March 27, 2012 – The Procedure

I am sorry for the delay in updating everyone on how everything is going, but it has been a rough couple of weeks.  I finally feel like I have the energy to sit up long enough to write something, so here it goes!

I was scheduled for a D&C last Wednesday at noon.  Doc managed to get the day off.  I am really glad he was there with me because I don’t know how I would have managed the day without him.  He was sick, but tried to rally for me.  The fact that Doc was sick for the second time this year should give you a clue as to how stressful this has been.  Doc gets sick once in a blue moon, I can’t ever remember a time when he was sick twice in the same year! 

Wednesday came and we arrived at the surgical center in the hospital for check in at 10.  This was an area of the hospital Doc wasn’t familiar with and it was by far the nicest surgical center I have ever seen in a hospital.  They assigned me a number and updated a board with my procedure so Doc could watch how things were progressing, kind of like watching the flight boards at the airport, and also gave him a pager so they could contact him when the doctor was ready to meet with him after my procedure.  Then they put us in a private room for all my prep. 

Blood draws, IV, and all the fun that comes before any procedure.  Doc and I watched TV, checked out LOL cats on line, and tried to make the best of it.  When my pre-op nurse informed us that my doctor had only scheduled one procedure for the day, we were surprised.  It turned out that his schedule was full on Tuesday, his normal surgical day, and he didn’t want to make me wait another week for my procedure, so he scheduled me on his on call day.  When you live with a doctor, you know how amazing it is that he would give up part of his afternoon before going on call for 2 nights in OB.  It means he was giving up sleep, time with family, or free time just so that I wouldn’t have to wait another week.  It was kindness beyond measure. 

When my Dr arrived he came with a student; it is a teaching hospital after all.  The student was a 3^rd year medical student who had studied pediatrics under my Doc just recently, so a little awkward.  I opted to allow her to observe the procedure so that she could learn more about D&Cs.  Many schools (like my husband’s) have stopped teaching the procedure because they don’t want to seem abortion friendly, so this may have been her only chance to see one.  I know Doc never saw one while he was in school and seeing how important the procedure became to us this week that is a travesty. 

My doctor decided to perform only a portion of the D&C.  We wanted to have the cervix dilated to remove enough tissue for testing and to also start my body’s natural process without introducing a lot of additional scar tissue into my body.  The major risk of the D&C is scarring which can hinder future pregnancy.  I love that my doctor had thought this through and helped us balance our emotional and physical needs during a rough time. 

For the actual procedure I was under general anesthetic, so I remember going into the OR, waving hello to the surgery tech, asking my anesthesiologist to make me forget the day, made a joke that they are perverts because my gown had a pocket which opened directly to my breast, told them to play some good music, tasted something funny, and woke up in recovery.  If you are going to have a bad day, that is how they should all go. 

Recovery turned out to be the longest part of my day and didn’t go quite as planned.  I woke up and must have said something about my doctor, because the nurse said he was right there.  As I woke up my doctor was holding my hand in recovery and we talked about making our next attempt a bit more successful and hoping he would be delivering a baby for us soon.  I have had several surgeries in my lifetime, but I have never had a doctor holding my hand as I recover.  I feel really blessed to have such an amazing physician helping us through this journey. 

Soon after waking up I began having trouble breathing.  One thing asthma has taught me is to notice when breathing is becoming a problem.  The trouble with this is that it means I notice before my O2 stats drop so that I can correct the problem before I am in danger, but at a hospital you aren’t in danger until your O2 drops.  So I calmly tell my nurse that I am having trouble breathing.  This must be something people in recovery say a lot, because she just told me I was fine and checked my O2 stats.  My airway went from feeling like I was breathing through a garden hose to a drinking straw down to a swizzle stick.  I again told her I couldn’t breathe.  She checked my stats, I was fine.  Finally I stopped being able to move air and form words and could only move my lips and cry.  I struggled to sit up in bed, grabbed my nurse’s scrub edge, and mouthed that I couldn’t breathe.  She ran to get the anesthesiologist and they started injecting things into my IV.  Slowly I could breathe again, but it was through a swizzle stick and I was making a horrible sound as I tried to breathe.  They said it was a laryngospasm, basically my vocal cords clamped down and wouldn’t allow air to move.  It sucked and scared the crap out of me.  My O2 stats finally dropped and then the computer said my O2 monitor was faulty… after the crises had passed. 

I apologized to my nurse for grabbing her scrubs, and she let me know it was okay and that she understood I was scared because I couldn’t breathe.  I will never understand why people treat their nurses and doctors poorly while in the hospital.  It is like yelling at your waitress and then not expecting to eat her spit with your dinner.  These people worked hard to make sure I was okay and well cared for on a really bad day of my life, I am thankful they were there and so kind.  These were truly the best nurses I have ever had caring for me (with the exception of my mom of course).  They treated me with kindness and compassion.  When they checked me for bleeding they allowed me to retain my dignity as they did so.  Really they were excellent. 

After several hours in recovery we were finally allowed to leave.  My post-op stage 2 nurse walked me to the car and wished us good luck on starting a family.  She was very kind.  For the next 2 days the majority of my complaints were neck and chest related.  My neck was very swollen and painful, so much so that even the muscles in my face hurt and felt pulled on.

This weekend is when my body finally figured out we were having a miscarriage.  It has made for a rough and exhausting weekend.  I will spare you guys the gory details.  Needless to say, it is a heck of a lot worse than any period I have ever had.  I slept for 20 hours yesterday.  I only got up to use the bathroom, eat, and wish my dad a happy birthday. 

Doc had to return to work and doesn’t get home until after 8 each day, so I have had to take care of myself.  It has been scary, hard, and lonely, but I really only want him around me, so I keep going it alone.  I know he wishes he could be home more, and I wish he could be home more, but he is needed at work.  We have had an amazing out pouring of support from the hospital.  Offers to bring me treats and walk our dogs.  People have been very kind and I may actually be finally feeling up to seeing people again.  Every day I hope the worst is behind us.  So far I have been wrong, but I’ve been up for 2 hours today and so far so good! J