In the interests of being honest, today is a really stinky day. I was supposed to see the doctor at 8:30 this morning and get my blood drawn to check my hcg level. It had dropped to 7 as of Monday, so I really expected it to be nothing today – the doctor visit was so that I could complain about the ongoing low-grade fever and weird pains that haven’t gone away. Apparently, they didn’t actually schedule that visit on Monday like I thought. Maybe the nurse was irritated with me Monday and just told me to come in so I would shut up. So I rushed to an appointment that I didn’t actually have. I agreed to wait until the nurse called back with my lab results to try to see the doctor since “he’ll want to get the results first, anyway.”
The nurse actually called earlier than normal to tell me that my hcg level is officially negative at 3 (it just had to get under 5), and the doctor said that if I still feel bad and am running a fever, then I should go see my g.p. to get it checked out. It’s frustrating (I really feel more strongly than that, but there’s no adequate word) to be told that a symptom is medically irrelevant for three weeks and then to suddenly be told to go get someone else to check it out because now that the pregnancy is technically over it’s a symptom. Given that everything but the fever is still a gynecological issue, I’m trying to figure out which doctor, if any, should poke and prod. My Ob/Gyn will most likely tell me the same thing the specialist did – “It’s just your body trying to get rid of the pregnancy and get all of your hormones back to normal. You just need to have a period and then everything should go back to normal.” I don’t know that I could see my internist about this tomorrow without breaking down in his office, most likely leading to the same answer as the Ob/Gyn and a possible psych hold.
And we’re going to the beach for a week with my husband’s family. I am tired and frustrated, which doesn’t help with packing and trying to tie up the loose ends for work and housekeeping. I would normally love the beach, but this week it just sounds exhausting and frustrating. I still can’t really swim right now (girly details that don’t bear typing), and the idea of sitting outside roasting makes me want to hide in a dark closet and sleep for a year, which I’ll have to do if I want to take part in any of the few planned activities this weekend. A break would be really nice, but this won’t really be a break for me – it will be transporting the angst to a sandy location. Although, as I told my mother-in-law earlier this week, I can feel like poop anywhere, so I guess it might as well be at the beach.
I actually tallied up the days and weeks of this whole event last night: six weeks of spotting and bleeding with assorted aches, pains and cramps (ongoing), three weeks of fever (ongoing), and five weeks from the hcg nosedive until it finally dropped to negative. The nurse pointed out that my whole case has been unusual, so there was really nothing they could have done differently. I feel badly for venting even a little at the nurse because she was just doing her job, but it’s frustrating (again, there should be a more emphatic word) to only be able to function at less than half capacity for almost a month while we waited for things to resolve only to be told to start over with a different doctor. I think I’m going to wait for a little bit because I’m just as sure as the doctor is that if my hormones will just settle down, everything will go back to normal. I just don’t remember what normal feels like right now.
Today stinks. It reeks of frustration and exhaustion and a whole sweaty gym locker full of emotional aromas. I will be fine, and I know this will end soon enough. Today at least will end at midnight, so that’s a bonus, and my best friend has impeccable phone timing and got to help me pick up the pieces. God has given me exactly what I need, when I need it, so I’m going to stop complaining. 😉