Saturday, 14 February 2009

• Recovery Room

  How am I this morning?
  Hungry.
  Tired but antsy.
  Aware that it's been just a week since I had a miscarriage. It's weird to say it that way. To conjugate the verb "miscarry" in past, present, and future tense. I'm starting to have a teensy tinsy amount of perspective and here are my thoughts:
  When I was in the ER and there was no room for me, and I had to endure what amounted to labor pains with no drugs, and survived, I realized that women have done this for millennia. It is survivable. It's not pleasant, and even less so as there's no baby to hold at the end, as one friend who has had multiple miscarriages put it, but it's not that it can't be survived. Yes, there can be situations that are life-threatening, but I'm in awe of how my body functioned. How it knew what to do, causing really bad pain in the process, and did it, and will, with luck, go back to how it functioned before. Which is connected to this post at Body Impolitic about how we've moved from a factual, no-nonsense approach to talking about women's bodies and our functions in the 1970s to a sanitized, humorized, "cute-ified" way of talking about our bodies that is objectifying and unreal. When I was looking for information about miscarriage I completely forgot about "Our Bodies, Ourselves," I'm ashamed to admit. The information provided wasn't much different than what I read in other places, but it did include some advice I haven't read elsewhere about HOW to miscarry at home. My OB/GYN's office had wanted me to go to the ER in the case of a spontaneous miscarriage, so that's what I did, being the scared, obedient bunny with diabetes that I am.
  
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  The other thing I want to blog about at the moment (gosh, I'm realizing there are probably 10 things in my brain, but I'll try to stay on track, here) is the amazing care I've been on the receiving end of from a variety of paid professionals and unpaid (monetarily, at least) friends and family.
  I want to blog about this because I know there are so many bad experiences that fat people have with health care providers (I've had my own share), but I have had so much support right now.
  These are the shout-outs:
  

  • To my endocrinologist, who I will call Young Dr. Scary Smart. He's probably younger than me (weird to have a doctor who is younger than me) and I adore him on so many levels, but he actually mailed me a handwritten note to say how sorry he was to hear about the results of the ultrasound. He let me know, in that note and in person, how much he respected how hard I was working to control diabetes during pregnancy, how meticulous I was in my record keeping (although, I think I can do better). He wanted to make sure I wasn't feeling guilty or like there's something else I should have done. And he took the time to discuss with me what the potential benefits of losing weight (I brought it up) before I attempt to become pregnant again, if I decide to try again. The timeframe we are talking about is small, and the amount of weight he would expect me to lose in that timeframe was small, and the risks associated with any medication I might take to assist in this direction were not outweighed by benefits, given the timeframe we are talking about. He was so rational, so understanding, so neutral about it, it was amazing. We both came back around to basically doing "healthy lifestyle" things (the same advice he would likely give to a woman who wasn't as large as me). I felt listed to, and supported, and respected. Wow.
  • To the nurses at my OB/GYN's office. There appears to be a baby boom happening right now (starting in 2007) and it's next to impossible to get an appointment with any doctor in my OB/GYN's practice. They are fully booked for months out. However, when I needed ANYTHING related to the pregnancy, and eventually, the miscarriage, the nurses were there for me. They were awesome, compassionate, professional, responsive even though I know they are so busy. They called me to see how I was doing. They bugged the doctors for opinions on treatment. I want to give them some kind of metals.
  • The ER doctor and nurse who treated me with such compassion and care even though it had been a terribly busy and difficult night there (in the town I live in, not all nights in the ER are like that, having been to this particular ER more times than I want to recount, for other family members). The ER doctor called to follow up as she realized I hadn't received a RhoGAM shot, and that allowed me to get it (with the help of the amazing OB nurse at my doctor's office) within the 72-hour window.
  • To my therapist, who is very wise and caring. I can tell he's trying to let me know that the gate to my bunny hutch is in fact open, and I can hop out on my own at any time. (I don't think he sees me as a bunny, unless it's a trained-killer attack bunny with an off-the-scale bunny intelligence -- I'm just sticking with the bunny metaphor this morning.) I have this barely contained very stupid fear that the whole purpose of therapy is to make me lose weight and that if I stop before I have lost weight, it will be seen by me and by my therapist as a complete failure. He has assured me, on more than one occasion, that he doesn't think that's why I'm in therapy with him at this time. That's not what we're working on. He doesn't care what I weigh, that's not what he's interested in measuring. And he's saying -- look, you are fine. You are whole. You can come here if you like, but it's not because you are broken or incomplete. Come and go as you need to. So, the whole "termination" process has been slowed a bit by the miscarriage, but he's still on track to have me on my way -- without weight loss being part of the equation.
  • The people I work with have demonstrated amazing compassion. I don't know how else to state that. If I were writing a pamphlet on "How to help a coworker who is having a miscarriage" it would basically just outline how they have behaved. Give space. Keep your comments short. Offer hugs, if that feels right. Understand it's going to take time. Flowers are nice if the person likes that sort of thing. Cards. Asking how things are without probing. This is a group that is above average in sensitivity and understanding (and intelligence and looks, of course, too).

  
  There are of course shout-outs due to my sisters, my parents, Mr. Rounded and little human, and many, many friends nearby and far away. And to you, dear readers, who have kept this space open for me, and reached out to me through comments to let me know I'm not alone, whether you've been through something similar or not.
  
  

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