Day 30: I promised…

Okay, at first, I promised myself I would do NaBloPoMo even if it killed me.

Obviously it didn’t kill me. But I didn’t do it.

And then, last week, I promised myself I would post once, or twice to make up for the whole non-posting thing.

And I broke that promise too.

It’s not like I don’t have anything to say. I could tell you the four wonderful things about my job… and the four terrible things about my job. I could tell you that we may have a donor on hand. I could tell you that I’m so excited about my birthday this Sunday I can hardly keep a smile off my face. I have a lot of things to talk about. Tofurkey day, our new phones, our slow redecorating process, the excitement of February. I really like typing out the word February.

And I guess I will talk about those things. It’s very hard to find myself motivated to blog lately. I feel like we’ve been in TTC limbo for so long, that this blog barely applies to the community I’ve foisted myself upon. I feel surrounded, loved and understood, but I don’t feel like I belong. Most everyone on my blogroll has done the deed and is looking towards #2 or #3. Fil and I are just getting excited and talking more and planning even more (how is that possible when I have a plan tab?!) and it’s starting to seem tangible and real. Maybe it’s this possible-donor. He’s a friend of WonderSperm, our amazing KD who got HIV. The poor guy feels guilty that he can’t donate, and has scoured his friends for a good match. Someone he likes. It kind of hurts the heart. WonderSperm has Fil’s hair, and eyes like mine, and a jawline like McDreamy out of Grey’s Anatomy. The man is gorgeous, and kind, and a beautiful soul and I would have loved to use his DNA, again. So maybe what happened with WonderSperm is holding me back from blogging about this possible YAY! When me 2 years ago would have been all up on this shiz.

And Tofurkey Day was great. We had a big family one at my parents’ house and a small one with my best friend at home. We didn’t weasle out of making a feast, but the tofurkey we did on Saturday was so good it was so worth it all. I can’t say we have much to be thankful for (since we’re still poor and Fil is still sick) but we’re happy that Fil’s tumours seem to be responding to the radiation and that I have a good paying job with benefits.

Speaking of my job.

Here are the 4 good things.

1. The hours. They’re perfect. Even though I get stuck in the worst of the traffic, it gives me time to think things over, listen to music, and relax away from work and home. I do get stressed, but I tell myself to relax. It’s my only ‘me’ time and I cherish it.
2. The people. I have great friends here. The receptionist is marvelous, and everyone is incredibly friendly. I’m close with the people downstairs, and I like to park my butt for a few minutes during my mail run and chat with them. I can count on a good laugh at least twice during my run.
3. The pay. I can gush on and on about the pay because it is so good. I know I don’t make as much as much as most, but it pays the bills and takes care of Christmas. As far as I’m concerned, that is damn good. Also, the overtime pay is great and I get mileage, a big tax free bonus.
4. Benefits. It’s weird to be getting benefits from my job. It feels so grown up. My first job I was part time, but it didn’t matter because I worked with my dad and was already on that insurance as a dependent. Then, as a receptionist, I could have gotten insurance but it was contingent upon being able to get steady employment, and at a temp agency that’s almost impossible. So, having gotten my 3 months under my belt, I’m ready to receive my benefits. From the looks of it, it’s 90-10 with a $750 deductable. It pays for a lot of stuff my dad’s insurance doesn’t cover. Like artificial insemination. 100% coverage of all treatment after a $30 specialist fee. Yeah.

The 4 things I hate about my job.

1. My boss. I said it, my BOSS. If Dooce has taught us anything, it’s not to disclose work crap on the net. But I’ll let that go, because I tell everyone with an operating ear. I hate my boss.
2. The location. It’s a nice area, and I’d love to live here in the future, but it’s far away from my current home and I don’t know if we can afford to move near by. Nor do I know if we’d want to be near by, since my parents are close.
3. The building. It’s gross, smelly and old. The management company takes very poor care of the place and I have to run to the first floor to use the facilities. Also, the elevators have been broken so many times most people are too scared to take them!
4. I feel like I’m not good enough. Like nothing is ever good enough for my boss, she always finds something to pull apart, and when I do amazingly well, there’s always a ‘but’. Maybe I’m just sensitive, but some days I just want to cry from all the pressure to be good. I know, I know. Welcome to adulthood.

So, there you have it. My job. It rocks, it sucks. That’s life. The best thing is the benefits. I feel like my TTC limbo visit is all but over. We just need the sperm and a new place and soon we’ll be staring at OPKs, trying to figure out if that’s really a line or the angle of the light hitting the stick off the mirror.

Congrats to all of you who finised NaBloPoMo. You are better than I, this time.

Day 6: OMG

Yeah, I had to do that, because this is an OMG kind of post.

Fil’s been receiving radiation for the past two weeks, every Tuesday. And yesterday? Her doctor called with her latest MRI results:

The tumor on her kidney? SHRANK. BY 1 MM YOU GUYS.

I know it’s not a lot, but her doctor is optimistic and he thinks Medicaid will now pay for full treatments and he’s got an oncologist willing to help.

Y’all…

This could mean that Fil gets better. That Fil goes to work. That.. OMG. My brain can’t handle it. I’ll just leave you with a song.

Song of the Day: Perfect Fingers – Tami Greer

In honour of my Fil, who is perfect, and amazing, and everything this old-fashioned lesbian could ever want. I love you, baby. (Also, it was in Better than Chocolate… he’s not a fucking drag queen, yo.)

When there’s not much to say…

I know, I’ve been a pretty bad blogger. It’s not that I haven’t had the time to blog, its’ that I simply haven’t had much to say. Every day I come to work and wonder if I’ll be inspired to write by something I’ve read or whatever. But I just end up drawing blanks. Thanks to Calli, I’ve been inspired to write a few reviews, but that’s just about it.

Now, I have to put this on here, or it’ll seem neglectful.

Fil finally got her oral surgery date. It’s the 15th. Of this month. That’s Wednesday, for those who are keeping count. At 11:30 today she’s having her consult and then AH! her surgery is in two days. Ugh, it makes my stomach flop to think about it.

We’re both nervous as hell, but I’m trying like hell to overcome those nerves with the excitement of knowing Fil is going to be okay, in one area at least.

This also means that the surgery she needs to remove a mass on her kidneys should get approved! Woohoo! And it might speed her placement with a pain management doctor. Even woohoo-ier!

And… well, that’s it for now. More later once I’ve figured out the gnarly details.

A Little Better

Two Fridays ago I had my wisdom teeth removed.

It should have been routine. They should have just popped them out and after 3 days of healing I would be better to pick up my normal life.

But 3 days stretched into today, and is continuing as I type this.

My first problem was before they started the anesthesia. The nurse complimented my hair, following it up with a “is that your natural colour?” to which I answered with a shakey “yes”. She blinked and said “oh”. I didn’t really think much of it until later.

My second problem was as they were removing the final tooth I started to come out of the anesthesia. I could feel/hear everything and tried my best to scream because I could feel them pumping my gums with novicane and what felt and sounded like drilling. My brain screamed but all I managed were moans of discomfort.

My third problem was when I fully came out of it and started crying, immediately, because the pain was unimaginable. I wanted to curl up on Fil’s lap and never open my eyes again. In recovery, I was still crying and mumbling “it hurts” so they gave me some ibuprofen and a pack of ice. The pain medicine that they put in my IV had already fully worn off and I was very aware of the places they had just ripped teeth from.

My dad and Fil got me home pretty quick. Once I was home I immediately fell into bed and lay there crying. That’s where my fourth problem started. I don’t remember much, but I know it hurt bad and the pain medicine wasn’t working. Fil called the doctors office, they authorized a refill of pain meds and told her to start giving my acetametophine on top of two pain meds. I finally fell asleep. Fil woke me up later to have some yogurt (SHE FED ME, THAT IS LOVE), repack the wounds and take medication. I slept until dinner which was one sliver of mushed banana, a few bites of potato salad and the rest of my yogurt from earlier.

My problems doubled over the weekend. The pain kept sky rocketing as if there was no plateau in sight. Saturday night the on-call surgeon told Fil we’d probably have to come in on Sunday to have them pack the surgial site because most likely I lost the blood clot right after surgery or it never even formed in the first place.

This is a good point to say that the probable cause for this is, in fact, my hair colour. From what the nurse told me (really, told my dad and Fil, but I was lucid enough to grasp it) red heads have problems with bleeding and losing their clots, more so than patients with different hair colours. All my life I’ve been quick to bruise knowing it was due to my red hair (it’s been researched!) but having never been under anesthesia or had an operation, I didn’t know how my hair would come into play. Some researchers claim that the mutation in the melanocortain 1 receptor that makes red hair also lends itself to a higher intolerance towards anethesia, pain medication and a higher instance of brusing. The bleeding thing isn’t a proven scientific fact, it’s mostly just an observation the nurses made over the course of operating on red heads versus other hair colours. But, I digress.

So Sunday evening (really, at 5 p.m. the on-call surgeon showed up at the empty office to help me!) I got the two lower holes packed with a dissolvable material that was soaked in clove oil. The clove instantly numbed my entire mouth and soaked into the bone. Relief came 15 minutes later and it was wonderful.

Monday was Monster’s birthday party so I had to suck it up for him. I took my pain medication with me in a baggie and gummed some under cooked breadsticks and tried to focus on how happy Monster looked and how fun it was to play some nonsense games with Fil.

Problems 9-12 developed over the course of the week. First, my pain medication supply was dwindiling and Fil left a message to have them refill my pain medication. That Wednesday (the 18th) I went in to have them re-pack the surgial site with the same nasty clove oil. It helped a little, but not nearly as much as before. What helped was the irrigation, getting all the food that had made its way back there… even if the doctor was a bit rough and made the exposed nerve SCREAM.

I had my actual follow up appointment yesterday after Monster’s well check. The night before I had laid in bed moaning as my jaw throbbed and ached. The pain kept me awake until 5 a.m. I only got an hour of sleep and at the office the assistant did the same thing, irrigate and pack. This time the packing made me nauseated and did nothing for the pain. I left work early feeling hot, dizzy and sick to my stomach. After a shakey drive home I tried to take it easy and relax. Fil made me call the doctors office to see if they’d give me a refill so I could stop rationing out my last few pain pills. Instead I got a doctors appointment for today so the doctor could evaluate me.

So I went this morning. The openings are still sore from how rough the tech was with the syringe. Instead of getting to see my doctor, I got a tech who simply irrigated (AGAIN) and told me there was nothing more they would do since I was 11 days post-op and should be okay.

In one swift kick she invalidated my jaw pain and sent me home with my 3rd syringe.

I felt helpless, because I kept insisting my jaw hurt bad and that normal pain management wasn’t cutting it. Four ibuprofen every 4 hours barely took the edge off. She simply told me to keep it up and wait to see how my body healed. I wanted to punch her in her smug little face because who in their right mind confirms that yes, jaw pain is normal post-op because BONE IS EXPOSED TO THE ELEMENTS but then insists that ibuprofen should be able to help that pain, because it shouldn’t be that bad.

I’ll admit, my 20 odd problems since I’ve had this procedure are nothing compared to what Tiff had to endure. It’s still alarming how things can go so wrong when you think you’re in capable hands. I feel a little betrayed after my encounter with the tech today, I feel she was rude and now I have the worse pain in my jaw, causing a horrible headache. I just hope things heal fast and go smoothly from here on out.

Squishy Food Diet

Friday, the 13th (OH GOD I JUST REALIZED THAT HELP ME) I’m having my wisdom teeth FINALLY removed. With them will go the constant aching TMJ-esque migrane, the swollen gum/cheek thing that causes me to chomp down on my precious fleshy cheek at regular intervals and the mind boggling pain as these vicious (huge) teeth try to cut through my gum… even though they’re growing perpendicular to my normal teeth.

No wonder my perfect orthodontics are all skrewy.

I’m so scared of being put to sleep in any manner. I’m also afraid of the pain that will hit me like a brick after I wake up. I’m also afraid that, like Fil, they’ll destroy my beautiful teeth.

On the bright side, I should be in okay shape by Monday for Monster’s birthday party… should be.

Hospital Beds

I’m way too tired for this, but I can’t seem to fall asleep.

I rushed Fil into the ER at midnight, again.

They reduced her jaw once and decided against doing another reduction, avoiding the possibility of damaging her jaw further.

He got her in with an OMFS (oral & maxillofacial surgeon) who disagreed with the quacks in San An*tonio. It’s NOT her brain… at … all.

He didn’t want to do anything to possible add to the soreness of her jaw or distress her any more so he prescribed her a great muscle relaxer and gave her a 4 pack of steroids.

Currently, we’re not aware of ANY OMFS in Texas that will accept Medicaid.

So we’re willing to pay in installments for any surgery.

I’m thinking about getting an appointment with the surgeon who saw Fil. For my wisdom teeth.

Also, we’re still looking for a toddler bed for Baby B. Crossing our fingers we’ll find one soon.

Good morning and Goodbye

Warning: After much jubilation and a little talk of Fil’s health, I start talking about the monthly present. Feel free to move along.

Well, the LMIL is gone. When all is said and done she was a wonderful guest. She folded our laundry when she had nothing to do, she was polite and didn’t bang around making tons of noise. She was sweet to the cats and always offered her help. But a MIL is still a MIL, no matter how lovely she can be. And now we can relax at least for a little while, until Fil starts this new barrage of tests.

Her doctor wants to run loads of tests and scans, he’s even planning on putting her in a clean room if she continues to get infections. We’re really not looking forward to this jump, because her immune system is horribly compromised, so it is highly probable that she will get another infection (her pneumonia aside) and have to go into the clean room. It would be torture for me and Monster. But if it has to happen, it has to happen. In the end I know Dr. P is doing it for her own good.

On the baby making front … there’s … well, no news. I’m not temping, I failed at January’s and haven’t started February’s cycle. But I doubt I’ll jump on the temping wagon. My schedule is leveling out slowly, I wake up at about 6 a.m. every day now, give or take 30-40 minutes. But I would like to have my schedule as level as possible, because adding something like temping into the mix could very well throw my whole schedule into spin cycle and leave me all wrinkly and confused. So, let’s try and get this “wake up at 6 every day” firmly injected into my bones then we’ll tackle the ovulation thing.

I find it very disconcerting that I have yet to get a visit from Mother Nature (I imagine she’s very busy dolling out the red stuff to ridiculously thin women on their vacations) this month. I always talk about being regular and reliable. 90% of the time I am. I will swear up and down to being as regular as the postman, sometimes early, sometimes late but mostly on time.

I’ve counted on a very long cycle of about 30 to 31 days. It’s been that way since I was in the early days of womanhood (you know, 5th grade, 10 years old). The only thing that has ever thrown me off of that schedule has been stress. That’s why I never realised I was pregnant until I was losing it, I’d been under tremendous stress and atributed my late period to that. In fact, it was the tremendous stress that caused me to lose the baby.

I assumed in January that stress was again the culprit for my 5 days late period. In essence, I should be relieved. I was starting quite regularly on the 14th of the month and our anniversary is on the 14th. At least that gives us about a 5 day window in April (if I don’t start early next month!) to revel in our 6 years of togetherness. Well, scratch that, it’s more like 1 week because I am late this month and haven’t even felt the twinge of crampiness I always feel before I start. I think I might skip February, the first time stress has ever pushed my period so far back I miss a month. Bleh x2.

Coming up is the 2 year anniversary of Fil and Monster moving to Texas. On the same day is Buddha’s 7th birthday! And the possible day we’ll recieve our tax refund. YAY!

I’m hoping that that little glimmer of goodness on the horizon will let my body relax and get everything back to normal.

The Weekend and The In Law

I shall be brief about my “weekend”… that is, Thursday – Saturday.

Wednesday evening Fil’s jaw had popped out… again. This time we were determined to go to San Antonio, where the dental school branch of Uni. of Texas is. Everyone we’d talked to (professionals) had said that was the place to go… they accepted Medicaid, and they had an Oral & Maxillofacial Surgery office.

So all day Wednesday we tried to get Fil an emergancy appoinment. By 5:30 that evening we were desperate (because the bitch who we got stuck with never called us back) and started our search for an emergancy line. By 6:30ish we managed to get a doctor on the line who told us to go down there and either go to the ER attached to the school or go into the office when they opened and waited until they saw us.

Either way we were makin’ a trip.

So we arranged cheap accomodations with my parents help, got some money wired here by her grandmother and mother, and scrambled around to pack. Our trunk was packed to the gills and we were in San Antonio by 1 a.m.

The next two days were awful. We were able to get her an appoinment on Thursday at 2:30, where the doctors did an experimental procedure (injecting a whole pack of benedryl into her veins) and sent her home with the advice “don’t take any pain medicine” because it might be neurological. They offered to do an experimental procedure where they’d drill a hole in her head to relieve pressure and hopefully let her jaw relax… however there was a huge risk of paralyzing her jaw or killing her. Hm.

The next day was no better, they gave her a ‘script for pain meds and told her to come back in a week when they’d refer her to a neurosurgeon. It was either go home or let them drill into her head.

We decided against the drilling bit and went back to the hotel. It was 11:30 and we said screw it to doctors and decided to go see Ripley’s Believe it or Not! downtown. Instead we got to go to the Guiness Book of World Records and the Tomb Rider 3D shooting game. After the game there was an arcade and I played shooting games with Monster while Fil tried her hand at Mario and Donkey Kong.

The last bit of our “vacation” was truly a vacation. We had a lot of fun and walked around the Alamo and soaked in fresh, non hospital air. We’re going to have to go back, as just a vacation, and see Ripley’s and all the other cool stuff.

We’re so livid at those doctors, over $400 wasted because they wouldn’t fix her. At least we have that under our belt and can move forward with out-of-network.

In other news, Fil’s mom is coming down for a week to visit us. Um… I’ve never met this woman before, I’ve talked to her lots and she’s trying so hard to be a good mom to Fil… I just don’t know. It’s in TWO DAYS. I don’t have the time. Like now, I need to go clean or something.

Exhaustion, part deux… ou trois

This morning at 4 the pain became unbearable for Fil. Her jaw slid out of place one last time and locked firmly in a disfiguring grimace. This time we did some finger-walking and contacted Br@ckenridge (the county trauma center and a very well known low-income hospital, unlike StD@vid’s that very much so caters to those with real insurance). Of course they had her come in, but there was more hope that they would just fix her.

So we bundled up and drove down deserted roads to Br@ck where it became plainly obvious that she was in waaay more pain than anyone else in the ER (even the woman in labor was chill compared to Fil). I think because of her obvious pain/discomfort they whisked her back faster than they would have normally (note: at StD@vid’s they made her wait for.ev.er to get back, they made her sit in the waiting room, rocking back and forth, sobbing and screaming for help. Yeah, that’s nice) and got her a room with relative speed.

To my chagrin we were put in a room RIGHT in front of the nurses station. The night shift at ANY is known to be chatty and jocular, a little less serious because they deal with the weird shit that rolls in at midnight. But at that moment it was so innapropriet to chat about breakfast while Fil’s screams of pain got ignored. I think it was the hardest visit so far, because she’s reached the end of her proverbial rope. The pain was so excrutiating that she was shaking with tears and had to move to make the pain lessen a little.

Her first doctor was hugely pregnant. Now, obviously I have nothing against pregnant women who work, I think it’s fabulous and go girls! but SERIOUSLY!? Putting a pregnant doctor on a physical case like a jaw dislocation just doesn’t seem… right. She was also AWFUL. More flippant and ignorant that Dr. Buch (the first one) and just awful compared to Dr. Boo (the second doctor who reset her jaw). No one seemed to kick into gear until the shift change happened at 6 and a new doctor grabbed her case. I’ve never been so happy to see a towering Germanic man in all my life. He was beyond nice, he was wonderful. Dr. Z put Fil in such deep sleep she doesn’t even remember much of the hospital, including the unbelievable pain. He reset her jaw 3 times, 2 time this tech, Paul, watched over her and made sure she breathed. He was marvelous and something about his eyes, the way he unyieldingly cared for Fil in that moment, sacrificing comfort and entertainment (there were a few techs just lousing about not 4 yards away) to make sure Fil didn’t succumb to apnea.

The best part about having gone to Br@ack is that they didn’t just talk over Fil. They talked to her, even when she was drugged. They talked to me, kept me sane when she was under for a long time. Dr. Z didn’t ignore my concerns or comments, he expounded as much information that he had and never once grimaced or flinched when he had to come back in to reset her jaw. I could have cried (if I hadn’t already spent all my tears having a panic attack) they were all so lovely. It almost erased the fact that Dr. HugeBelly was a total ass. Almost.

Dr. Z was able to get Fil in to see an oral surgeon, one who pledged to see her, or if not him, someone in his practice. The 4th time it dislocated he left it out and phoned the surgeon who told us to go directly to him once she was discharged. And that we did. We flew down the streets like a bat out of hell. Fil was groggy, exhausted and worse of all, in pain. We got to the office and they threw a lot of paperwork at us. Eventually she got x-rays done and taken back to see the doctor. I was so relieved that I finally got about 20 minutes of sleep… right there… in the waiting room. But I realised that was a slippery slope so I got a cola to wake me up.

I got called back at about 10ish because Fil was apparently incredibly upset. When I walked into the room she was sobbing, hard. Apparently, the surgeon (Dr. H) doesn’t do jaw surgery. He’s just a wisdom teeth/replacement teeth kin of guy who hasn’t touched a jaw in forever. I was so disgusted and angry that he even agreed to see her I wanted to punch him in the face. But, after a LOT of crying and holding Fil, the doctor finally saw us together and we got a breakdown of what we can do.

Since he can’t physically do anything for her other than help reduce the muscular inflammation, he got us the names of two possible candidates to get Fil into a surgeon/dentist’s office. In Austin there’s a CHC, community health center, that provides limited assistance to those who have insurance (i.e. medicaid) but don’t have the money to pay for things out of pocket. It’s sliding scale fees, so since Fil makes no money as she hasn’t worked in almost 7 months, she’d have to pay a very small amount. It’s not nearly as good as the M.A.P card, but since she has medicaid it’s a no-go. But the CHC might just be the supplemental aid we need to get her going places. At LEAST a dentist.

There’s also an Oral/Maxillofacial Surgery school in San Antonio that might be able to see Fil and do surgery for free. There’s definitely a wait list, but from what I understand (what my dad told me) is that they’re able to do urgent care, which I’m sure being unable to eat qualifies as urgent.

While it is in San Antonio, it’s still a good long ways away. I don’t doubt that we could find help getting the gas and the hotel, we have an amazing support network of friends, family and even people we don’t know pitching for us. But it’s just the thought of being so far from home and not being able to bring Fil directly to the comfort of her bed after surgery that makes me queasy.

I’m so tired I could scream. Our 3rd ER visit in under 5 days. It feels like those Medical Mystery shows where this person is running from place to place begging for help and no one seems to be able to. I’m relieved to know that there are people who are explicitly on our side, helping us find  care and giving us all the love in the world. I only hope… and pray that things get better soon. How will we survive like this for much longer?

Never in the Clear

I am so damn exhausted I can’t see straight. Yet sleep won’t come. Probably because I need to get this thing off of my chest.

Last night at almost midnight Fil’s jaw dislocated. I rushed her to the ER (since I couldn’t get it to go in) where we waited around for 6 hours. In that time they reset her jaw, twice, pumped her full of Valium and morphine and sent us home with prescriptions and referrals.

We got home by 6:30 and I was exhausted. I hadn’t slept in over 24 hours and hadn’t eaten since dinner. We crawled into bed for 2 hours and woke up at 8 to call the oral surgeon… who refused to even see Fil since she’s on medicaid. Several phone calls later we learned that no oral surgeon in our area accepts medicaid for ages 21+. The ER informed us we’d have to return if her jaw dislocated again… which it did. At least 15 times between 8 and 1 p.m. when we got to the ER for our second visit.

Fil hadn’t eaten anything, and neither had I. We were both red eyed and ready to call it quits but we kept pushing.

This time her doctor was much, much nicer. He reset her jaw, but unlike the last doctor, he let  the sedation take effect before jerking around her jaw. I was able to stay in the room during the procedure and her nurse was wonderful, she checked in on her often, contacted a social worker to see how Fil could possibly get surgery without having to pay thousands, and kept very vigilant on pushing as much pain meds as she needed.

This time around Fil felt very confident that it was in and much more relaxed. The nurse bandaged her head so as to keep her jaw closed. They sent us home with lots of medicine and well wishes.

We went to the pharmacy and filled her scripts. The poor thing can really only eat super mushy things and have things through a straw so I got her some french fries and a milkshake.

We kept Monster home for the day since he was coughing so badly and we wanted him to have access to his inhaler, so my dad was awesome enough to pick him up at noon and take him ’til 6 when we got out of the ER. They fed him both times and kept him very well occupied. When I think we’re just about to snap from the unfairness that life tosses us, I remember that at least we have a great support network to bounce back on. I don’t know what we would have done if there was no one to watch him today.

I am so, so angry at her first doctor/nurse. Her doctor was in a rush to get home and her nurse just seemed uncaring and flippant. She was very rough with Fil’s IV and now Fil has a huge bruise because of this nurse’s incompetence. They forced me out of the procedure room and into the family waiting room where I could hear them hurting her and then had the nerve to leave me sitting there for 15 minutes while Fil was taken away for x-rays and relocated. I only found out where Fil was because her nurse bumped into me as she was making her rounds. I was already furious when they made me wait in an empty room for another 10-15 minutes. If it weren’t for the shift change I would have strangled someone. Her new nurse at 3 was just beyond wonderful. She got me cranberry juice (that has NEVER happened) and kept checking in on me until Fil finally showed up. Poor baby was so sore and tired. We just wanted to go home, but her jaw dislocated, again and they had to hold her until 5:30 for observation. Ugh.

But the second time around we were only in there for 4 hours, they let me watch the procedure and comfort Fil while they were jerking her jaw around. I didn’t have to sit idly by to listen to her screaming. Much more preferable. I was so skeptical about the doctors and nurses, I had lost all faith, but I had to be brave and strong because Fil was in so much pain she was sobbing in front of strangers (which is so rare) and begging for someone to help her. Thank god these people didn’t live up to my very pessimistic expectations.

We cried a lot, Fil hurt and I was scared out of my head. We held each other and watched a little TV and she drank apple juice and somehow she was healed… if not very sore.

I know this post was incredibly disjointed, but I’ve only had 5 hours of sleep in the past 44 hours. But I do feel much better now that it’s off my chest and out there. Now I can cuddle up to Fil and sleep. Ah, sleep.