The Hospital: Day Two

I asked the nurse for a second dose of the pain medication and the nausea medication at about three in the morning, about five hours after the first dose. Things did not get quite as bad this time round, because I asked for medication fairly quickly after I began to feel discomfort. And because the doctor had already put in the orders for the medication, it was already available for me. The nurse did accidentally drop the vial of nausea medication and had to call housekeeping to clean up the broken glass, but other than that, things seemed to be going relatively smoothly at that point.

A resident doctor came by to check on me at about the same time and asked how I was doing. I told her I was doing fairly okay since I had been getting medication and the bleeding seemed to have slowed down since that afternoon. Of course, none of it changed the fact that I was there to end my baby's life, but I did not say that to her.

At half past seven in the morning, the night nurse's shift ended and the other one, the one who had met me when I had first been wheeled into the surgery floor, came back. To me, that was an indicator that I was that much closer to getting it all over with and going home. I had nothing against the night nurse, but I thought that I would not have to see her again because I was not going to stay that long.

The day nurse asked me how I was doing. I told her I was feeling better under the effect of the medications. She said I could take a walk down the hallway if I wanted to. I told her I was feeling rather weak because I had not kept any food down since the previous morning. And it was rather uncomfortable to move around with the IV. Every time I moved my left hand, even while still in bed, it hurt where the needle was. She said she would get me a hot pack for my hand. She also got me a hot pack for my abdomen. It had been more than four hours since the last time I took medication, but I had rather mild cramps and did not feel the need for more pain killers at that point. The warmth from the hot pack was rather nice and comforting.

The nurse told me that it would probably be around one or two in the afternoon when the doctor would send somebody to take me to the operating room. But the doctor would come by in the morning to check on me, she said.

The day shift resident doctor came in to check on me. Two senior doctors from the department of Maternal Fetal Medicine at that hospital came in later in the morning. They told me that my doctor was not yet in but they worked with him and wanted to know how I was doing. I told them that I had started getting cramps and bouts of nausea pretty much as soon as the doctor was finished inserting the laminaria he was using to dilate my cervix. The doctors told me that the dilation can sometimes have that kind of side effect, even though it is very gradual dilation.

I had a few moments to myself before my husband came back. I knew he would come in around eleven in the morning, to avoid getting caught in early morning rush hour traffic that was usually rather heavy, with so many people trying to get into the city for work. I took those few moments to say a prayer to God and ask for his forgiveness, and to talk to my baby for the very last time and ask for her forgiveness. I wanted her to know that we had made this decision only because we loved her and did not want her to suffer all through her life. We did not want her to live a partial existence. We did not want her to live just for the sake of living. I told her that we would always love her and that we would hold her in Heaven.

She was moving vigorously inside my stomach, like she always did when she was hungry. I felt so helpless at the fact that I could not give her anything to eat. I wanted to ask the nurse if we could possibly give her something to eat. I cried because my baby did not know, but I knew, that her hunger and discomfort were soon going to be relieved in a very unexpected way.

The nurse pulled away the blinds from the window and pointed out how beautiful the day was. I think every mother hopes that the day her child is born is a beautiful day. But for it to be a beautiful day when you know your child is going to die just makes things that much more painful and harder to deal with.

My husband came in soon enough. I don't know if he was actually feeling better or just trying to be strong for me, but he put forth a more cheerful exterior that day and it put me in a better mood. At that point, it was just a long waiting game, not knowing when the operating room would have an opening for me.

I had expected to be called in towards the later end of the time range that the nurse had told me. But to my surprise and relief, a man with a stretcher came by for me at a little past one. He wheeled me to the preoperative area. A nurse met me there and asked some basic questions about drug allergies and whether I was prone to motion sickness. I told her I was very prone to it. She wrote down my husband's cell phone number so they could get in touch with him once it was all over. The anesthesiologist also came by to introduce himself and talk about the anesthesia. He told me that he would start the medication through my IV to put me to sleep, and once I was asleep, they would put in a mask through which I would breathe in a different medication to keep me asleep. I would also get some stronger pain medication during the course of the procedure. The most common side effect of the anesthesia, he said, was that patients often felt nauseous afterwards. The next most common effect was a sore throat, which was caused by the medication I would be breathing in through the mask. The sore throat, if it happened, should be mild and short lived. I no longer cared if I got nauseated and threw up a few more times, although I did not say that to him. I had had a lot of that kind of thing and was somewhat used to it by then.

The anesthesiologist changed my IV drip from the fluid to the anesthesia. The IV hurt again. I did not know what to expect, if I would fall asleep gradually or suddenly, or how long it would take. I just tried to relax. The doctor came in for a few minutes and asked how my night had been. I told him it had been rather unpleasant and uncomfortable. He asked if I had been bleeding a lot. I said no, I had not bled much since I had last seen him, the previous afternoon. But I had had some bad cramps and nausea. He said he was very sorry to hear that.

Very soon afterwards, they wheeled me towards the operating room. I was a little surprised to see that they were wheeling me in while I was still completely awake. I had no idea how long it would take me to fall asleep, but I thought I should have been feeling at least somewhat drowsy by then.

I had never seen an operating room from the inside before. I saw that they had some big lights, which would probably be quite bright when turned on. The gurney that I was supposed to be lying on during the surgery was rather narrow. The was a clock on the wall that I was facing, and it read half past two when they brought me in. The nurses lifted me up and moved me on to the gurney, and just as I was trying to get comfortable on it, I fell asleep. Completely.

Next thing I knew, it was a quarter past three on the clock in front of me and the anesthesiologist was telling me to wake up because the surgery was over. The first thing I noticed was that my belly had shrunk. I became a little misty eyed and stroked my belly a few times. I also noticed that my throat was a little scratchy, but I had been told to expect that. The anesthesiologist asked how I was feeling. I told him I felt okay, except that my throat felt a little sore and I had a bit of pain in my right upper thigh, near the joint where my thigh connected to my torso. The nurses took me to the post operative recovery area and left me in charge of one nurse there. The nurse gave me a blanket that had been warmed up in something that looked like a toaster oven. She covered up my abdomen and upper thigh with it. That felt really nice and helped relieve the pain. I told her that the bed I was on was probably too short, because my feet were hanging off it. That was probably another reason why my thigh was achy. When I bent my leg or turned to my side, it hurt less. She called another nurse to help her move me on the bed so that my head would be farther up on the bed and my feet would not hang off it. I asked her if I was bleeding a lot, because I felt rather wet. I had no idea if I was even wearing a pad or even an underwear at that point. It turned out that I was wearing both, and the pad did not have a lot of blood on it, the nurse told me. But she changed it for me anyway, to help me feel drier. That was the first time in my life that someone else had changed a pad for me. I hoped that that kind of thing would not have to happen again, that I would never be so dependent on other people again.

The nurse said that my bleeding appeared to be slowing down, but my heartbeat was too fast. I could feel it, my heart was beating furiously in my chest. It seemed to her that I was somewhat dehydrated,and she increased the dosage on my IV fluid. I cringed in pain. "What hurts?" she asked. "The IV?"

"Yes," I told her. I added that it always hurt when someone changed anything with it.

A little while later, she told me that my heartbeat seemed to be coming down and I was probably ready to go back to my room. It was about half past five when she changed my pad one more time and sent me back to my room.

My husband was waiting for me in the room. I greeted him with a big smile, much more cheerful than I had been in many weeks. I was just so relieved, at that point, to just get rid of all that physical pain and discomfort that I had been going through all through the pregnancy, and especially during the last two days. I may be a terrible person for thinking this, but I did feel a strong sense of relief at that moment, relief because I was no longer physically in pain and relief because it was all over. Throughout the pregnancy, I had constantly worried and wondered about whether or not the pregnancy would end on a happy note. My mind was finally free from the heavy load of that worrying.

The nurse brought me some ice chips in a cup. She said I could crunch on those for a while, because it would not be the best idea to start eating right away. I felt a lot better chewing and sucking on the ice chips than I had felt in a long while. My mouth had been feeling extremely dry and rather uncomfortable. The nurse finally took the IV out and that was also a huge relief. She measured my vital signs again, and she said my heartbeat was still somewhat fast. I told her the nurse downstairs had told me that it was probably so because of dehydration, but I was sure it was stabilizing, because I could no longer feel my heart beating furiously fast. She said she would need to talk to the doctor and brought me some apple juice and crackers to snack on in the meantime.

The doctor who had performed the surgery had spoken to my husband immediately after it was over, and he had told him that it had all gone very smoothly with no problems. The doctor also came by my room to see me and to tell me the same thing. He also said that he hoped to see me again soon, with happier news.

Because of the elevated heart rate, they wanted to check some blood tests to make sure I was okay before letting me go home. The nurse said that they would ask for the blood work results stat, which meant that they would probably get them back in an hour or an hour and a half or so. By this time, it was basically time for the day nurse to go home but she still came in to draw my blood and then to read and explain my discharge instructions to me. There was still a chance that they would keep me there another night, if the blood work results were of some concern, but everyone was basically hoping and assuming that I would get to go home that night.

I asked the nurse if I was allowed to shower that night after I got home. She said yes, I was, and added that it would certainly feel good to take a shower after all that I had been through. I agreed, I had not had a chance to take a real shower in two days and I badly wanted one. Because my surgery had not involved any stitches, I was allowed to shower normally that night.

It was already well past time for the nurse to go home but she still wanted to finish what she was doing. My husband asked if it was okay for him to bring me something to eat. She said I could eat if I wanted to. He said he would run down to get something from a sandwich shop that he knew was just around the corner from the hospital, and where he had gone for his lunch. I told him I did not want to eat any meat, because I did not think my stomach could take it at that point, but I would be willing to eat a sandwich with vegetables and sour pickles. We ate while we waited for the blood work results. For the first time since I had been there, I noticed that there was a TV in my room and I turned it on. For a few minutes there, it began to feel like a very normal evening at home, watching TV and eating dinner together. My husband had been rather willing to wait until after seven in the evening to go home, because that way, we would avoid traffic, but he and I both began to get rather restless when the clock showed half past eight.

The evening nurse, whom I had not expected to see again, was back to measure my vital signs again. She did say that my heart rate seemed to be stabilizing.

It was a little past nine when the resident doctor came in. She asked how much bleeding I was having at that point. I told her it was not much, I had not changed my pad in almost four hours, since the recovery room nurse had changed it and sent me back to the room. And there was not a lot of blood on that pad either. The doctor thought that was a good thing. She said that my blood work was stable and my heart rate was also stabilizing, so I could go home. I was very relieved to hear those words. I basically jumped out of bed and changed out of the hospital gown into my own clothes as quickly as I could.

The nurse asked if I needed a wheelchair to get to the car. I told her I was feeling much better physically than I had felt while coming into the hospital, and I was definitely able to walk now, if I had walked then, with all the pain.

We had to stop at a pharmacy to fill my prescriptions on the way home. There were three medications, including a pain killer, which was just ibuprofen. We did not buy that one since we already had some at home and I may or may not actually need it. There was an antibiotic and another medication which was supposed to help contract my uterus back to its normal size and to keep me from bleeding too much.

By the time we got home, showered, and got into bed, it was close to midnight. I fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow, because I had had an almost completely sleepless night, the previous night at the hospital, and two very long days. The most rest I got while in the hospital was probably in the forty five minutes I was asleep in the operating room. I was just glad to be able to shower in my own bathroom and sleep in my own bed once again.