Tuesday, March 17, 2009

The final stretch

It was the last leg of a very long race. In high school, I ran track. Mile relay and 400 m dash - I was not a long distance runner, but, one fateful trackmeet my coach so graciously signed me up for the 800 m dash. What's one more lap, right? Wrong! He told me to run it basically like I would the 400 m dash only to "save a little" for the second lap. Uh huh...you get the picture. Through the first lap I was in the front of the pack, but by the final 200 yards of the race, the monkey was on my back. Numb legs. Burning lungs. Full body ache. I finished 2nd to last out of 8 girls. Never again!

At this point in my pregnancy, the monkey was on my back. Or in this case I suppose my "front" would be more appropriate. I was HUGE and gaining weight (abnormally) by the day. Each day they would wheel in my friend the "scale" and I would waddle on. The scale and I had a love/hate relationship. I loved it because it was my one excuse to get out of bed and walk to the far end of my room. I hated it because every morning for the last week of my pregnancy I had gained 3-5 pounds a day. Each day, I would ask the nurse weighing me in "Is that normal that I am gaining that much weight from day to day?" They would say "Oh honey, you're having triplets and it is probably just fluid - it will go away." Hmmm... I wasn't so convinced, but again I gave them the benefit of the doubt. After all, I was no nurse I was just held captive by nurses. :)

At this point in my pregnancy, I was tired of visitors. I, for the first time in my life, didn't want to see anybody. I had had a steady flow of visitors from the time I checked into the hospital. But, that last week, I was in LABOR! My contractions had sped up tremendously and this time they hurt. I do not think that people that stopped in even noticed that I was really uncomfortable. They were strong enough to take my breath away at times and I was not into what had become a PDL - public display of labor. I had too much on my mind to have a decent conversation with anyone. Well meaning people wanted to talk about normal things and I just couldn't do that. My mind was filled to the brim with questions and concerns? Why was I gaining so much weight each day? Is my heart having trouble again? Are my babies going to be born healthy? I cannot take another day laying on my back! I hate, hate, hate, using a POTTY CHAIR!

Oh yes, how could I forget...at this point in my pregnancy, I was FORCED to use a potty chair. Yes, folks I used one and it was as demeaning in real life as you can probably imagine. The chair in itself was not so bad. It's the "chair etiquette" that made using the chair so difficult. See, healthcare professionals are use to things like potty chairs, bed pans, bed baths, and things of this genre. Regular ole' 24 year olds used to using the restroom in the privacy of their home are not. And might I add, that the bathroom in my room was only about 20 feet from the edge of my bed. That was TOO FAR and they had cut me off. I was no longer allowed those 20 steps of freedom. It was the potty chair for me. It was bad enough to have to use one in the first place, but the offense came when people came in the room to discuss my healthcare while I was ON the chair. No boundaries. Nurses, doctors, cleaning ladies - yeah they all busted in ALL the time. While you would expect them to say "oh excuse me I will come back" - they never did. Apparently, "chair etiquette" is not taught in medical school.