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 Ced.ar.s - 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.
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4 comments:
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.
My heart goes out to you, and I also hope that you find the answers you seek.
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.
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.
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