Wednesday, February 25, 2009


It's been two weeks since that impossible moment, that sudden silence when things went from breezy and chatty to some kind of weird library hush, just the clacking of keys and a few rustling noises as the u/s tech moved the probe against the paper drape. No staticky swish from the doppler. I could see the plain black nothingness where the heartbeat was supposed to be, but then the silence collapsed while nobody said anything. I think I was just desperate for some kind of explanation, some reason - I knew, I knew beyond any kind of doubt, but I couldn't say anything.

Tomorrow I have my post-op visit at the clinic. I suppose every city must have a place like this - hidden behind an ivy-covered wall, with buzz gates and security cameras. It had a zen-garden kind of feeling, very spa-like and calming. The doctor is committed to making sure that these services are available with the best possible quality of care, and I suppose I'm grateful that she left super-prestigious - S.i.nai (how's that for dots, Sky?) to run this place full-time. My own OB doesn't do second trimester d&e procedures because the hospital she is affiliated with just doesn't allow them. (Too closely related to second-trimester terminations.) They would have induced labor and had me deliver, which just sounds horrifying.

The people at the clinic couldn't have been nicer, although after a certain point I have no idea what really happened or how it all went. I was completely out for a long time, longer than I have ever been before. Hours. Although I don't know for sure. The anesthesia made everything so incomprehensible and meaningless that I have only the vaguest recollections of anything they said to me afterwards. I remember getting there at 11:00 and not leaving until after 5:00. At some point they hooked me up to the pulse-ox and the heart monitor, and then a valium IV, which didn't really seem to help, but possibly it might have been worse without it. Then the anesthesiologist introduced himself, and that's the last thing I remember.

So, I'll ask a lot of questions tomorrow, although I'm sure I won't get the sort of answers I'm hoping for. And I should stress that I'm not even looking for philosophical answers or anything profound. I just want the facts, but I suspect the facts are lost forever.


Nikki said...

This should not have ended this way Lorraine. It's so unfair and so wrong.

However zen like or spa like they make their clinics - one bad visit and everything numbs mentally into a continuum of events - none of which should be happening.

I'm sorry. Big hugs to you.

And good luck tomorrow. I hope they can get you some answers.

Midlife Mommy said...

My heart goes out to you, and I also hope that you find the answers you seek.

Lost in Space said...

I have been thinking of you so much over the last couple weeks, Lorraine. I'm so sorry, so angry, so sad for you. Lots of hugs, sweetie.

Shelby said...

Lorraine, I can only begin to fathom your heartache. I am keeping you constantly in my thoughts and am so, so sorry that this came to pass.

I do hope that after all you've been through, in the very least, you get a few answers.