Still a little too woozy to do a full-blown post, so here's some little snippets of my week, and I'll try to expound further about them later if anyone wishes.
-Refusing to admit to myself that I was really and truly going to throw up until it was too late to get a bucket, and puking all over the bathroom rug and my own bare feet.
-Having the same irritating nurse that I had two years ago with Addy, the one who is incapable of finding fetal heartbeats on the monitor and took literally an hour to get me registered in the hospital's computer, and who cannot do IV's to save her life and sent my blood spurting all over the room. To a patient who was dying to get the IV going and get some drugs into her bloodstream, this lady appeared to move almost in slow motion. I wanted to strangle her.
-Having this same nurse extract a urine sample from me via catheter, and ask me repeatedly if I were allergic to the antiseptic she was applying to my girly bits, since I seemed "so squirmy." "Does it burn? Are you hurting down there?" she demanded. No, Nurse Ratchett, but you're slapping that stuff on like you're rubbing marinade into a chicken. One doesn't have to be sore down there to have sensitive nerve endings.
-Having some sort of vomiting and/or fainting incident every single time I have attempted to shower since last Sunday. The first bath, given to me on Tuesday night by my mother, I shook like a leaf from the effort of sitting up, and then promptly threw up as soon as I got out. Second time was a little better, but I got overconfident, tried to brush my own hair, and then nearly passed out. I sat on the toilet seat, seeing nothing but black and white spots, my face ashen, insisting to my mother that I was actually dying now. "Just look at me and breathe," she kept urging, and I would say in a tiny, high voice, "But I can't SEE you! I can't see; I'm going blind!" Third time was a lot better; I only got woozy and lightheaded at the very end, and promptly climbed out of the shower, still sudsy and dripping wet, and collapsed on the floor onto a towel.
-Being wheeled into the doctor's office for my appointment on Thursday, still unable to walk unassisted and feeling barely human, only to be greeted by an office which had been without power most of the day and had no air conditioning. It helps a lot, when one is feeling nauseous and dizzy, to have to sit in a ninety degree exam room.
-Throwing up macaroni and cheese at two in the morning. I don't think I will be craving that particular dish for a long, long time.
-Seeing what my legs look like when they have gone a full week without shaving. *repressing shudder*
-Having a frail old woman in the lobby of the medical complex accost me the minute I got in the door Monday morning to demand, "Did you see the news this morning?" "Um, no," I managed, swaying dizzily. She grasped me urgently. "They said don't eat fish! If you're pregnant, you're not supposed to eat FISH now, who knew?! Stay away from the fish, okay?" I mean, she literally was telling me this with the intensity I would expect from someone telling me to flee the building because it was set to explode in five minutes. I tried to focus on her face, which was swimming wildly in front of me. "I promise! No fish!"
-Reading all of your kind, kind comments and feeling very grateful. Also wondering if I can still take Swistle up on the cookie offer even though I did not end up getting a shot. Because lo and behold, I AM recovering, slowly but surely. The first four days were pure hell, but on the fifth morning I did feel ever so slightly better, and have been feeling better-ish every day since then. No magical overnight cure as I was wishing for, but I am now able to walk without help, as long as I have a wall or piece of furniture there to grab, and I am not barfing. Now I just have to try and NOT HAVE THIS BABY until I am all the way better!