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| Putting on a brave face |
My Diary entry for 25/5/07 is thus:
Booked in for a doctor's appointment on Tuesday at 9am. I am not a happy chicky, with a bit of an intestinal tummy bug that had me cramping in pain tonight. My stools are loose.
( I think I knew the writing was on the wall about losing the baby, but judging from that sentence, I just wasn't ready to face it yet).
Booked in at Lee Point Resort for a week. May stay longer depending on my medical treatment.
Very hot and humid - stifling, in fact.
Bring on the dry season - where is it?
Mosquitoes and sandflies are giving me a hammering too.
We have got a good pool here - the kids love it.
There is a huge shopping centre here at Casuarina. There are masses of shops - about a dozen just doing mobile phones!
The following day I recorded that I had started to just drink clear fluids in an effort to try and let the bug run its course. Unfortunately by the day after that I had started to bleed -oh dear.
By the 28th I recorded that the bleeding had increased, though there was no pain.
We went to the World War II tunnels, I found it interesting but claustrophobic. By the end I had a distinct pain in the left hand side of my abdomen.
The 29th was Tuesday and the day of my doctor's appointment. I noted that I was still bleeding and it was heavier.
The doctor sent me off for blood tests to check pregnancy hormone levels. I distinctly remember the unease with which the doctor met my proclamation that I thought I was miscarrying. I was in tears and barely holding it together, she looked at me as if I was a leper. I don't think that doctors get very good training in dealing with these highly emotional situations. They resort to professional practicalities of ordering tests and vague advice about fluids and rest. But the whole thing makes them extremely uncomfortable, where as probably the most useful skill they could employ at a time like this would be compassion and empathy. I would hate to see the reaction of the doctor who has to deliver the news that I am going to die. That must be extremely difficult.
I remember sitting in the doctor's office feeling alone and isolated, like I was an oddity at a freak show, admitting that I was miscarrying. She looked at me like I was strange and she looked very uncomfortable. I would have thought a fellow female would have been more empathetic, but to her it was routine, follow the book, order the tests and move the patient on out.
So this was it, there was no stopping it. There was a sense that the cat was out of the bag and now I just had to follow it through to its grizzly end. Steve managed to book me a cabin at the resort which gave me a break from the humidity. I was able to lay in a comfortable bed in air conditioning and rest.
Unfortunately I started to experience pretty constant period pains all day and night. My bowels, however seemed to have returned to normal. I remember weeping the night away, knowing that I was losing my baby and there was absolutely nothing that I could do to stop it. While in the cabin I was watching TV and the ABC had a show on called the Choir of Hard Knocks. It was about some teenagers from difficult backgrounds who were formed into a choir and eventually performed. The song that they were learning was Hallelujah. They sang it over and over and it made me cry over and over. Now that song has very strong and sad memories for me, it always brings a tear to my eye.
On the 30th I had another blood test to check if pregnancy hormones were rising or falling compared to yesterday's levels. The levels were falling! I had an ultrasound which showed that there was nothing there. Or as the medical profession callously call it, there was no product there. Product. Hmmm to me it was a baby, not product. Again, they just seem completely incapable of being even slightly empathetic at this very emotionally painful time.
I wrote in my diary: I am still bleeding like mad. (No solids yet). It is all very conclusive that our baby has miscarried.
On the 31st I wrote: A big chunk was expelled this morning. Bleeding is till heavy. I am wondering why that chunk did show up on the ultrasound. Maybe it had already left the uterus. or maybe the ultrasounds aren't so good after all. Period pains have eased, hopefully bleeding will too!
....Bought mobile phone with Optus today and some books to read.
Went to fish feeding @ Aquascene. Harry loved dumping loads of bread into the water. Wild fish came in @ high tide expecting to be fed.
Went to see Mindil Markets - very busy! Ate dinner there, lots of food stalls. Some interesting music to listen to, but all in all just another market. Quite tired by the time I got home.
Another chunk expelled. Interesting I couldn't make out a baby shape. Still bleeding heaps.
Whilst all this drama was going on there was more drama of a different nature happening in the background. But that is a topic for the next blog......
Meanwhile, Evan's diary entry was as follows:
Darwin
At Darwin we're staying at Lee point reserve and everybody else is staying there too.
The pool is nice.
And the Darwin library is good because you can become temperairy (sic) members and borrow books while you are staying. And they have playstaitoin (sic) games that you can play.
Oil Tunnels
At the oil tunnels you got a bit of the idea of how they were built and what they're used for.
And then you get a look in the tunnels.
The tunnels are dark, damp and the floor is covered with a thin layer of water.
I liked the oil tunnels.
Fish Feeding
At the Darwin fish feeding they let you have lots of bread from the bucket and throw them in the water so that the fish could eat it.
The lady at the front told [us] which fish were which.
And there was a photo taking platform.
Fish feeding was great!
