Endless Waiting

Well, surgery never happened yesterday.

At 11:45am, I arrived at the hospital (hungry, as you can’t eat anything after 7am), and waited for 45 minutes. Then they put me in a room, did my blood pressure, pulse and O2 sat and asked me to put on the hospital gown.

After that I was moved to a very small waiting room. It had three chairs in it and would probably be best described as a cupboard. Another lady was shown into the cupboard and there we both sat, in silence, for 2 hours.

At that point (it was 3:30pm), we were told that the theatre had been overrun with emergencies and that we probably wouldn’t be seen today. We had the option of staying on, with a chance we might be seen by 8:30pm.

The other lady went home, rebooked in for the next day (today).

I sat there, paralysed by what to do. The boys were at home, I’d wanted to be back for their bedtime. Did I want to face another wait tomorrow? Should I wait it out tonight? Would the surgeon (or doctor, or whatever they were), be exhausted and prone to mistakes if I was tagged on right at the end of the day?

As I was pondering all this, close to tears, the nurse returned and said they had opened another theatre and I would be able to go into that one.

She then said she had a bed, and I was shown to a ward.

Ten minutes later the doctor came to see me. Not the one I was originally booked in with. Another doctor, from somewhere, that was going to take up the surplus in the new operating theatre.

She was the one who was going to perform the surgery.

She didn’t know this was my seventh miscarriage overall. She didn’t know that the baby was to be sent off for testing. She didn’t know about my history of haemorrhaging from the uterus. She didn’t know I’d had two blood transfusions and refused a third.

I asked her about my increased risk for this procedure and she listened, and said:

“What else are you going to do?”

I blinked. I said I was worried about miscarrying at home, but I was also scared of bleeding heavily during the operation. So she asked me how I was going to miscarry at home and manage two small children.

Again, I wasn’t sure what to say.

What I wanted her to do was talk me through it. To tell me there might be an increased risk of bleeding, but that it would be effectively managed, to tell me that this procedure wasn’t going to kill me, or leave me with no uterus. I wanted to feel confident that she would look after me.

She said yes, I was at increased risk of bleeding, but my only other choice was to have the miscarriage at home.

I started to get upset, I tried to explain my fears to her, I could feel the tears forming in my eyes. And then I realised she was smiling at me. She was nodding at me while I was talking with a huge grin on her face. I stopped mid-sentence.

Is something funny?
Why are you smiling?
<No response. She carries on smiling.>
Do you think this is funny? You’re smiling at me!
I’m just listening and thinking about what you are saying.

I took a deep breath and finished whatever I’d been saying. At that point I gave up. This woman obviously had no training in bedside manner.

She walked off.

I sat on the bed and cried.

And then I got up, got dressed and walked out.

I called a taxi and went straight home.

I couldn’t have let that woman operate on me. I didn’t know how many times she’d done the procedure (unlike the doctor I was originally booked in with, who does it daily). She seemed totally incapable of appreciating how I was feeling, or explaining the risks to me in a way I could process and weigh up. Not only that but she told me that scarring is only a risk if you have the procedure done two or three times and studies now show that this is untrue. There is up to a 30% chance of scarring from just ONE surgical management of miscarriage.

I have no fucking idea what I’m going to do now. I briefly spoke to the nurse before I left and she said to call back and book in if I change my mind, that won’t be a problem.

My husband needs to go back to work, I have two boys to look after, I have to get this baby out somehow.

I don’t want to be in this situation. I am frightened for my life. Do I bleed out in surgery, with the risk of a punctured uterus, damage to my bowel, maybe lose my uterus, possibly worse, maybe end up with a doctor or surgeon who panics, or makes a wrong decision, all the while I am unconscious. Or do I bleed at home and transfer to the hospital like I did last time?

This is an impossible decision.

Statistics mean nothing to me because with 7 miscarriages, 2 severe PPH, 2 blood transfusions and 1 near-fatal haemorrhage from a miscarriage, I am already an anomaly.


Bury head in sand?

I’ve just read this post back, and seriously, you’ve got to wonder why the fuck I would ever have tried for another baby. I am obviously completely bat-shit crazy. Who would ever do this to themselves??

12 thoughts on “Endless Waiting”

  1. 🙁
    i am so sorry to hear this Rose
    If it is of any help, i too suffer with the heavy blood loss and after Alex i had severe hemoragging.
    After this suction D&C i thought i would hemorage and the first hour or two i thouight it was bad but it all subsided and was fine.
    Sometimes iìt doesn’t go as we fear. Thank goodness.
    I would not risk miscarrying at home. I think it wil be managed better in hospital.

  2. Poor thing. You made the right choice in that situation, but not sure what to do now. I probably already told you I had 5 m/c – 3 of them were d&c and 2 happened naturally. Also have 4 kiddos – so you’re not crazy for trying. It’s a process – you’ll get through it. Hang in there.

    • I often think of you having all those mc after your first. I don’t know how you got through it. Sometimes it feels like every mc I have just makes me want more children… it’s crazy.

  3. I’m so sorry Rose, what was up with her grin! I wanted to smack her!! I think you should get in with your other doctor to talk through all of these concerns. Hoping your main doctor is a bit more caring considering the circumstances.

  4. First, I have to say I am glad you wrote this because I was thinking about you all day wondering how things were going. Obviously, this is not the update I was hoping for, because OMG that doc is crazy! That’s just not right. I agree you definitely did the right thing yesterday. As for where to go from here, I agree that you should get in touch with your main doctor again ASAP to discuss in further detail. I”m no doctor, but I would still think, despite your very real, very legitimate fears, that you are likely better off not waiting this out at home, but going to the hospital and getting the best possible care. That wacko doctor from yesterday is the exception, not the rule, plus you can specifically request she NOT be assigned to you for anything while you are there. But from a practical point of view (during an incredibly emotional time), my personal feeling is you should probably go ahead with what the doctors recommend. You are right that you are faced with an impossible choice, during an incredibly difficult time, but if nothing else, you need to take the best possible care of yourself for the sake of your two precious boys. Stay strong, sending you love and hugs. xoxo

    • Yes, exactly. I keep putting the boys at the top of all this and it points to the surgery. Gawd, what a week. I am so tired! Thank you for your support, reading these messages keeps me going and knowing that even if I can’t discuss this at all with my friends or family, there are people out there who really do understand this craziness. X

  5. Rose, this decision is yours, but I strongly urge you to get to a hospital. Whatever the worst case scenario is in the hospital setting, my mind tells me that is a safer environment for you than the possible worst case scenario at home, without medical professionals nearby.

    I’m so sorry you have to go through this.

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