This blog is not intended to provide legal advice, legal services or legal anything else. Don't sue me. All I have is debt anyway.

Wednesday, September 5, 2007


Again, not a day I expected.

7:50 a.m.: arrived at High Risk Ghetto Clinic
8:30 a.m.: taken back into ultrasound room
9:00 a.m.: advised that in one week's time, the fetus had become hydroptic
9:30 a.m.: after a lot of panicking, called Children's Hospital one hour north to let them know we needed immediate consultation.
10:00 a.m.: amnio. have mild freak-out during it as room gets warm and spinny.
11:00 a.m.: waiting around for genetic counselor that is, of course, late
11:30 a.m.: got call from Children's Hospital saying we needed to come immediately to get an MRI.
11:45 a.m.: went to the law school to advise the deans that I would not be in class the rest of the week and there's a very good chance I won't be finishing the semester
12:00 p.m: got home to pack a bag and find the closest body piercer who can remove my metal jewelry
12:30 p.m.: jewelry changed, bag packed, and on our way to Children's Hospital
1:30 p.m.: arrived at Children's Hospital
2:00 p.m.: trying to find a way to get to the parking garage because there is apparently a terrorist threat including an abandoned baby bottle. Code Orange.
2:30 p.m.: set up for the MRI. freak out slightly when they put the movie goggles on me, which made me feel incredibly claustrophobic. Went with the crappy "easy listening" music instead.
3:30 p.m.: go upstairs to Fetal Surgery Clinic to figure out what will happen tomorrow. Doctors and nurses are all in surgery, but one comes out to tell me that they need to give me a steroid injection today and to stick around.
4:00 p.m.: barely taste crappy food in hospital cafeteria
5:00 p.m.: have another ultrasound because apparently High Risk Ghetto clinic didn't get the correct numbers (which is why we had allowed ourselves to be optomistic because according to the numbers, our chances of developing fetal hydrops were really low). Apparently someone can't do math. We were in much worse shape than we thought last week, hydrops was only a matter of time, and it definitely didn't take long.
6:00 p.m.: we leave Children's and head to our friends' ghetto apartment, across the street from the University Hospital, where they will be performing an outpatient surgery. The doctor said it was urgent enough that he was skipping his kid's soccer game to stick yet another a needle in my belly to attempt to drain fluid from the cysts and hope to relieve the hydrops. If it doesn't keep long, the second surgery would be installing a shunt. If the fluid doesn't come back very quickly, then they would do the same thing again, just drain it. If neither procedure ends up working, there are some much more invasive procedures, that involve more digging into my stomach.
7:00 p.m.: attempt surgery. I have panic attacked, and have to be sedated. However, even after numbing my belly, the kid won't cooperate and won't stay in a position where they can get to the cyst. Surgery rescheduled for tomorrow. Steroid shot in the ass.

I just have no idea what our chances are. We don't have much time left to decide to terminate the pregnancy, which will be something we need to discuss. We really didn't think we would have to consider it. I mean, as long as the kid has a fighting chance, I want to give it to him. But if we're just prolonging the inevitable, it seems inhumane to continue. The baby is very sick, and in distress.

We're spending the night with our friends, and going back tomorrow to Children's for a round of EKG, level II ultrasound, this surgery, a bunch of other stuff, and financial counseling. I have a feeling they aren't going to feel too bad about screwing a graduate nursing student and a law student with a household income of $65,000.00 and who own property. Sure, we're not impoverished. Yet. Just wait until we get the bill for all of this.


LL said...

Oh my god, what a day- I'm so sorry. I think about you all the time. Keep us posted as you're able. You sound so strong in your post.

Shelley said...

I am so sorry this has landed on you in such a rush. You must be in such a daze as you go from Point A to Point B and test after test. Adrenaline keeps you going, but please don't be afraid to reach out for help when you need it.

We're pulling for you over in Portland!

Henny Penny said...

I am so sorry.

lbarrett said...

Sorry doesn't begin to express how I feel...it's just not fair. I just wanted you to know we love you.

PT-LawMom said...

Huge (((HUGS))). I am so sorry! Praying for you all. Take it from a sickie. No matter what the stupid financial counselors tell you, as long as you pay something every month (even a little), you'll be all right. Don't let them stick you up. They'll always tell you they need 3 equal payments or some crap like that. Send them $100/month. They'll live.

CM said...

I am so sorry, too... good luck with whatever decision you make.

Kim said...

I'm so sorry and I'm thinking about you.

Butterflyfish said...


its all i've got