After two weeks of having the PICC line pumping Zofran, fluids and nutrients into my arm I went for a follow up. The hope was that the Zofran was doing its job and I'd be able to eat and be over the whole awake sickness thing. I walked into the office and when they weighed me, I was down another 10 pounds. I had been afraid to weigh myself at home, but at that moment I knew I couldn't will myself to gain weight, or pray it on.
Dr. Clouatre came in with a really unhappy look and once again I felt hopeless. 'Good news!' he said, followed by, 'weight doesn't matter, nutrients do. We are going to take some blood and do a test just to check. You are probably doing fine, but you'll need to keep the line in a bit longer.'
Awesome. More needles and I got to keep the tube hanging out of my arm. Bonus: rocking the fanny pack longer!
The following morning I got a call from the nurse. She explained my test results (jibberish) and then told me that Clouatre had called his friend, a general surgeon, who made room for me that afternoon. 'Wait... Um, I don't understand. Why do I need a surgeon?', she was super helpful and told me that he would have to discuss that with me at my appointment.
At 2 pm I met with Dr. Handsome. Seriously. I can't remember his name but he was distractingly good looking. He explained to me that if I agreed, he would put in a feeding tube. He explained the process to me, 'I will make a small incision,' still bitter about his definition of small, but that's another story for another day, 'small incision above your belly button, I'll thread a tube through your large intestine because we have to bypass your stomach, and then the tube will come out a different spot where you will hook up the food pump. The initial incision will be sewn back up.' hmmmm. Sounds drastic. 'Dr. Handsome, is this really necessary?', with his fantastic bedside manner he explained, 'If we don't do this, one of two things will happen: you will starve to death along with your twins, or you will lose both babies.' Alrighty then! Easy decision, right? 'You've done this before, yes? What are the risks to my babies?' he reassured me that he had done thousands of these procedures, but never on a pregnant woman, it was a simple outpatient surgery, and the risks, of course, would be losing one or both babies. 'If you can go ahead and make a decision, I can get you in tomorrow morning at 6am.' I told him yes, and that if I didn't show, I had changed my mind.
Starving. To death. All of us. It was a no brainer. We had survived thirteen weeks together. I would do anything to try and save my babies.
Dr. Clouatre came in with a really unhappy look and once again I felt hopeless. 'Good news!' he said, followed by, 'weight doesn't matter, nutrients do. We are going to take some blood and do a test just to check. You are probably doing fine, but you'll need to keep the line in a bit longer.'
Awesome. More needles and I got to keep the tube hanging out of my arm. Bonus: rocking the fanny pack longer!
The following morning I got a call from the nurse. She explained my test results (jibberish) and then told me that Clouatre had called his friend, a general surgeon, who made room for me that afternoon. 'Wait... Um, I don't understand. Why do I need a surgeon?', she was super helpful and told me that he would have to discuss that with me at my appointment.
At 2 pm I met with Dr. Handsome. Seriously. I can't remember his name but he was distractingly good looking. He explained to me that if I agreed, he would put in a feeding tube. He explained the process to me, 'I will make a small incision,' still bitter about his definition of small, but that's another story for another day, 'small incision above your belly button, I'll thread a tube through your large intestine because we have to bypass your stomach, and then the tube will come out a different spot where you will hook up the food pump. The initial incision will be sewn back up.' hmmmm. Sounds drastic. 'Dr. Handsome, is this really necessary?', with his fantastic bedside manner he explained, 'If we don't do this, one of two things will happen: you will starve to death along with your twins, or you will lose both babies.' Alrighty then! Easy decision, right? 'You've done this before, yes? What are the risks to my babies?' he reassured me that he had done thousands of these procedures, but never on a pregnant woman, it was a simple outpatient surgery, and the risks, of course, would be losing one or both babies. 'If you can go ahead and make a decision, I can get you in tomorrow morning at 6am.' I told him yes, and that if I didn't show, I had changed my mind.
Starving. To death. All of us. It was a no brainer. We had survived thirteen weeks together. I would do anything to try and save my babies.
Comments
Post a Comment