Changes

The sickness has definitely let go of its death grip.   I can function for a large portion of the day now, which is a blessing.

I’m still unable to eat very much, especially as the afternoon goes on.  By the time dinner rolls around I’m too sick to eat, and typically end up going to bed after throwing up a couple of times.  Sadly, it’s still a major improvement.

This pregnancy has been so weird, so different from my other 3.  I’ve been much sicker in many ways, but this is the first time I’ve felt the magical improvement in sickness at almost exactly 12 weeks.  Who’s in there?

Keep Playin’ Those Mind Games

Sometimes upon waking up, in the morning or the afternoon, whatever it may be, for a few moments I’m not sick.  It only takes a minute to convince myself that it’s all over, today will be better if I just try harder, and don’t let it get the best of me.

I’m in for a crushing blow when the nausea creeps back in and builds over the next 10 minutes or so.  First I’m in denial, thinking that it doesn’t feel that bad, and another 10 minutes later I’m horizontal again, trying not to dwell on the nausea. 

Sometimes I wake up running for the bathroom.  This is usually preceded by being in bed motionless, trying to concentrate on my breathing in an attempt to push away the need to vomit. 

In the beginning I didn’t try to fight it, I just let myself throw up.  But as the weeks roll by the vomiting becomes more painful, and you’re praying for a way to avoid purging bile into the toilet, a way to avoid having your face in that place, the last place you’d want it to be.  You want to surrender to someone, cry uncle, just let it be over. 

It’s ridiculous.  It’s really a small wonder that most doctors can’t seem to get their minds around this illness.  I can barely get my own mind around it.

11 weeks.

I’d Rather Be in Gitmo

I think I’ll have a t-shirt made with that on it. 

I sometimes sit and think about what horrible things I’d rather be doing for 9 months, other than having hyperemesis.  I’d rather spend 9 months in Gitmo than have HG. 

Like when I was in the ER yesterday, for example.  What a rotten place to be when you’re sick. 

It’s funny to be admonished by your doctor for not drinking enough, even after you’ve told him you are hyperemetic are barely tolerating liquids.

ER doc:  “You must drink!  It will be very bad for the baby if you do not drink.”

Me:  “But I’m hyperemetic.  I have trouble keeping much of anything down.”

ER doc:  “Yes, but you must drink.  For the baby.”

Me:  Blank stare.

Nurse:  “What are you drinking?”

Me:  “I try do drink Sprite, sometimes Orange Dry stays down.”

Nurse:  “Well, you know those things will only make you more dehydrated, right?  You should be having flat ginger ale.”

Me:  Blank stare.

ER doc:  “And you must eat better.  Bran muffins, lots of spinach, to keep you from being constipated.”

Me:  “But I can’t keep any of those things down.”

ER doc:  “You must eat these things, you must eat better.  It isn’t just you you know, there’s two of you to think about.”

Me:  Blank stare.

Really?  Did that conversation really happen, with health care professionals?  I mean, I expect the receptionist in the doctors office to ask me if I’ve tried crackers when I call for my Zofran refill, but an actual doctor?  I wonder if he’s ever tried eating a bowl of spinach when he’s sick throwing up.

I’d rather be in Gitmo, than have to go back to that ER, for anything.

Misery and Happy Easter

I can’t believe it’s the middle of April.  I’ve spent most of the past few weeks unconscious, or wishing to be unconscious.  When I’m asleep I’m not sick and I have dreams about brownies, remembering that they used to taste good to me. 

Easter isn’t going so well, there’s been a sort of miscommunication, or so I’m told.  I think it was more of a no communication.  See, my MIL offered to take the kids and leave me here alone on Easter, which we declined on, since I wanted to share in their Easter morning candy seek and eat.  I deserve some pleasure, yes?

So when she told me that she hadn’t invited anyone else to her house because she wanted me to feel comfortable coming over sick, I assumed we were invited to Easter dinner.  Apparently not.  I guess when I declined to have the kids spend the night there (on Easter), the whole shabang was off.  I wish I had known, because then we could have brought the kids to my sister’s for the afternoon, since we were invited, but I declined because I thought we already had plans. 

Ed knew, of course, but failed to tell me.  Even though I specifically asked him to help me with Easter since I am uselessly sick, to help me make sure the kids have a nice dinner, dessert, etc. 

So now we have no where to go for Easter, and no food in the house, because I’ve been too sick to keep a constant eye on what everyone is doing.  Big mistake, apparently.  And Ed doesn’t think I should be mad at him, and maybe I shouldn’t, who knows.  I already had a huge melt down, so it’s moot point.

That’s what happens when you push a woman who’s been trying not to wish for death for close to a month now.

See, I start out irritated that the MIL just assumes we’re coming over on Easter without inviting us, then I end up mad because we’ve been dumped and no one told me.

At least I now know that I can’t rely on anyone to plan Tommy’s birthday that’s coming in two weeks.  I’ll have to do it myself.  I asked Ed and his mom to help me, and I just found out today (in mid freak out), that that has translated into my MIL having Tommy’s birthday at her house, but not inviting anyone from my side of the family.  Which basically means her, her husband (he doesn’t come to our house), her batty old-lady friend who thinks she’s my kids’ “aunt,” and one 8 year-old step grandson of the MIL’s brother.  Sounds like fun, yes?  Uh, I don’t thinks so. 

We’ll have it here, even if I have to do it puking all over the place and spend the following 3 days in the hospital.

So, Happy Easter and stuff.  Blech.

Still Alive

It’s been a hellish couple of weeks being sick.  I haven’t been able to keep much down, with this bout of HG being marked by a strong aversion to liquids.

Makes staying hydrated, on top of all the vomiting, a very tricky thing.

Saturday I spent the night in the hospital with an IV, and after being sent home for a day I was finally granted the Zofran, which has actually stopped the vomiting, for now.

I’m 9 weeks today, I think.  I’m eating a little more, drinking a little more, but I’m still feeling very weak and tired.  My muscles hurt if I try to do too much, probably from the retching, the lack of food and liquids, and from having spent most of the past couple of weeks in bed.  I cleaned my bathrooms yesterday and put in a load of laundry, and then slept for three hours.  Fortunately, my mother has been here for a week and a half watching the kids.

So for now, we’re all still here, pushing our way through this.