Saturday, March 10, 2012

My Foley Fun

I thought maybe I'd post something lighter. My first experience with the joys of a Foley catheter. The names of the nurses have been changed because it seemed appropriate (or my sieve-like brain refused to retain them). 

After I know that without question I'm delivering that day, I call Jamie and tell him Thing #4 is being born on Dr. Suess's burthday, but since I'd had breakfast, it wouldn't be until 3 or so. He says he has a meeting at noon that he really has to go to. Instead of "Are you fucking kidding me," I just say, "Okay - see you soon." They get me a room and I'm just hanging out for an hour or so. One of the L&D nurses, Emily, poor Emily, comes in and says they want to put in the catheter early just in case they decide they need to move right away, so they'd have one less thing to worry about. I didn't know it at the time, but they had a huge team of people assembled for this. At least 7 just for Belisaria because they thought she was going to be a very sick baby. If they thought they needed to move, they were going to move fast. I ask if my husband should be there and she says "yeah, good idea." No way am I having a c-section without him there. It's not that I'll be alone, because I won't, but he's been bitching so much about not wanting to see any blood or guts and at that point I think it's only fair that he at least run the risk of looking the wrong way and seeing the reflection of my sliced open uterus. I call the office and ask if he's available. Nope. Still in his meeting. I consider asking when he'll be done, but decide screw that, he needs to come. I start crying, and try to talk like I'm not crying, which never works, and say he should come to the hospital. Lisa, no dummy who absolutely knows I'm bawling, walks into the meeting and says, "Your wife needs you." 

He shows up and things slow down again. My SIL, Mary, comes by. Emily comes in to place the catheter, but seems hesitant to put in the catheter with Mary there. After three vaginal births and having dozens of strangers with their hands up my clacker, I could care less if Mary sees my taint. Mary tells me how much she loved hers because she could just lay in bed and pee and not have to go anywhere or clean anything up. I ask her if she thought it hurt going in. She says she doesn't remember that, just the bliss of being able to piss at will. Lovely. So Emily tries to get the first one in, and no dice, it went into the vagina first. And there must be no mingling of the vagina and the urethra. It doesn't hurt as much as I'm expecting - more like a rough pap smear. But she has to get a second kit. She tries the second one. 

At this point, I've been lying on my back with my feet pulled up close to my ass and my knees apart for about five minutes. Did I mention what I had for breakfast that morning? Two high fiber granola bars. Emily starts trying with the second catheter. At that point I completely lose control of my sphincter, and fart right in this poor woman's face. I am completely mortified. Mary starts laughing. Jamie starts laughing. All I can say is, "holy shit, I am so sorry. I am sooooo sorry." She says it's okay, happens all the time. Mary is still laughing, Jamie is still laughing. I start laughing and predictably starting farting like it's my fucking job. At that point, Emily has had it with my ass and my urethra, so she goes to get another nurse. The other nurse, we'll call her Jane because her real name slipped from my mind one second after entering it, comes in and says, "I hear you have a tricky urethra." She has a third kit. I have no idea where the second tube ended up, but assume vagina.

Jamie says, "I should use that as my facebook status - overheard at Hershey Medical Center 'You have a tricky urethra.'" I say, "Fuck you."

Turns out I did have a tricky urethra. I'm not sure why or how, but Jane gets the thing in, pointing out to Emily exactly what is askew in my nethers. It really isn't so awful when it's going in, but the feeling it gives you is that your bladder is full and no matter how much you pee, it's still full. Mary is full of shit. Emily says, "I'm so sorry I put you through that." I say, "I farted in your face. I think we're even."

Consistently Inconsistent

I've never been good at this blogging thing. Every time I think I've gotten into a groove, I lose track. Even with my last post, written at the end of November, and posted mid-December. It was written when I was in a bad place. That place got better and better, and maybe that was the problem. The past two-and-a-half months have, in many ways, flown by. In some ways they've crawled. My daughter was born nine days ago. When she was four days old, she got a pacemaker, and I posted this on Facebook:

Today is a big day. I want to thank everyone for their good thoughts, wishes, and prayers for Aria. I'm selfishly asking for more today. She's been in the NICU not because she was born prematurely (at 36 weeks she really just barely qualifies), but because she has an issue with her heart. Objectively, it's not a terrible one. For me, though, and everyone who loves her, it is. In roughly three hours, I'll have to hand her over to the person who will help fix that problem, and it will be the single hardest thing I have ever had to do.

We've known about this for a while, since just before Thanksgiving. Since that time, I have gotten to know, in person and online, some of the most amazing and generous souls. Some of them might read this post. Some I know won't, because we shared just about everything but our names over cups of coffee at four in the morning in the Ronald McDonald family room outside the NICU. I am a better person for having met them. Which makes me feel no small amount of guilt because I have been improved through Aria's misfortune.

But to them, and everyone else, I send a profound thank you. I will update here as much as I can throughout the day. I love you all.