Friday, July 8, 2011

The Week That Broke Me

     This week was a festering, buzzing fly encrusted pile of crap. The beginning of the week held great promise- I had my first ultrasound. I'm always filled with excitement and renewed anticipation whenever I see proof that there really is life living inside me. The ultrasound went well, I saw our baby; it waved at me. And that's where things started the slow degenerative slide into the realm of craptastic. I couldn't pee after the ultrasound (anyone who has ever had an ultrasound understands that I had to drink 6.8 gallons of water prior to my appointment and sympathizes that I was certainly ready to hit up the bathroom.) I had been having trouble peeing for a few weeks now. Sometimes, even though I am full and willing, it takes up to an hour before I can go. And once, I had to go to the ER and have a catheter inserted so I could void. It was embarrassing- but no one was overly concerned so neither was I. Until Tuesday. I came home and tried to pee again but to no avail. I ran the tap water next to me. Nope. I shifted positions. No go. I hoped in the frigging shower. No. And now I was soggy. At this point my bladder sent an urgent signal to my brain informing it of an impending explosion if I didn't figure things out soon {code yellow! code yellow! reservoir overflowing! evacuate stat!} I called Nick, and almost sounded coherent explaining that he needed to turn around and come home. This was done while 'dancing' around the dining room table- the stupid dog hopping and barking after me thinking I was playing with him instead of trying to placate my bladder. I couldn't wait; I ran to my neighbours' and told her that the kids were napping in their rooms and Nick was on his way home. If the house happens to burst into flames- please go rescue the little ones...and then I ran to the truck and headed to the hospital.
   Side Note: Although I am no longer up for nomination for Mother Of The Year, Julie is certainly Neighbour Extraordinaire. She came over and read a book on the stairs while waiting for Nick to arrive home. Also, the house did not burst into flames. Small wonders...
     So in the catheter went...relief! Until the doctor told me that it was going to stay in and that I was going to see a neurologist the next day. A neurologist? Well. Shit. That can't be good. Home I went with a head full of worry and a bag strapped to my leg.
     The neurologist took 10 minutes to send my back to the ER- c'est pas ma job essentially. Different ER doctor. Took him two hours to figure out what was wrong and solve it.
   Side Note: I must admit, the four previous doctors may have figured it out too if I had given them all the information. "Nope, I'm not on any medication Sir" ~ Rachel
     At the last minute I told this doctor that I was on meds for morning sickness and Bingo! I am allergic to Diclectin and my reaction presented itself in the form of urinary retention a.k.a not being able to pee on my own. Stop taking the pills and spend the next three days "re-training" my bladder. The urologist I saw yesterday set me up with home care, so a nurse came to my house to remove the catheter today and will come back to re-insert it if need be.
    So I can pee again!!  But the vomiting from morning sickness had reared its ugly head again. I just can't win.

     This week we also discovered that our cottage was broken into and trashed. The insurance will cover it, but we will lose the rental income from it for the rest of the summer...and we had to take it off the market as well (hard to sell a cottage with water damage and holes in the I'm told anyways.) Now Nick will have to work some serious overtime to keep our budget balanced and to compensate for the loss of my income.

     I had to buy a dress yesterday. We have Nick's best friend's wedding to attend this weekend and with all the peeing issues I was having, things got left 'til the last minute. I went to my urologist appointment early and went shopping. Miracle of all miracles, I found a pretty dress that fits and baubles to match and went to the cash. Where was my wallet? Oh that's right- on the kitchen counter next to the laptop where I checked my bank account. I had $12 in loonies and toonies in the cup holder of the car. I put the dress back and sat in the car. And cried. After my moment of self pity had passed, I went into Walmart and bought the cheapest magazine I could find. I then headed to McDonalds and got a happy meal and snack sized Mcflurry- extra Oreos crumbs please. I sat in the sun and ate my lunch, read my (surprisingly good) magazine and collected my marbles.

     I'm ready for a better weekend. Or at the very least, not a crappy one. Please.

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