Headfuck

Maybe this one will be a wizard, rather than a toad

by Veronica on January 25, 2012

in Headfuck

When Isaac was five months old, way back in June of 2009 (right before my grandmother died and part of my family decided that they really didn’t approve of me and everything went to fucking hell) Isaac was hospitalised for a suspected intussusception in his bowel.

The ultrasound was inconclusive, but the screaming (good God, the screaming) was not and he was admitted for observation.

In the morning, whatever had caused the pain had eased, and we were sent home, none the wiser as to cause.

Then life went to hell for a while and a few years later, we are finally clawing our way back to some semblance of normality. Since then, both children have been diagnosed with autism, as well as Ehlers Danlos Syndrome – two added things that make everything else very complicated.

Isaac has bowel issues, that include, among other things, constant leaking. He’s in nappies and we’re trying to transition him to underpants, but when he is leaking poo nearly constantly, it is not all that easy.

We’ve been trying, with our Paed, to get Isaac’s issues sorted (bowel issues, autism issues, hypermobility issues) since some weeks after his suspected intussusception. Considering that was two and a half years ago now, I think we can say that we’ve failed. Or that we’ve been failed, because the medical system seems to see us, scratch their heads and send us away to “wait and see” or to “deal with his sensory problems and see what happens”. Basically, here is the too-hard basket, sit in it for a while.

He’s not constipated and nothing works to clear his bowels out. Nothing, nothing, nothing. We don’t have a day in which I don’t change a dirty nappy every hour, or underpants every 20 minutes. It’s wearing. It’s frustrating and honestly, I’m a little sick to death of it all.

This afternoon however, I went back to our GP (who until this point, assumed that the Paed was managing the children, because he didn’t see them except for sore ears and immunisations). I dumped the entire issue in his lap and requested to be referred somewhere better. To someone who specialises in bowel issues, bonus points if they know children as well.

And he did.

I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry, because it was that easy. It’s been over two fucking years of this bullshit – could our Paed not have sent us to a specialist YEARS AGO?

Why, yes. Yes he could. But no, no he didn’t. And life was so chaotic at that point, it was easier to let someone else do the managing for us.

It’s a waiting game now, again – but this time, there might actually be light at the end of the tunnel.

Or at least, someone who knows what they’re doing.

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Recovering

by Veronica on December 7, 2011

in Grief, Headfuck, My body is broken.

Apparently when you have a fortnight as crazy as I did, you get to the end of it and your mental state is fried.

Who’d have thought it?

In lieu of blogging, I’ve been spending all of my time drinking tea and reading books (Diana Gabaldan’s “Cross Stitch” series) and contemplating my lack of energy. A little bit can be attributed to depression, a lot of it was sheer exhaustion. Today is better, thanks to a psych appointment yesterday, increased sunshine and warmth and an hour planting flowers in the orchard.

Admittedly my pear tree isn’t looking great, but it’s the first year in the ground.

Isn’t my view pretty at the moment?

I got my second set of HCG results back yesterday. Sixteen. ARGH. I’m still wanting to throw up on and off, which has to be my reaction to the progesterone in my system. It’s unpleasant, regardless of what is causing it.

My mental recovery has been relatively easy. Because I’d bled from the very beginning, I wasn’t entirely convinced that my pregnancy was going to be viable. Being proved correct wasn’t what I wanted, but knowing that nearly every woman out there has gone through it makes it a little easier. Misery loves company and all that. Knowing that I wasn’t alone in things, that helped.

Thanks to our wedding gifts, we’re hopeful that we can get the toilet moved inside in the new year, which will be great. Another winter of freezing near to death in order to pee doesn’t appeal to me.

We’re down to two ducklings now. I started listing all of the things that might have happened to the other babies the other day and then went “huh. I am really not surprised.” It’s a harsh world for small bundles of yellow fluff.

I also bought myself some water colour paints. Now I’m just trying to work out if I have the energy to paint myself a pretty new header for here.

 

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I went for an obstetric ultrasound and all I got was this lousy empty uterus

by Veronica on December 1, 2011

in Headfuck, My body is broken., Pregnant. Finally.

A week before the wedding, I got a positive pregnancy test, which was lovely and fantastic and completely unexpected. Seeing as how we weren’t planning on starting Clomid until January, a natural pregnancy was a bit of a shock.

But that’s okay – it was a good shock and I only told a very few people because I was spotting (my period started and stopped again, for those keeping track at home) and we weren’t sure what was happening.

Then of course we ended up in Hospital with Isaac; running around like idiots getting the wedding prep and I was quietly vomiting in the corners when I had the chance. So much fun.

We got married and while I spotted a little over the weekend, it wasn’t anything too major and I wasn’t bothered. Bleeding through an entire pregnancy with Isaac has raised my tolerance levels for spotting and such.

Monday, I made an appointment with my GP to get my pregnancy confirmed and an ultrasound scheduled.

Monday afternoon, I started to bleed relatively heavily – although not as heavy as a normal period, nor as painful.

By Tuesday, it had lightened up a little, to the point that I wasn’t certain that I’d lost the pregnancy.

Yesterday, I was still bleeding, but fed up with waiting for my appointment, I begged my GP to fax a referral off so that I could have an ultrasound ASAP to find out what was going on.

Nothing bothers me worse than not knowing. Limbo is a special kind of torture for me and that limbo of bleeding too much to feel safe in my pregnancy, but not enough to be certain of a miscarriage was hell.

This morning I got my ultrasound.

And nothing.

Empty uterus. No sign of pregnancy there at all.

Which is fucking ridiculous, considering I spent the morning throwing up, and got another positive urine test yesterday evening.

My body is fucked, you guys. It can’t do ANYTHING right.

I went back to my GP to have blood HCG done and he’s as baffled as I am.

Either I lost this pregnancy with minimal cramping and bleeding Monday night (unlikely?) or something weird is going on. Considering my body never falls on the easy side of statistics, my vote is for weird.

I know when we are likely to have conceived (within the limits of sperm life), because I’m anal and I chart everything, but something is amiss here.

Namely, the lack of fetus like material in my uterus. Or a uterus that looks pregnant at all.

Argh.

I’ll have my blood HCG levels back tomorrow lunchtime and if the levels are still pregnant (very likely) then I’ll have a second lot of bloods drawn on Monday to test and see if they’re going up or down.

But until then, I’m stuck in this limbo hell, bleeding and vomiting, feeling pregnant and bemoaning my stupid uterus.

And watching for signs of ectopic pregnancy, with increasing stress.

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Grief, stress, grumpiness and man, I am tired

by Veronica on November 17, 2011

in Grief, Headfuck, I'm getting married

I am getting married in just over a week.

I discovered today that we don’t have as many tables as I thought we ought to, seating is a bit iffy (picnic rugs anyone?) and everything is needing to be tied together. If we add in an IRL fight with someone (and I am RIGHT and you are WRONG and being an IDIOT) and a Big Thing* happening at the same time, I have my hands a little full.

Okay, they’re a lot full.

Adding to this, the entire house has been stricken with some form of ‘flu and we’re all whining at each other, while we fight for space on the couch and which DVD we want to watch.

To top it off, I appear to be getting my period. Cycle day 57 people. FIFTY FUCKING SEVEN. Tomorrow should be cycle day one. ARGH.

And the cherry on top? I dislocated my GOOD knee yesterday.

Never mind Internet, never mind. It will all be FINE, but you know. If bursting into tears while venting during a DM conversation last night is any indication, I’m a little stressed.

+++

When I was a kid, each year before my birthday, Nan would take me to a musical at the Theatre Royal. It would make up part of my birthday present and frequently we would get front row seats, which was very exciting.

One year, the musical was Les Miserables and it was a HUGE performance at the Derwent Entertainment Centre. It was even more exciting because Nan was part of the cast, singing in the choir. I spent weeks down at her house before hand, listening to her sing while she learned all of the songs.

After it finished its run, Nan gave me CD’s with the entire performance recording on them. Somewhere in a couple of house moves and a very active destructive toddler (Amy) I lost two of the CD’s.

But, for a long time, Les Miserables was my go-to music when I was stressed.

Screaming baby at 3am? Play Les Mis.

Angry at Nathan for working all night and then needing to sleep during the day (the cheek!) Play Les Mis.

Sing the songs, listen to the words and calm back down.

+++

I hadn’t listened to any of the songs from Les Miserables for years now.

Nan is dead and some things just don’t need poking.

But, I was talking to Nathan the other day and I mentioned “Lovely Ladies” as a song to make you smile, in a warped sort of way. And so I found it on Youtube, along with the entire musical score, care of someone uploading it.

And you know what?

It still works on stress. Of course, it makes me sadder now, but there is nothing like a good musical for making you feel ever so slightly better.

In a warped sort of way, anyway.

*I should be able to announce the Big Thing early next week. I’m just waiting for some things to fall into place.

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The juxtaposition of both happy and sad

by Veronica on October 27, 2011

in Cancer, Grief, Headfuck

I got some amazing news today. Throw your hat in the air and shout kind of news, run around the house squealing, tell everyone in sight kind of news.

(No, I am not pregnant.)

It was amazing news. I poked Nathan until he woke up – lazy bones was napping on the couch – and told him. I rang my parents, and spoke to my father and told him the great news. Mum wasn’t home.

I was so over the moon that I caught myself for a split second starting to dial the number for my grandmother.

And then I burst into tears because she is dead and I can’t ring and tell her. Suddenly I wasn’t so excited, I was just bone crushingly sad.

Death is hard. Death hits you at the strangest of times, when things are going well. You’ll be travelling along, and things will be just fucking perfect and then your brain will collapse in on itself and you’ll be left sobbing. Death is so final and I think that is the hardest part to live with.

I cried for an hour and then I rang my mother and we celebrated and cried together, because that is what you do.

Knowing that Nan would be excited and proud isn’t the same as ringing and speaking to her. Knowing that she would be cheering me on from the sidelines is nothing like sitting down and telling her about it. It’s just not the same.

Things are going well for me. They’re going really really well. I got another couple of businesses to sign on to Showcase Tasmania, I’ve got a few more interested and in the process of confirming and deciding and (the biggest thing I suspect) it’s finally Not Winter anymore.

I am happy. I am truly truly happy. And in the same breath, I am so terribly sad, because I am getting married in a month, my blog is doing well, things are happening for me and my grandmother is still too dead to share this with.

And that is the problem right now.

***

Ghosts and the possibility thereof aside, death is death. It’s final and I can’t change that.

I should hopefully be able to share my news with you in the next week or so. I am really excited about this, but you know, pass the tissues. I’ll cry and dance at the same time.

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