I couldn’t take it anymore so I had to do it. I wanted to -- HAD to -- go work today (Wooh! Who’d have thought I’d ever say that?). The whole sick-pregnant-lady-in-bed-who-can’t-even-climb-a-flight-of-stairs-without-getting-a-hypertension-attack thing was getting stale. I figured I ought to just deafen my ears to my doctor’s advice (just a wee bit) and to opt for keeping my mental health.
Seven weeks on your back can drive anyone crazy, now I know. So the next time I feel the urge to make that unqualified wish for a long leave from work, I remember this episode and be very, very specific (should include words like “beach”, “shopping”, "travelling" and “goofing off” somewhere in the text). In 7 weeks, the “productive” things I’ve managed to do include making a mold of myself on our bed (very useful if I ever want a mannequin of myself done someday) and losing 15 pounds (this doesn’t exactly make my doctors happy but it sure keeps my post-natal slimming prospects bright).
Work today was okay –- thank god. I’ve done a good deal of catching up. Well-wishers have been plentiful and those who would otherwise fuel my temper have graciously stayed out of my way. Feels like I might do this again next week.
(Seriously though, friends, I am still watching myself and taking things easy. I have to -- if anything happens to me and/or the baby, my husband will kill me -- literally, I wager.)
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Yup, spent a couple of days there to check out the view ... and to manage my blood pressure which shot up to 170/110.
My husband brought me to the emergency room because I was throwing up like crazy and my headache was making me cry -- kinda like the last time I had a pitcher of screwdriver. The emergency room doctors then had me brought up to the delivery room so the OB-Gyne specialist can monitor my situation better. I know these guys meant well -- but when you're three months pregnant and they're wheeling you into the delivery room, it is not exactly the formula for calming down.
And call me ancient, but there is something sick not right about men who specialize in OB-Gynecology. Being poked by a bunch of male interns, just so they could "practice" how to do an "internal exam" is suspiciously criminal to me. I had to shoo away several who wanted a go -- so I could wallow in my hypertension in peace.
Of late, I am also a veteran of several transvaginal ultrasound procedures. I know it necessary for checking on my baby and all -- but it's as close as I can get to be raped by a frisky broom handle <<<. Truly.
Doctors have asked me to go on indefinite leave from work, until my delivery or until my blood pressure stabilizes. I will, most likely not go on-line during that time. Time to take up needlepoint?
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