oil, prebiotics, Folic acid (of course), Pregnacare vitamin capsule, Vitamin C, Fish oils. Steve is on the zinc.
Other supplements I’ve tried: Natural progesterone cream, Omega 3-6-9s, green tea capsules, Selenium, cough medicine.
Other stuff: [snip some information of an intimate nature!]
Things left to try: Soy (a natural Clomid – which encourages better ovulation), acupuncture, whatever the doctor prescribes.
And did I mention that: I chart. Which means I take my temperature every morning just after I’ve woken up, and preferably having had at least 3-4 hours of uninterrupted sleep if B allows. To cut a long story short, a temperature rise of around 0.3-0.5C indicates that a woman has ovulated. It drops again around the day a period starts if a woman is not pregnant, otherwise it stays high. I also wee on sticks, and check my cervix position and mucus to help detect ovulation. I won’t go into the latter two very much to protect the squeamish.
And if anyone tells me to “Just relax, it will happen” I will clobber them over the head with a textbook that proves what bollocks that statement actually is.
Finally the referral for the doctor at my local hospital came through. Thankfully, I did not need it, because on Easter Sunday that year, I finally got a proper positive, and it was time for the real adventure to begin..
