Results from my labs yesterday are in. My fSH levels are 5.7 and estradiol 80. Next step is to call Dr Lee on my next first cycle date to schedule another blood draw to test my HSG levels. Hopefully they won’t blow all my veins again and make me look like a heroin addict.
This blog is for our loved ones. It is meant to keep you guys updated with our personal journey. We are not here to gain sympathy.
June 2011: I started my period on time this month, but I was lightly bleeding on and off for about 2 weeks. My normal cycle is usually 3-5 days. I was evaluated by a RN at Planned Parenthood and all she told me was to continue taking advil for the discomfort and never did a pregnancy test. I had taken a home pregnancy test the week before and it had came out negative so I didn’t think too much about what was going on.
June 26, 2011 : After a weekend of river rafting with family and friends, I remember waking up in the hotel really early with a bad abdominal cramp. I fished out my bottle of Advil and hoped it would be the cure. Later we were eating lunch at Madam Mam’s Thai Restaurant. Thai food is one of my ultimate favorite things to eat but for some reason I didn’t have much of an appetite. I remember feeling like I had to go to the bathroom and when I stood up I felt something slide out. I didn’t think anything about it, just thought it was one of those blood clots you pass during your period. After closer inspection in the bathroom, it was no ordinary clot I’ve ever seen.
June 27, 2011: My boss referred me to her OB/GYN when I got into work. After meeting up with the Doc, she concluded it was a miscarriage and advised that I come back in 3 days for another blood draw to make sure my hormone levels went down. Since I had passed tissue, she didn’t feel the need to do an ultrasound.
Over the next two weeks, I would get random twinges of discomfort but nothing that warranted medical attention. At the end of the first week, I started getting bloated. My stomach was so distended that it looked like I had gone on an eating binge. Then came what felt like heart burn and acid indigestion. Everyday it was tums or Maalox.
July 11, 2011: I’m on the floor at work. The burning sensation under my ribcage was at it again but much worse this time. I couldn’t breath with all the burning in my chest! We’re thinking that I may need to go see a GI specialist. I end up going home, taking some pain meds to sleep it off.
July 13, 2011: I wake up around 6am feeling like someone took a hot metal rod and just stirred my insides up with it. I call the OB/GYN and left a message for them to call me when they opened. The nurse calls at 9am and tells me to come in as soon as I could. Tuan leaves work so he could take me in. After enduring a painful physical exam with lots of tears, the doc decides to do a transvag ultrasound. She tells me to come back Friday to see her partner. He specializes in miscarriages she tells me. I just wanted to go home and lay down by this time. I didn’t want anymore poking around on my stomach.
July 15, 2011: Dr Singer does another transvag ultrasound. This time it’s not too uncomfortable and I’m able to get through the procedure without any tears. Both doctors tell me that they see a possible 2-3mm clot. Apparently I had an ectopic pregnancy in my left Fallopian tube which caused it to rupture and bleed into my abdomen. That would explain the sudden pain that left me floored and the constant bloating and heart burn. I had two choices……either they wheelchair me next door to St Paul’s ER or an ambulance would take me to Parkland. There was no way they were letting me go home. I had to call Tuan and have him meet me at St Paul’s. I remember just not really knowing how to feel about the whole situation. As I waited to be admitted in the ER, I had to call my mom and break her the news. By this time very few people knew I even had a miscarriage, let alone an ectopic. As all moms, she totally freaked out and said she and my dad would come straight to Dallas. I still didn’t quite understand how big of a deal this surgery was so I told her to not come and that I most likely will get to go home that night (such wishful thinking now that I think about it).
Once I finally got admitted but into a regular room. The doctors did an ultrasound to see how big my clot was. It turned out to be about 10mm. They were able to see that the blood went almost to my lungs. This put me back to ER status and I was to be prepped immediately for emergency laprascopy. I wasn’t even scared or worried at this time. I joked with the nurses and used humor as my way of coping. One nurse said he didn’t want to see me postsurgery because he only wanted to remember me smiling. My first surgery ever, and it was a life/death situation. They even prepared me for a possible hysterectomy. Great. The one time I get pregnant may have been my last.
I remember them asking me to count backwards starting at 5. I don’t think I got past 4. Propofol is an amazing drug! Durning this time my parents arrived and so did Tuan’s mom. My BFF and her kids came before I was taken back so they were the only people besides Tuan that I got to see presurgical. What should have been a simple hour surgery turned into 4 hours. I still remember waking up in the recovery room FREEZING to death. The first words out of my mouth were, “Why is it so fucking cold in here?”….I guess that’s why the one nurse didn’t want to see me after.
For the next 8 hours, someone came in and poked at me. I had to wear these leg compressors on both legs that inflated and deflated every 2 minutes. This was to prevent blood clots from being inactive for a period of time. They made my legs so sweaty, I convinced one of the nurses to take them off. That only lasted until the next nurse came in to poke at me. Then came the discussion of a possible blood transfusion. I ended up not needing one, which is good because I didn’t want it anyways. Eventually the morphine drip knocked me out again. I slept through 2 blood draws, passed out on a few visitors and all the while Hubby snoring away beside me.
By the time morning came around, I was ready to go home. The back of my head looked like a ratty bird’s nest, and I was tired of being poked at. I wanted to punch this one doctor who came in and shoved around on my abdomen. Who goes around and pokes on sutures?
After being in the hospital for 24 hours, I finally got to go home. I even went to work on Monday. Didn’t last but 5 hours and went home to sleep off the pain.