How are you doing? I hope that you are well. As for me, I am hanging in there and looking at the positive side of things despite all the horribleness that has happened recently. Some of you may have noticed, and many of you probably didn't (that's okay, btw), but I have been absent from deviantART since sometime around the end of February / beginning of March. I'm going to try to sum up what's been going on the best I can.
So around the time I became absent was because I had started feeling burned out after the string of commissions that I had done. I had also started feeling really sickly and extremely depressed. Normally when I get depressed I can snap back out of my depression in about a week, but a week passed then two weeks and then a month and then two months, etc. I knew something was wrong and I couldn't put my finger on it. My emotions were completely out of whack and I felt like complete crap all the time.
Around the end of April / beginning of May, I started spotting which isn't normal for me. For those that don't know what spotting is, it is when a woman has a "tiny" period of sorts with not a lot of blood. I am extremely irregular and only have 2-3 periods a year. When I do have a period, there is a flood of blood and it is an absolutely horrendous experience. I spoke to my husband and we decided I should do a pregnancy test.
On May 3rd after a stick test and going to the doctor, I found out that I was pregnant. My husband and I were so excited and happy we didn't know what to do with ourselves. We've been wanting a baby, and finally one was on the way. However, because of my irregularity with my cycles they could not be used to determine how far along my pregnancy was. I was scheduled for my first ultrasound on May 12th.
May 12th, I had my ultrasound nervously. Something had been feeling off. I don't know. I guess it was just my intuition, and I hate it when I'm right. They couldn't find a baby, and yet my pregnancy hormones were present and rising. They did more blood tests on me, and the next day they called me and told me I needed to have a D&C procedure to remove the pregnancy tissue. They told me I had one of the following issues:
1. Partial Miscarriage
2. Molar Pregnancy
3. Ectopic Pregnancy
Either way, I was scheduled for more blood tests and the minor out-patient surgery on May 14th. My husband and I were heartbroken and devastated that this was happening. It happens to a lot of couples, but it doesn't make it any less painful to deal with.
When I went in for the procedure everything was like a whirlwind of questions. The people at the hospital I'd been transferred to for the procedure started throwing questions at us about why we were having the procedure, and we told them about how we were supposed to have blood work done beforehand, and one of the nurses felt the procedure we were having was unnecessary because maybe I just wasn't as far along as thought. Not wanting to lose a baby, my husband and I held our breath for more tests and hoped for the best. Before we'd even gotten the tests results back, some people tried to force me into the surgery, but we refused because that is not what we were told originally, and we didn't want to just end my pregnancy if there was a baby. It was very angering and insulting. It was almost like they were trying to do assembly line work, and I didn't matter. Eventually the surgeon sent one of her assistants to tell me that my blood work stated I needed to have the procedure because the pregnancy wasn't viable. They also stated that they were sure it wasn't an ectopic pregnancy or a molar pregnancy, and that I had an unfinished miscarriage. Heartbroken, I had the procedure and afterwards they repeated once again that it seemed it was a miscarriage, but we'd know more in a week after they studied what was removed from me. They asked me to come in the next day for bloodwork, and told me that because it wasn't an ectopic pregnancy there was no reason for me to have the preventative shot. That day I felt ill and bled like I was having a normal cycle as they told me I would.
The next day, Friday, I felt too sick with sadness to go into the doctor for more bloodwork. My husband called the doctor and they said it would be okay for me to come in on Monday. I was still bleeding a little bit, but it was less than the day before.
Saturday, I only had one drop of blood and no more. My husband decided we needed to have a good day to cheer us up, so we went out on the town and had a good time with lots of laughter, crying, and loving one another.
Saturday night, I felt a sharp pain in my lower abdomen and things started to go down hill from there. During the night my stomach progressively hurt worse, and I became bloated. I was dizzy, nauseous, and constipated. My husband and I assumed that I had caught a stomach bug because my father whom we'd seen very recently had a 24 hour stomach virus that caused him to feel the exact same way. At one point I felt such intense pain that as I ran to the bathroom from my bedroom I stumbled and then blacked out. The only thing I heard was my husband yelling my name, and when I came to I was laying on the floor wrapped in a blanket with my head on a pillow. I decided I wanted to go to the bathroom and have a shower to see if it would help me feel better, and I wanted to move while the pain was tame. I was looking forward to the 24 hour period ending. I hadn't been sick like this since I was in high school. I got in the shower, and my stomach hurt so much that I just laid down and ran the warm shower water on my stomach. It felt so good, and I fell asleep with the water running on me. Unfortunately, now I was unable to get out of the tub.
Saturday turned into Sunday, and I knew it was going to be a long day. I threw up on myself several times while lying in the tub. I couldn't get comfortable, and if someone tried to move me I would cry out in pain. My husband called my parents to come, and everyone took turns watching over me. I couldn't eat or drink. When it came to liquids I was lucky they got me to get two sips of water. I think I had exactly 8oz of liquid maybe that entire day and no food. They would force me to take tylenol. My husband spoke with nurses on the phone, and they told him to give me ibuprofen along with the tylenol. To ease my nausea since I was only puking up the water and stomach bile, my mother would hold alcohol swabs under my nose until I could fall asleep. They would alternate between running warm water on me until it got cold, and then they would dry me off and wrap me in pillows and blankets since they couldn't get me out of the tub. The closest they could get me to do was sit up, but as soon as I would try to stand I would black out into unconsciousness and fall. This cycle continued until nightfall, and we were sure I'd feel better in the morning. My husband made himself a bed on the bathroom floor next to me, and my parents went home.
Sunday turned into Monday and during the earliest hours of the morning it became clear that I wasn't recovering, and that I was getting worse. My husband knew he needed to get me to the hospital, but he couldn't get me out of the bath tub on his own and even if he could I would pass out before he could get me to the car. I told him to stop trying to play superman and call the paramedics, so he did. They arrived shortly, and were extremely concerned upon seeing me. I hadn't seen myself, but according to them my skin was mottled, and when they started checking my vitals they were not good at all. I didn't understand everything that they said, but I did hear tachycardia and that my breathing was making up for the rest of my vitals to keep me alive. Before they would even attempt to move me they pumped with with two units of fluid because I was severely dehydrated, and then they hooked me up to a pain killer and called for back up to get me on a stretcher. Our home is shaped strangely, and there wasn't an easy way to remove me. With the pain medicine one man was able to get me to my feet while standing behind me, and before I passed out they were able to grab my legs and lift me from the tub. I barely remember being twisted and turned to be removed from the bathroom and our hallway before I was laid on a flexible stretcher, lifted by six men, and taken outside to the gurney. They carried me up the hill, to the ambulance, and then they decided to take me to the hospital that was 10 minutes away instead of taking me to the one that did my procedure. They told us we were being optimistic if we thought the D&C procedure had nothing to do with what I was going through.
We got to the emergency room and I heard them say I was bleeding internally. I heard I looked like a corpse. I heard I was going to need blood transfusions and surgery. It all happened so fast. I remember my husband standing over me and crying. I remember the doctor being angry because he couldn't get up with any of the people at the hospital that did my procedure. I remember having an ultrasound that they wouldn't let me look at. I remember lots of pain medicine that made me light headed. I remember the doctor coming in and saying I had an ectopic pregnancy and that my right fallopian tube had burst. They said I'd lost half of my body's blood content. Surgery needed to happen immediately. I remember people holding my hand and telling me it was going to be okay, but looking afraid and sad. Strangers and family. I was given two units of blood before surgery and one unit of blood during surgery.
After surgery my recovery was only supposed to take one hour, but it took four hours before I was released to a room and able to see my family. I had had a panic attack immediately upon leaving surgery and waking up. I remember being unable to breath and trying to remove my breathing mask before being knocked unconscious. When I was finally reunited with everyone all I could think was that I was so happy to be alive, and I just wanted to love everyone I saw. I slept a lot when I wasn't having my blood drawn or my vitals checked which felt like they were doing every hour on the hour. I had wires everywhere and three IV lines - one in each arm and one in my neck, and I wasn't even able to go to the bathroom on my own. My stomach still hurt and I found that I three incisions on my stomach where they performed laparoscopic surgery on me to drain the blood off my stomach and remove my right fallopian tube.The end of Monday was spent in relief and making sure I started to recover after my procedure. They were kind enough to give my husband a cot to sleep on in my room.
Tuesday I felt significantly better, but the doctor told me I still couldn't leave because my blood count and other vitals still were not as they should be despite how much better I felt. I had to have two more units of blood given to me bringing the total to five. Just for reference they told us that the human body holds only 8-10 units of blood. I had lost a lot of blood, and I had to stay another night to make sure I was in the clear and the bleeding had stopped completely. I was determined to get better and get out as soon as possible, though, so if they would let me do it I would. Starting with eating. At first I could only eat jello, but I managed to upgrade myself to proper soup before the night was out. I was so proud of myself. I had decided early on that I wasn't going to let this defeat me, but then again I'm a very stubborn individual.
Wednesday finally rolled around, and Wednesday was the day that they told me I could go home. I was so happy. You just don't understand how happy I was. Finally the wires were being removed, and finally I could start going to an actual bathroom, and I could get a shower. I still had to have help walking around, but I was moving. I even started eating more solid food. Granted that meant mashed potatoes and more soups, but my appetite was growing. At 6pm that evening they finally released me.
I've had a lot of visitors and gifts since I've come home, and lots of gifts. I'm supposed to be on six weeks of recovery rest. It's already been hard for me to just sit back and do nothing. I take my meds, and do light cleaning since I am permitted to walk around and I can do stuff as long as I don't lift anything weighing more than 10lbs. Every time I look at my husband I am so thankful that I am alive and can be with him for more time. I am heart broken that I lost the baby, but I have my life and we can try again. We are, however, quite angry at the clinic that told us I wasn't ectopic and didn't need the shot. That shot could have stopped all of this. It's frustrating, but at the same time part of me is glad that I went through this eye opening experience.
And that's what has been going on with me. I'm going to be okay, and once I reach a point where I'm not always falling asleep because of my medication I do hope to open up art commissions once more and start drawing again. I've missed all of you, and I hope you're doing well. Thanks to everyone who has stuck around even in my unexplained absence. You're awesome!
Love always and forever,
Destinie aka Venus