I haven't completely disappeared, and I have been keeping up with you folks, as I'm able. I'm sitting on the floor of the living room, typing on C's computer as the room brightens through the east facing windows.
Wanted to share that I have a conference call with a doctor in Chi.cago, the one who put in my sister's cerc.lage and is supposed to be a real mensch. We were supposed to talk yesterday, but he had an emergency so we rescheduled. It surprised me how disappointed I was. Frustrated and petulant, since I had built my day around this one hour span of time, where, hopefully, I might get an answer or two, or, at the very least a kind word from a knowledgeable doctor.
So we are rescheduled with Dr. Mensch for 10am today. I am not looking forward to it in the same way I was yesterday, and really that's my fault. I pulled out the 2 1/2" binder of medical records from the 10 days of nightmare and started googling. I don't know what on earth I was thinking. This doctor, Dr. Mensch specializes in the trans.abdomi.nal cerclage and IC. And, apparently, PPROM can be caused by IC. Who knew? I've been researching for almost a year and a half, and never saw a word about this.
But then I looked up collapsed cranial sutures, because that's what the ultrasound said Joshua had when we were first admitted to the local hospital. I had heard that it was a result of brain death in a fetus, but what else? Apparently, the fetus is usually dead 2 days or more when this happens. 2 days or more. How long was he dead? What did my doctors miss? What did I miss? So what caused the death? Not IC, even I know that. Was it the shots I missed? just the severity of my "hypercoagulation disorder"? Was I leaking without knowing it for so long he suffocated?
I know, I know, don't torture myself. But all I can think is that my body was trying to deliver Joshua, and Jacob was lost in the process.
And it was all my fault.
Minor breakdown (haven't had one like that in a while) before doggie training last night, but luckily Stella was relatively cooperative, or maybe it was just the Klon.opin and golden Or.eos I had for dinner on the way.
Part of me feels like this call is a waste of time, because I'm pretty sure I don't have IC, though I do have other questions for Dr. M., things like insight into what might have happened, what are the chances of it happening again (as much as I hate them in this domain, I can't resist) and if I were his patient, what kind of protocol would he follow to try to ensure that I actually get a live baby out of this.
Supposedly, this man is second only to Je.sus in his brilliance and saintliness (does that make any sense? I'm just a bad Jew, please forgive me if this offends), so I assume he'll be kind, but, unlike yesterday, I don't have a lot of confidence that I"ll be able to keep it together. Luckily it's a conference call, and C can pick up where I drift off sobbing. Isn't hyperbole fun? What's hyperbole?
I'll take my morning meds, and drink my iced coffee and pet Stella, who has her head leaning slightly against my leg, and I'll man up. I have an hour and a half to get it together. Then another two hours to get to class. Luckily I'm not the one lecturing.
I'll keep you posted, and thank you for hanging in there with me.