Friday, February 20, 2004
57 more days in bed. I am trying to tell myself that 57 days aren't much. "I can do this," I half-lie. Ugh. 57 days. I think I'd be dealing with it a little better if I felt totally healthy.
I still suffer from constant nausea. Yesterday I almost threw up. I got to the toilet and knew it was coming. "Oh please, please, don't let me puke, God!" My stomach rolled. Gurgle, gurgle. But I didn't throw up. At the last second it stifled itself. That is the closest I've come to throwing up from pregnancy nausea since the hospital. I have to eat constantly or I get sick. By dinner I am just ill. Sometimes I think I'll never be able to get it down, but down it somehow goes and then things get a little better. Is this how it is for normal pregnant ladies in that hackneyed "first trimester?" Is this what "morning sickness" is? I wouldn't know. I've never had it. Ugh. Gripe, gripe, gripe.
In addition to being in bed, being sore from being in bed, having bad digestion from being in bed, being nauseous (exacerbated by being in bed), I have had the nastiest taste in my mouth since the dawn of this pregnancy. It tastes like caustic metal. Caustic, mediciney metal. Yum. Will it ever go away? It's not what caused my ptyalism (inability to swallow spit without throwing up and needing to constantly spit in a cup), but it didn't help and it still sucks eggs.
Ptyalism. Ugh. It got so bad at one point that I had to sleep with a washcloth in my mouth. At one point I had a tube in each arm, a tube in my leg, a vomit basin by my head and a washcloth in my mouth soaking with viscid saliva all night long. That's how I slept! With alarms going off three times a night. BEEP! BEEP! My bag is empty! I need a new bag! Back to sleep for an hour. BEEP! BEEP! My Zofran is empty! I need a new syringe! Back to sleep for an hour. BEEP! BEEP! My CADD pump battery is dying! I need a new battery! Help, God, HELP! Barf, barf! I am literally getting teary-eyed remembering it. How did I ever get through that? How? It is a miracle. I was there: I know.
Am I going to need serious therapy to deal with having been through this illness this time? It is not as upsetting as "not" getting through a hyperemetic pregnancy, but this little pink passenger has taken me on a different trip! A long, lingering, traumatic trip. It really kind of freaks me out to look back at where I've been. I'm surprised, because in spite of the fact that no one died I'm still incredibly shell-shocked. What a fight! I am so tired of fighting.
When this is over, will I know what to do with myself? Will I know how to live again? I don't remember what it feels like to not be nauseous. I really don't. Will I know how to interact with people? Will I know how to go to the grocery store or drive down the street feeling safe, warm and happy? I just feel scared now. Scared of what hell life has to offer, what hell is lurking in the shadows. Illness-related post traumatic stress disorder, here I come.
