Saturday, August 19, 2006

random random random hell hell hell

Blah. Progesterone brain. Not the most suggested condition to be in two weeks out from a hideously expensive and important exam.

Random thoughts.

1. If the freaking Prime freaking Minister can say sorry to Vietnam Vets, why the HELL can't he say Sorry to Aboriginal Australia for generations of genocide and poor treatment? I'll tell you why: because they're BLACK. Freakin hypocrite.

2. An embryo does not a child make. Hell, I should know. I've had 4 in the past year and I'm still waiting. Stem cell research is important.

3. How the hell does our child sustitute cat Meg know when T is coming home from work- given he drives a Prius at low speeds (ie electrically) down our street?

4. My ex-boss gave me a hard time in the tea room the other day at work. He said "You're going to PASS the exam this time, stop all this messing about and get on with it". Sorry, Sir, but what part of three miscarriages in twelve months exactly constitutes "messing about"? How DARE he. I felt intimidated and threatened by him. Hell, that's workplace bullying. I should know- I had enough when I was surgical.

5. It was such a nice day today that after we came home from viva practice we went to the park and spent ALL DAY laying in the sun, eating strawberries, reading the paper and snoozing. It was quite the nicest day we have had in a while (well, ok the NTT day was great, but not nearly as relaxing).

6. I have a subserosal fibroid on the anetrior surface of my uterus. It doesn't interfere with peanut. But it does confirm i have turned into a NANNA. Lol at myself when I realise I am sitting at the laptop, listening to Wolfmother, typing into my blog... and wearing FLUFFY SLIPPERS. Embrace the inner nanna, I say.

Thank you, that's all. Hell, that's all.

Monday, August 14, 2006


Peanut. Self- explanatory. Posted by Picasa

it was the parsely that worked for me

Yesterday we had the big scary 12 week nuchal translucency test. And I am overawed to say we passed it. Actually we freakin' ACED it.

I cannot say how amazingly truly wonderful this is. Despite being a 'recurrent aborter' (don't you just love medical terminology?) we now have the same chance of losing The Peanut as any other pregnant couple. It still hasn't sunk in. After the scan we went shopping (we both needed new work shoes) and we slunk into the baby section of David Jones'. We looked at a few things and then slunk out again without buying anything. I still can't shake the feeling that one day I will start spotting again. But I needent. There are good odds that, come February, we will be encumbered. Happily so.

The funny thing is, that when we asked obstetrician supervising the scan (not my regular) about my risk given that I had had 3 miscarriages, he said "I wish you could have spoken to the lady I have just told has miscarried her first pregnancy. She was so sad, she had to leave the place with tears all down her face" my first reaction was to have told that woman "Hey I have had three, you can do it too!". That is PRECISELY the sort of thing I HATED hearing after a miscarriage. (In fact, I am wondering what I will do once I become obviously pregnant and I have to anaesthetise for a miscarriage D&C. Ask to do something else? Probably.) The best thing that my counsellor did for me was to acknowledge my fears that I would never be successful. I didn't want to know about all those other women who fell pregnant after their third, fourth or seventh miscarriage, I wanted to know what would happen to ME.

So, what should I say?
1. You did nothing wrong.
2. I really really really know what you're feeling. I'm truly sorry you have to have this pain, I know how awful, crushed, alienated and lonely you feel.
3. Hibernate. Or not. Do what ever you feel like. Howl. Moan. Shout at the cat. Eat chocolate. Excercise compulsively. Go for a long drive. Stay at home. Your own feelings will tell you what is right. Don't let anyone tell you how to feel or what to do.
4. Get counselling
5. Plant a pot of parsely next to the back door. It doesn't matter if it is curly leaf, flat or Italian, any kind will do (although I planted all three). My dad told me this; it's a folk remedy never known to fail. Given my grandmother spoke fluent Gaelic (despite being 4th gen Aussie) I am guessing it's Irish in origin. Keep it well watered, and healthy. You can use it for cooking if you want, so long as it is there.

It worked for me.

GASNEWS: Me and T have both got Viva invitations for the exam. Anybody know which herb to plant for that? I'm guessing Papaver somniferum, maybe be Digitalis or perhaps whatever Curare is from.

Speaking of medical euphemisms, I reckon 'muscle relaxant' would have to be one of the biggest porkies we use. To the layperson, 'muscle relaxant' sounds akin to a nice deep muscle massage, the kind that leaves you floppy and relaxed and kind of Zen. Bollocks. Try 'paralysing agent'.

it was the parsely that worked for me

Yesterday we had the big scary 12 week nuchal translucency test. And I am overawed to say we passed it. Actually we freakin' ACED it.

I cannot say how amazingly truly wonderful this is. Despite being a 'recurrent aborter' (don't you just love medical terminology?) we now have the same chance of losing The Peanut as any other pregnant couple. It still hasn't sunk in. After the scan we went shopping (we both needed new work shoes) and we slunk into the baby section of David Jones'. We looked at a few things and then slunk out again without buying anything. I still can't shake the feeling that one day I will start spotting again. But I needent. There are good odds that, come February, we will be encumbered. Happily so.

The funny thing is, that when we asked obstetrician supervising the scan (not my regular) about my risk given that I had had 3 miscarriages, he said "I wish you could have spoken to the lady I have just told has miscarried her first pregnancy. She was so sad, she had to leave the place with tears all down her face" my first reaction was to have told that woman "Hey I have had three, you can do it too!". That is PRECISELY the sort of thing I HATED hearing after a miscarriage. (In fact, I am wondering what I will do once I become obviously pregnant and I have to anaesthetise for a miscarriage D&C. Ask to do something else? Probably.) The best thing that my counsellor did for me was to acknowledge my fears that I would never be successful. I didn't want to know about all those other women who fell pregnant after their third, fourth or seventh miscarriage, I wanted to know what would happen to ME.

So, what should I say?
1. You did nothing wrong.
2. I really really really know what you're feeling. I'm truly sorry you have to have this pain, I know how awful, crushed, alienated and lonely you feel.
3. Hibernate. Or not. Do what ever you feel like. Howl. Moan. Shout at the cat. Eat chocolate. Excercise compulsively. Go for a long drive. Stay at home. Your own feelings will tell you what is right. Don't let anyone tell you how to feel or what to do.
4. Get counselling
5. Plant a pot of parsely next to the back door. It doesn't matter if it is curly leaf, flat or Italian, any kind will do (although I planted all three). My dad told me this; it's a folk remedy never known to fail. Given my grandmother spoke fluent Gaelic (despite being 4th gen Aussie) I am guessing it's Irish in origin. Keep it well watered, and healthy. You can use it for cooking if you want, so long as it is there.

It worked for me.

GASNEWS: Me and T have both got Viva invitations for the exam. Anybody know which herb to plant for that? I'm guessing Papaver somniferum, maybe be Digitalis or perhaps whatever Curare is from.

Speaking of medical euphemisms, I reckon 'muscle relaxant' would have to be one of the biggest porkies we use. To the layperson, 'muscle relaxant' sounds akin to a nice deep muscle massage, the kind that leaves you floppy and relaxed and kind of Zen. Bollocks. Try 'paralysing agent'.

Friday, August 04, 2006

up, down, up down... and then some

Ok so everyone told me that all those hormones would play havoc with my emotions, but I wasn't really prepared for the combinations of hormones AND uncertainty. (Just naiive, I guess- so many brains, so few clues). The last two progesterone levels I have had done have fallen from the initial high. By some 20ng/L; a more than 25% fall. Of course I start freaking out- it was all my fault: I tried on a (eh-hem) maternity sack at Target (pronounced, of course, like my mum "Tar-jette") by mistake. (Ok so I was buying a new Trackie; where else do you get a trackie that will fit my rapidly increasing girth? Not Juicy Couture, that's for damn' sure).

So again I got all teary and started sneering at women with babies, moaning that i would never join their ranks. The kindly midwives at the clinic offered to do me a test today to put my mind at ease.

Of course my Pg is now higher than ever!

Tomorrow is week 11. Tuesday week is the Nuchal Translucency Test, which I have already set myself up is going to be horrendously large, and I will have to undergo CVS, I will be the 1 in 100 to miscarry after it, and the peanut will be Tri21 anyway so my risk next time will be way way high. Nothing like covering all the options, eh.

I remember telling my school principal in year 12 that a pessimist is never disappointed. She didn't get it. (She was a very dull woman).

Just to change the topic, I originally set this up as 'volatile gas world' because 1. I'm full of hot air 2. I'm vegetarian and 3. I work with volatile agents (ok, so 'volatile gas' is an oxymoron, so sue me) all day- both the chemicals and the people...

So here's a VGW moment- last week I (very, very cautiously) anaesthetised a lovely old person with an open upper limb# who had spirometry of 0.5/1.1. I gave her a TOTAL of 75 mcg Fentanyl intraop. This is in contrast to the (get this) 150mcg bolus (of Fent: not Alf or Remi or Suf, plain old 20 minute Fent) they gave her in the ER to try and reduce her fracture. The ED notes read "observe for signs resp. depression". Really? You THINK?

Man there are some cowboys out there.

Nobbys' Lighthouse (Ok *I* didn't name it), Newcastle, NSW. Posted by Picasa

this is one of the oldest swimming pools in Australia, having been carved from the rocks by convict labour after Governor Macquarie (who else?) wanted a private bathing area. Still used by the hardier types: at high tide and on a big sea, large waves wash straight into the pool. I just liked the reflections and the orange/blue colurs of the sky and sea. One of my better efforts, I think. Posted by Picasa