We came home to get some things. I was hopped up on drugs so at least able to give a good face to the girls. I told Lily that silly Mommy had eaten something bad and hurt her tummy and would have to go stay with the doctor until we figured it out. Her watery brown eyes were so concerned. She was terrified of seeing me in pain. I was tortured by her seeing me that way. Virginie, on the other hand, just kept calling my name. "Mommy! Mommy? Maman. Mommy, mommy, mommy." She smiled at me and reassured me everything would be alright. That is how I chose to read her chatter. I worried for her. We'd meant to start weaning her, but this would be rather abrupt and I worried about Didier handling her screams in the night. She is so small, no matter that she talks our faces off, and it brought tears to my eyes to think of her alone in the night missing me. And my boobs.
When we arrived at Bayview Hospital, they were indeed waiting for me. It seems there were very few people on the ward and I was new and exotic. I got tucked into bed, hooked up to an IV, kissed my beautiful family goodbye and was left staring out the window at a rainy Barbados, wondering just how the hell I ended up here. I have never been a fan of hospitals, since being left for two weeks as a five year old at Freehold Area Hospital with an undiagnosed gastrointestinal disorder, and this situation was no different. I missed my family before they'd left the parking lot. As I hit the call button to get someone to quickly give me a barf bowl, I had to admit that there really was no other place for me that night. I needed to be there. My IVP (intravenous pyelogram) was scheduled for the morning some time and I was to just catch up on rest and prep for the test.
I watched TV. I read my book. I read the pamphlets about the hospital and all the things they'd expected me to bring along with me. My own towel, soap, shampoo, toothbrush, toothpaste, pajamas/gown, clothes. I'd done OK with most of the list, but my own gown and towels? soap? I used my facial soap to wash my body and had some breathsaver brushes in my pocketbook that, though designed for a night out at the club and a quick tooth brushing before making out with a stranger, did the trick. Dinner of clear broth, jello, and juice was brought to me and was quickly vomited. This was exhausting. Sleep came in fits and starts, as I was a little afraid and lonely and wondered what was happening back at the ranch.
I'd experienced being away from Didier before and that is hard enough. But being away from the girls was just too much, especially Virginie because she is the baby. We'd never been apart and I missed her soft fat little knees and baby curls. I laughed when I thought of the only time I'd ever been away from Lily and that was when Virginie was born! She'd come to see me the next day in the same outfit as the day before with her hair looking positively wild. I missed her. I wanted her to tell me something funny.
The next morning there was breakfast. Followed by a quick vomit and then the scheduled IVP. For the IVP, a dye is injected into the IV that highlights any obstructions in the ureters, kidneys, or bladder and helps determine the size, shape, and then next course of action. For all that falling down, twisted eyebrow, continuous vomiting, my stone was found to be the size of the head of a ballpoint pen. Say what? I thought I was dying. What the heck would I have done if the thing had calcified and was as big as a marble? I am determined not to find out.
When my family came to visit with me that afternoon, Lily dressed in the clothes from the previous day and Virginie dressed as Heidi with green jellies on her feet, I called the doctor to find out our plan, get some results. He told me that I would have to pass the thing myself and that there was nothing more he could do for me other than review the slides from the IVP and give me some details and prescriptions for pain. So I went home. And though in pain and hopped up on drugs, still unable to nurse or really be of any help to Didier, I packed up my little suitcase, said goodbye to the ladies who had taken such good care of me and the orderly who checked me out since I walked in even though I wreaked of vomit and was swollen like a balloon, and rolled on home.
We never did see the stone in the strainer they gave me. Truth is, I was tired of holding it under me every time I had to go to the bathroom. I figured, if the stone was big enough, I would know it had passed. And it must have been small and passed undetected, because I slowly started feeling better, save the excessive swelling of my face, hands, legs, abdomen, and could stand upright and breath again. After a few days the swelling started to subside. I am starting to look and feel like me again.
I am drinking water. All the time. Lots of it. I might take bathroom breaks like an old lady, but I could not bear to experience that again. We aren't having any more kids, at least not planned, and I certainly do not want to experience childbirth again without the prize. I learned something that week. I am human. I am fragile. And I have to take care of myself too. I was felled by a tiny speck smaller than the head of a pen and my family rallied for me. I wasn't airlifted back home, off the island, as some had suggested. My home is with my family. And they are here. Here is home.
(c)Copyright 2010. City Mom in the Jungle.
