I should have turned the car around and gone back for a sono. But you know how it is—I practically live in doctor’s offices, and I just didn’t want to go back. By the time I got home, a carload of groceries in tow, it was really hurting and I was starting to freak out. I managed to get the perishables away before I collapsed into bed, trying not to cry.
Here’s the thing. I’ve had pain like this before. JUST like this, though on the other side. And it landed me in the emergency room alone overnight with an ectopic pregnancy. (Story HERE for those interested in me crying a lot.) So while my rational side was saying that, four days after a 3-day transfer, there was no fucking way it could possibly be an ectopic pregnancy, the less rational side of me was thinking that there was no fucking way I was going to call my doc, who might send me to spend the day in the ER.
And the pain eased up quite a bit once I lay down on my right side, taking the pressure off Lefty. Which was totally not how an ectopic feels, so I felt safe enough in waiting it out. I figured it was probably a cyst or something that had burst, and the worst was over.
But that doesn’t mean I was fine with it. The thing is, I was out of work all of last week, and had been on bed rest for three days (two required by my RE, one precautionary on my own initiative), and Sunday was going to be my day to get things done, ease back into the real world, and get ready to get back to the office. And I REALLY wanted to get back into the office. Staying home is so isolating, and it makes me really insecure.
By Sunday evening, when J finally got home, the pain had eased a lot. A day in bed will do that, I guess. So I figured I’d call my nurse in the morning and see if I had to go in for a sono. I was feeling good enough Monday morning that I confidently told the nurse that the pain was gone, and both she and my RE agreed that it had probably been a cyst and I didn’t need to go in.
But on the way to work my ovary started twingeing again, and by the time I got there it was truly aching. By 11:00 I gave up, called my RE, and took a cab home to get my car so I could go in for my sono. Can I tell you how much I HATE going all the way to work, only having to turn around and go back? Especially because I’m trying to keep a low profile about all this, and I’ve already been out a week (with a couple of days working from home), and I don’t want people wondering if I’m dying or something. (“Something” being the endless speculation I imagine, during my more paranoid times, my co-workers engage in about whether I’m pregnant.)
The good news is this: From the sono we learned that my ovary isn’t twisted, it’s just HUGE (twice the size as Righty) and has fluid around it. From the bloodwork I’ve now learned that it isn’t bleeding, which was one concern. But it is seriously hyperstimulated, and I am on superstrict bed rest. So superstrict that this has been my first chance to even write about it (unlike many of you Carrie-Bradshaw-like cuties out there, I can’t type in bed—I require my ergonomic keyboard, carpal tunnel brace, etc. or I end up seriously hurting). In fact, since Monday afternoon, all I have done is lie down and try to sleep, or sit in my recliner (all the way reclined) and try to watch TV.
I am such a bad patient. I am bored out of my fucking mind! And my body, my poor poor body, needs to be UPRIGHT for god’s sake! Do you know what it does to your digestive system to be laid flat all the time? HEARTBURN! Do you know what it does to your brain to be parallel with your body for days on end? BRAIN FUZZ! Do you know what it does to your muscles to lie there limply for a week straight? ACHING RESTLESSNESS! And I really should have just given in and bought stock in Gatorade. Ugh. Who’d have thought I’d ever get sick of Gatorade???
And so much for keeping a low profile at work. I’m floating the whole “stomach flu” story (not for my boss, of course, but for those not in the know), but how many times a year can you use that one? (“Stomach flu” is my new code at work for “miscarriage.”)
I hate being stuck in the house like this. I feel totally disoriented and exposed at the same time, restless and worthless and paranoid. I just want to be able to go to work every day and do my job like a normal person. I feel like a circus freak. Me and my massive ovary.