Yesterday was a Day

My head is throbbing, I feel the migraine starting to build behind my eyes, threatening to pull me into a cloud of unending pain. Sleep would help. Relieving the stress would help even more, but there is so much going on that’s a pipe dream. Eventually, my body will demand I stop. If things don’t change, the headache will win. I’m hoping that won’t happen until the weekend.

 

What could be causing so much stress, you wonder? Yesterday. Yesterday was a day.

 

The morning started out sort of regular, only I had to get up a few minutes earlier to be sure we were out the door in time to get Chica Marie to school by 8. It was her first full day of kindergarten. Primero had to leave early to walk to work and so I was left alone to deal with Love Bug’s morning melt-down. When he realizes it is time to go he gets very upset and howls until I hold him, which isn’t always feasible. Yesterday, he was particularly whiney, wanting me to hold him pretty much the whole morning, following me around the house yelling “up!” It makes getting ready quite an arduous task because I have to keep stopping and trying to get Love Bug to calm down.

 

We left the house a little before 8 and drove the three blocks to school, parked and found the mobile therapist. I was confused as to where the drop off point was, but we found it relatively easily. Love Bug waited patiently, holding his sister’s hand. I have the most adorable picture of them walking down the sidewalk in front of the school. We waited for roughly 10 minutes before the special ed autism support teacher came to collect Chica Marie. She confirmed the name of the daycare picking her up and I told Love Bug it was time to go. He refused to let go of his sister’s hand, screaming as I lifted him to my shoulder and walked back to the car. I drove Love Bug to daycare and arrived at work a few minutes late.

 

Work was hectic, but not too crazy. I was missing a webinar training due to a medical appointment and had to arrange to attend the second session this morning. The friend I usually take lunch with is leaving, she found a new job, so I was listening to her chat about the crazy things her team was doing. It hasn’t been a good situation for her for quite some time. Not long after lunch, I had to leave for my appointment. Before I could leave, I noticed a text from Primero. His sister, Esperanza, was in distress and thought she might need to go to the hospital. Primero called me and I suggested if it were a pressing emergency, she should call 911. I explained that I could not take her to the ER because I was headed to an appointment. But, first I needed to get gas in the car, making me rush to get to the doctor’s office on time.

 

I arrived just on time to the doctor’s office. I wasn’t looking forward to the procedure, a biopsy sounded intimidating to me, but I had already endured a saline ultrasound and it wasn’t so bad. I barely had enough time to text Primero to see if Esperanza was ok and had found a ride to the ER, when I was called back to the room. The nurse was cordial and business-like. She took my vitals and miss-read my weight declaring I lost a lot of weight since my visit last month. I wish! But, sadly no. Now I was self-conscious and feeling particularly large. She explained I should void my bladder and disrobe from the waist down and wait for Shelly, whoever that was.

 

I did as I was asked and soon Shelly came in to perform the ultrasound with the magic wand. I stared at grainy image of my still empty uterus as she wiggled the wand around to see all the non-working parts. After saving images of my uterus and ovaries, she left to get the doctor. For several long moments I laid on the table with my feet in the stirrups. The ultrasound tech had turned off the over-head lights so the room was lit by a small light over the sink and the screen of the ultrasound machine still displaying black and white pictures of my sad uterus. I had been doing fine, I hadn’t given it much thought, but the sight of the machine brought back the memories of my previous experience with an ultrasound and I felt tears stinging my eyes. I wiped them away furiously, but they would not stop trickling down my cheeks. I took several deep breaths and forced myself to think about my three kids and anything else that would stop the painful memories. After breathing myself into a near catatonic state, I sat up and waited for the doctor, grateful he wasn’t in a hurry.

 

Soon Shelly came back with the doctor and the nurse (her name was Kelly – I’m not making this up). He asked why I was there and I explained my request to my nurse midwife for help with heavy periods. She said I would need this procedure to make sure there were no issues, like fibroids, causing my heavy flow. He began describing the procedure and I explained I had done it before. He asked if I had any children and I responded no. He asked if I wanted children and the floodgates opened. I could not keep the tears in check and my throat burned with the effort to keep my voice normal. When I responded that I had wanted children, he asked about a partner and I squeaked out, “No, I don’t have one.”  I felt pathetic for getting emotional. The doctor handed me a tissue and I assumed the position for the games to begin. The saline catheter was as I remembered it – not painful, more annoying. I felt some pressure, mostly on my bladder, and some cramps so mild if I hadn’t been paying attention I would have missed them. Next came the biopsy. I feared the cramping would be more intense, but it was still only slight and nothing compared to my period cramps. The doctor cleaned me off a bit then told me to sit up. He flipped the lights back on and asked me to come see him in his office.   

 

I waited for the nurse to pass some pads into me, then got redressed. I opened the door to the procedure room and was met with the sympathetic faces of both Shelly and Kelly. Their faces read that they felt sorry for me and I swallowed down more tears as I walked the gauntlet of pity to the doctor’s office. The nurse closed the door behind me as the doctor invited me to have a seat. First, he wanted to know why I made a face when he asked me about a partner. Omg, he thought I was a battered woman! No! And listen, not that I don’t appreciate the concern and I certainly hope if I were a battered woman and needed help that I could find help, but a gynecologist I just met is not the person I would be telling this type of thing to. I responded that I was divorced, thus ending that line of questioning. He then suggested I try Mirena for my heavy periods because it helps a great deal. He said he would call me in a few days with my lab results and gave me literature on the IUD before ushering me on my way.

 

I stood waiting to check out for an excruciatingly long time, breathing shallowly so as not to begin bawling right then and there. Finally, I was able to escape to my car where the hot tears could no longer be staved off. I ugly cried as I drove aimlessly around the neighborhood I didn’t know. Eventually, I found my way home and sobbed piteously while cleaning myself up from that gross ultrasound goop. The memories of past pain, triggered by a familiar procedure and the multitude of questions regarding my lack of ovulation and unsuccessful attempts to get pregnant, overwhelmed me. I cried for those memories.

 

But, I was also frustrated. When I had spoken to my nurse midwife last month, I told her I didn’t want to be on birth control, yet the doctor gave me the choice of birth control or birth control to help with my heavy periods. The literature he gave me did not help, since Mirena was touted for the “busy mom” who can’t be bothered to remember to take the pill. I guess it’s stupid, since it’s not likely I will find myself pregnant for many reasons, one being I’m single. But, I am so totally opposed to any form of contraceptive on the off chance that I do meet someone. I explained to my mom, who I called to discuss what non-birth control options there might be for me, if I meet someone and things work out, I don’t want to have to make a conscious effort to decide to get pregnant or not. If I have an IUD, I would have to make an appointment to have it taken out and that’s an awful lot like saying we are trying. I guess it’s stupid, but making it a happy accident is really the only way I could do it.

 

So, it seems to me like my only options are birth control pills, which I hate I how I feel on them, or an IUD, which may or may not be something my body adjusts to. Many moons ago I had tried to skip my period using the pill. I knew, since my mom works in the field, it could take a few months to achieve total period elimination. For six months I took the pill and not the placebo. For six months I spotted, never once achieving a lapse in my period. My mom worries my body would respond similarly to an IUD, which does help with the heavy flow issue, but certainly isn’t a trade I’d want to make. It feels hopeless. I promised my mom I would talk to my nurse midwife after getting the biopsy results. I don’t have much hope I will find any help, so I’m going to research herbal options and alternative medicine techniques, like acupuncture or chiropractic solutions.

 

After I cleaned myself up, dried my tears, I had to get back to reality. I text Primero that I would pick him up at school and we would then pick up the little ones. We grabbed dinner on our way home and I cleaned up a little in preparation for the CHOR case worker visiting. On our ride home, Primero announced that Hermano’s girlfriend was going to be induced that very afternoon and so his nephew would be here very soon.

 

I washed a sink full of dishes before the case worker was expected to arrive around 5. I sat down, thinking she would be there any minute. As time ticked by and it was after 5:30, I began to wonder if I had made a mistake on the day or time. I checked my email and re-read our exchange, knowing I was right she said Tuesday around 5. As I was about to check my phone for any messages, I saw her walking up to our porch. She had called me and left a message stating she was running late. By this point it was nearly 6 pm. I was so glad the kids had eaten dinner already! We sat down to talk so I could relay all of the information regarding Chica Marie, her therapy, the county case worker’s visit, and the issues with her education. It was a lot to talk about! She didn’t leave until 7 pm.

 

We needed to run out for a few things. Primero needed an exacto knife for his art project and the dogs needed dog food. As we were on our way to the store, Esperanza called and asked for a ride home from the hospital. We were driving right past the hospital, so we picked her and her cousin up and took them along with us. The teenagers walked around on their own as I gathered the things we needed with two squabbling little kids. I had wanted Chica Marie to be in bed early, but that wasn’t happening. We drove the girls home, then dashed back to our place so I could give the kids a bath and get them to bed.

 

The baby was born around 4:30 this morning and it was the first thing I saw when I woke up and checked my phone. Primero is excited about being an uncle and he was also asked to be the godfather. I bought a cute onsie and a Halloween outfit for the baby when we were at Wal-mart. Hermano said they are trying to come to town to visit with everyone, but if they don’t make it, we will most likely go visit them.

 

Days like yesterday zap my energy. I felt emotionally chewed up from all that was happening. I feel pathetic for losing it in the doctor’s office. I feel so many, many things about teenagers having a baby. I feel exasperated at the issues hindering Chica Marie’s educational experience. I feel conflicted about the scenario with Esperanza. I feel exhausted, worn out, used up, totally spent. Is it any wonder a migraine is imminent?