Whoa, what happened to the optimism?

Item – I managed to get a GP appointment for this morning. Yay!

Item – The GP was, naturally, one I’d never seen before in my entire life (oh, the joys of belonging to a large urban practice). But she was sweet, and sweet is good.

Item – We explained the Saga and showed her all the letters from Mothership Hospital’s EPU. She did a visible double-take when reading the date of my last period. Yes, quite, that’s what we all thought.

Item – She then asked me the very same thing quite a few nurses and doctors and consultants have asked me now. What on earth made me take a pregnancy test at a mere two weeks into the cycle? What, apart from the violent stabbing cramping pain in my right iliac fossa and sudden freaky bleeding? Surely if anything gynaecologically weird happens, you reach for the HPT? No? Oh. Well, I decided explaining about calm, sardonic little voices in the back of my head was open to misinterpretation. So I waffled something about feeling a bit sicky and weird and having a hyper-sensitive sense of smell, as in all previous pregnancies (and most previous luteal phases, but hell no I’m not mentioning that).

Item – Dear Internets, this was actually untrue. The nausea and tracker-hound smellorama only started a couple of days ago. At the time I took the test, I only had that little voice, sounding wryly amused at the very suggestion it was making.

Item – Anyway, the GP seemed a little non-plussed by the original diagnosis of non-viable and/or ectopic, so I reminded her of the weird dates and weird bleeding and weird cramps. She went through a delicate routine of trying to be optimistic about the rising beta (but not a doubling beta, as H keeps pointing out, I think because the sight of people being chirpy about this causes him actual physical pain he’s so anxious), while expressing due acknowledgement of the all-tits-up nature of the Saga so far. She even, Gottenyu, went on to suggest I make another appointment at the GPs if the beta next Monday goes well, so they can book me into the ante-natal clinic. At which point the tiny, shrivelled gland I use to generate hope exploded in a little puff of dry dust.

Item – So I asked if, in that case, I should go back to work tomorrow? She instantly switched to a serious face and said that really, under the circumstances, it would be better if I stayed at home for a few days and relaxed as much as possible. WTF? I mean, I know the heavy-lifting, front-desk-staffing parts of my job should probably be avoided, and I had planned on asking her for a note ordering my bosses to let me stay in the inner office and catalogue books with a distracted expression on my face. But stay home altogether? Did I say WTF?

Item – H then asked if I would be OK on my own all day, and she very promptly said, err, no, actually, it would be better if someone was with me for at least most of the time.

Item – Umm, so, is the GP being ridiculously cautious? Or was her optimistic act the ridiculous part? Should I be reassured? Should I be scared shitless? Anyway, H has got an office lap-top now and will be hanging about looking as bored and frustrated as I am, so no-one else need be anxious about me. Just, WTF?

Item – This is going to be a very long week.

Item – Also, there are six pee-sticks left in the house. Any bets on how many will survive until the weekend?


10 responses to “Whoa, what happened to the optimism?

  • MFA Mama

    Oh, May. I don’t know. I think she’s playing it verrry cautious because you’re a obstetric minefield and a bleeder besides, and nobody wants to be the one to say DON’T be careful because then if you’re NOT and Something Happens…I think there’s a class in med school on Preemptive Panic. But…they’re really making you wait a week? DID you explain about how THE INNERNET NEEDS TO KNOW? Because we do.

  • Betty M

    Can you persuade them to do a beta on say Thursday to a) get an idea of what is going on and b) make you feel like there is action of a sort and make this week a shade shorter?

  • Valery

    what was that saying again, a pee stick a day keeps the doctor away?
    (if only….)

  • Ben Warsop

    I’ve just noticed that you described 2009 as an “absolute puddle of arse-gravy a of a year”. I do adore you.

    Thank goodness Google Reader isn’t blocked at work. As MFA Mama says “THE INNERNETS NEED TO KNOW”. I’m losing sensation in my thighs with all this sitting on the edge of my seat.


  • Twangy

    Could be the GP is also in uncharted waters..? It’s all very unusual, after all. Maybe she really can’t predict what might happen, and is playing it extra-safe.

    Wise not to mention the little voices to a medical professional, I agree. Best not to get scribbly note added to file!
    (I mean everyone has them. Sane people know not to mention them, is the point.)

    How long to beta? a week? Bloomin Nora, my nerves are toast.
    Sorry, this is not reassuring. Deep breaths, deep ones.

  • a

    I’m pretty sure your GP is also saying WTF? and so is wanting to place you in a cloud of cotton for safekeeping until such a time as she can figure it out. If she could check you into such a place for the next week or so, I am sure she would. Optimism is for the uninformed, you know.

    Don’t extinguish the hope yet. Break out the Monopoly board, though, because it’s going to be a looong week.

    Also, unless those pee-sticks suddenly start giving you numerical values, why would you waste your time using them? Seems like an unnecessary reason to pee on your hands…

  • Hairy Farmer Family

    Actually, if you use the same brand of pee-stick, and use them consistently first thing a.m., you CAN see the line darkening. Up to a point. If we’re playing pee-sticks, I would advise buying half a dozen of a cheapy 50miu brand, because a beta of 64 should still be faint-ish, but would darken significantly over the course of this week with a doubling beta.

    I’ve played this game before: can you tell?!

    Things are tense here too. Even John is asking for updates.

    I’m not so much bemused by the GP banging you up for a week – this level of stress and employment simply don’t mix well – as by her saying you need a chaperone. That only really makes sense if you were still thought to be harbouring an ectopic and at risk of collapse – which your HCG and absence of recent pain doesn’t really support. Strange!

  • Solnushka

    Clearly you have moved beyond the ken of GP medicine. I should disregard using her too much as a form of entrail reading as she is definitely hedging all her bets there. Not helpful, but probably the best anyone can do at the moment.

    Hope you don’t knaw each others legs off or anything too cabin feverish. Time to develop a real fettish for improving your skill on satisfying shootemup computer games, I reckon.

    Gritting our teeths with you over here too. Hugs.

  • g

    I’m guessing zero pee-sticks shall remain.

    I’m also now mentally counting until I go half mad muttering ‘?late implantation, ?heavy implantantation bleeding, low betasss???’

    It’s all most odd, but I hope it ends well. Very much so.


  • manapan

    I’m sorry that this is going to be an awful week of boredom and worry for you both. ((hugs)) I’m hoping for a happy ending with everything I have.

    My guess is that there will be negative 8 pee-sticks, because you will send H out to buy more and check for line-darkening twice a day. At least that’s what I’d end up doing, but I’m neurotic like that. 🙂

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