I can breathe!

Well as DG mentioned, today’s trip to the clinic turned out to be a little more traumatic than I imagined. Possibly a little melodramatic for those who’ve been through lots of medical procedures but it was far from a barrel of laughs.

As I think I’ve already written, after perking up a little for the egg transfer on Saturday by that night I had slipped back to how I had been feeling previously. I was pretty short of breath all the time, unable to eat more than a few mouthfuls of food without feeling I was going to burst, very very uncomfy and felt I wasn’t weeing as much as before, but because I’d only been scanned that morning I assumed I’d just overdone it a little.

Monday morning I had told Mr R I would ring in to the clinic with my passport number which I’d missed off my green form. So I did, and happened to mention I was feeling crappy still. I got a call back an hour or so later from nice nurse saying Mr R had asked if I would come in Tuesday for a scan. As we’re over an hour from the clinic I think she guessed from the tone in my voice I didn’t much fancy taking the trip. Although I was sure it was going to be a bit of a wasted journey that would end in me being told things were moving along, but slowly, nice nurse insisted it was best to stay on the safe side and to come up.

We took T to nursery and arranged for our neighbour to pick him up if we got stuck in traffic but thought we would be back with a little time to spare. Packed E into the car and made our way again to the clinic.

As soon as Mr R felt my stomach, before he hadn’t even started the scan, he said yes we have fluid now. I wasn’t too worried, but as he moved the scanner around my stomach (yes thats right, no more dildocam!) he could see quite a bit of fluid had started to build up.

If I only lived a short distance from the clinic he said I could have been checked each day to see how things went on their own. But, as we are over an hour away and because I was so uncomfortable he suggested we do some drainage today to give me some instant relief that would hopefully slow the problem down while my body recovers and sorts itself out. He explained this did involve a needle, but that they would do it vaginally. Allegedly the tissues ‘down there’ don’t feel a needle the same way so it would feel more like pressure. Somewhere between a rough smear and getting a coil fitted in terms of discomfort. I agreed and thinking about it now must have temporarily forgot that my coil fitting was only so easy because it was only 8 weeks since I’d given birth so things were still slightly ‘open’.

To be honest if anyone in the future is reading this because they’ve come across it looking for info on having this procedure coming up you might be best not to read on. I got through it in one piece in the end and do feel better afterwards, but I don’t think knowing all the details would have helped me do anything other than be more worried before it started.

As we went through I realised that little E in her pushchair would not be able to come in with us. I almost volunteered that I would be ok on my own so dh could look after her, when one of the nurses offered to keep watch while we went in.

So, back in the little room that has witnessed so much this week, wearing another sexy blue paper gown. In goes dildocam and I’m told to look away whilst the needle is prepared as Mr R knows of my fears. However, he kept talking about the bloody thing whilst sorting it!

I’m then told “Here comes a little scratch”. My f**king arse was that a little scratch! (DG don’t read the following as I know you won’t like it) but at that point I actually cried out in pain. After that its very hard to describe how it felt, but lets say extreme discomfort for the next few moments while Mr R is telling me “See we’re ok now, now we just sit here for ten minutes draining out fluid”. Tears were rolling down my face but I didn’t dare move, I was bloody scared to be honest. After filling the first bottle or two (which I think were 50ml but I can’t remember right now) the discomfort has eased slightly to the point where I felt I could bear it so long as I didn’t speak, did lots of heavy breathing and dh stayed very close holding my hand. Each time he moved the needle though, or was pressing on my stomach to feel progress, I winced again.

I was told 20 bottles was about the maximum they could take in one go as your body doesn’t cope well. Younger healthy people cope better but old ladies have hearts attacks apparently (my listening skills were failing me a little during the procedure). At 20 Mr R said he would like to try for a few bottles more but I could tell him when I wanted to stop. I just about managed to say “20 bottles ago!”, but if it meant a better outcome I would stand a couple more. So, I think we made it to 23. So, I was told that the worst was over, that when the needle came out I would feel nothing but relief. They lied again! I cried out again and this time lay there absolutely sobbing. I’m sure the scene was very pretty, me in blue paper gown sobbing and shaking with dildocam still waggling in my nether regions! Dear me!

It was over though. Still scanning my abdomen you could see the fluid still there, in fact Mr R pointed out my fallopian tube floating about in it, but my stomach was already noticeably smaller. The fluid could return but at this point should be seeping in more slowly and all the while my body would be recovering from the hyper-stimulation anyway because I’m not pregnant.

I was left to be slowly raised over half an hour or so, and to not get up til I was totally ready in my own time. I’m not sure anyone wanted me fainting again! I immediately felt I could take a full lungful of air and at least had the feeling there was a little room for food.

Hopefully we are now over the worst and all energies can go towards stressing about that elusive test date!