More Cosmo Cricket Hugs!

Sunday was bad. Sunday, I was an overly emotional wreck. Sunday, I vomited and then I cried. And then I started crying so hard I vomited. And then I threw up a few more times for good measure and sobbed as the pregnancy hormones ran smack dab into dehydration and HOLY CATS I WAS A MESS!

So I posted about my sad, sad state on the Hyperemesis Gravidarum website, and although they all totally got where I was coming from, a few said, “Honey, you sound really dry. . .time for IV fluids.” And I said, “but. . .but. . .I kept down water today! I can still see my veins. . .well, kinda”. And then I got a migraine and as the night progressed I went from pathetic to miserable to too dizzy to drive myself to the ER.

Chris drove, and it was a good thing I at least had the sense to let him do that because I passed out half way into the ER and he carried me into the waiting room and got me all squared away. Turns out I was dehydrated. Not that I haven’t been more dehydrated, but I really needed some fluids. The trouble was I just could not stop vomiting, even after giving me two doses of Zofran, which is usually my miracle drug. The doctor wanted to give me Phenergan right off the bat, and I resisted. The Zofran has always worked better, and Phenergan really messes me over.

About the third time I was heaving the lining of my stomach into a bag he walked by and said, “Can I please give you some Phenergan?”

And I said, “ANYTHING!” And then I asked for morphine, which he was actually willing to give me, but I figured that would probably put me completely out of reality for much longer than that was healthy, given my usual reaction to narcotics. Turns out I didn’t need narcotics to get totally snookered.

They put A LOT of Phenergan in my IV, and true to fashion, it BURNED. And then the room went fuzzy. And then I felt myself fall backward on the pillow and succumb to a somewhat passed out version of slumber, punctuated every few seconds by my legs jumping uncontrollably.

It was at this point that the people in the ER decided to try to talk to me. Now, I know what I was saying, but I’m guessing that I was slurring the consonants right out of my vocabulary because they made me repeat everything at least four times.

“Ahhhhmtrdcnigrrrrhmmmmm?”

“Excuse me, ma’am?”

“Ahhhhmmm trrd. Cnnn ahh goo hmm?”

“Could you repeat that please?”

“Ahm trrrrrd. Caaaaan ahhh go hommmmm?”

“Not until the doctor discharges you.”

“fnnnnnnnnn.”

A few minutes later (ok, honestly it could have been hours. I have no idea.) the tech tells me that I can go home just as soon as I can walk around the ER and not pass out. I’m sure I replied with something unintelligible, but I was thinking, “Seriously? You want me to walk? Do you have any idea how doped up I am?” However, I really wanted to go home. I was so thrashed that all I could think about was my bed. So I rolled myself off the gurney with a blankie wrapped around my shoulders and began to hobble around the ER.

The tech stays very close, and I notice that everyone in the ER is watching me, including the old man in the bed next to me and the patient at the end of the hall. Then I realize why.

I am not walking forward. I am walking two steps sideways, one step forward, half step to the left, sway back on my heels, repeat! It hits me that for all intents and purposes, I am drunk. Very, very, about to pass out in the gutter drunk. It takes awhile, but I am determined and manage to get back to where I started. I can walk. Sort of. They discharge me.

Chris takes me home. Not only is it nearly one am, but I am still barely able to communicate. I attempt to convey my garbled thanks, and then pass out as soon as I hit the sheets.