My Second Time as a Hospital Patient, Ever

Today ranks as one of the five worst days of my life. It also marks the second time in my life that I've been admitted to a hospital. The first time being when I gave birth to Violet.

This morning I woke up to severe bleeding (both new and old blood). To be clear - not spotting -- bleeding. I immediately called my doctor and since I’m out of town, I was instructed to go to the emergency room.

My rental car reservation is messed up, so I had to take a taxi to the hospital. At 6:56AM I arrived at the emergency room of O’Connor Hospital in San Jose. There was only one other person in the waiting room. Which is good, not only because of the shorter wait time, but I like to limit the number of people who are subjected to me sobbing uncontrollably.

I checked in and was asked to wear a mask as a precaution – because uterine bleeding is apparently airborne. They asked me a billion questions, determined that I’m 14 weeks, one day pregnant, which means I need to go to labor and delivery (L&D) to be examined.

I waited alone in the waiting room for 30+ minutes before I bugged the check in desk. Then some guy arrived with a wheel chair and took me to L&D.

The nurse at the L&D desk has the bedside manner of ass meat. I don’t know what that means, but I’d like to refer to her as “ass meat.” While I sat there filling out forms and answering questions in my wheelchair, a stranger brought me some tissues and offered to take my mask.

It must have been obvious that the mask needed to go, because wearing a mask + sobbing uncontrollably = paper stuck to your face and a worthless mask.

After processing my information, I was asked to get out of my wheelchair and go to the “resource room.” The “resource room” had three chairs, a nightstand from the 80’s, a trash can and two candy wrappers on the floor.

I’m assuming this is the room where they take families to deliver bad news.

I sat there for probably 20 minutes, then I asked ass meat what the ETA was. She told me that she had called the doctor and someone was on their way.

Ten minutes later a nurse (let’s call her ass meat’s ugly sister) pulls up with a wheelchair and informs me that according to their calculations, I’m actually 13 weeks, four days pregnant; therefore they need to take me back down to the ER. I’m still sobbing uncontrollably. A non-ass meat nurse pets my hair, says everything will be OK and tells me that they’re going to wheel me back downstairs.

They wheel me back down and I re-check in at the ER. I’m asked to put another mask on and I’m immediately sent to the triage nurse. He takes my blood pressure, temperature, asks me a million more questions and lets me know that I need to fill out some more paperwork, before they take me back into the ER.

I sign my life away and FINALLY, I’m taken into the ER. At this point, I’ve been at the hospital for 90+minutes.

A kind nurse tells me that I can take my mask off now and she leads me to Room #2. I’m asked to strip, piss in a cup, get into a gown and lay on a gurney.

A doctor comes in and asks me what’s going on. He tells me that they’re going to take my blood and give me an ultrasound. From here on out, I’m going to leave out wait times. Know that I wait at least 15 minutes between each new step.

Wait.

A different nurse comes in and takes my blood. They flushed my system with saline, which makes your mouth taste like seawater. She puts a port in my arm, because the doctor wants to run an IV. I tell the nurse that I’m not going to do an IV right now. I tell her that the morning has been traumatic enough; I just can’t deal with an IV right now. She tells me that’s OK, but she leaves the port in my arm. She starts some small talk to make me feel better and asks how old my daughter is. When I tell her two years and three months, she said, “Well, it’s time for you to be pregnant.” As soon as the words left her mouth, more uncontrollable sobs.

I leave my clothes, phone and wallet in room #2. I don’t really care about them at this point.

A different person, I have no idea who, wheels me through the hospital to the ultrasound department. With no word, I’m left in a hallway, still sobbing, in a hospital gown. Finally, some guy, stops and says, “Ma’am, we’ll be with you in a second.”

Wait.

Finally Ramon introduces himself and takes me to ultrasound room #4. He asks what’s going on, asks if he can tuck a towel in my underwear and smears on the ultrasound goo. Ramon is very kind and sensitive about the entire thing. He’s quiet for a while and I finally ask him, “Do you see anything?”

He tells me TBD looks fine. The heartbeat is strong and he can see no issues – with one exception. There’s another gestational sack. Then I explain about TBD’s possible twin.

He lets me see TBD, he takes some photos of TBD for me (which I’m later told never happens – so Ramon is really cool) and he leaves to talk to my doctor.

While Ramon is gone, it hits 9AM. I'm in a Catholic hospital. At 9AM they issue a reflection/prayer for the day. More sobbing. He returns shortly and tells me that I’m going back to the ER.

Ramon wheels me back through the hospital and I’m taken back to room #2 in the ER. My stuff is still there. Ramon gives me my phone so I can call Dave.

Wait.

My doctor comes back in, tells me that everything looks OK, but they’re not positive why I’m bleeding. He tells me to take things easy, stay off my feet and to rest as much as possible. He tells me that he’s going to write up some instructions and that a nurse will be back in to remove my port.

Wait.

A weird nurse comes in and takes my port out. She reads through my doctor’s notes. My official diagnosis is something something miscarriage/abortion. Real light reading.

I’m asked to get dressed and to leave. I ask if I need to check out and she says “no.” I walk out of the ER alone, get in a taxi, go to work.

I’m still bleeding, so I’m not going to feel better until I see my doctor on Monday in Houston.

On the positive, I had to tell my boss what was going on and it went really well. She told me I should fly home immediately if that is what’s best -- I'm stubborn, I'm finishing my trip. On the negative, I still won’t be going loud and large with my pregnancy news, because I’m facing another hurdle.

I made it on time to my 10:30 meeting.

Lucky week 13...