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May 15, 2000
Staining the Town Red

So, there I was. Resting comfortably on my wide, stained, off-white sectional sofa, heating pad on my belly, roach clip in my fingers, watching Kids in the Hall on Comedy Central. I thought I had everything under control, my body is my instrument, this time around I would bear my pain and miscarry at home.

I already was expected at the doctor's office the next day. If anything was needed done, I could do so then. Having already been through this once, I knew the pain would get bad, but I knew that immediately after everything was over there would be euphoria. My goal was to bear it with the knowledge that it would end soon enough. Makes sense to me.

Three hours later, having passed large amounts of tissue and clotting, I still couldn't move from the bathroom, much less try to wear a pad. Which I hate with a passion intense enough to burn an entire Tambrands factory. Fucking diapers on a grown woman. So there I sat, brokenhearted, paid my quarter when my bloodflow started.

I know, that just doesn't have the same ring as the original verse. Poetic license. Piss off.

Two or three hours later I limped into the living room and retrieved my portable and scampered back to the john, trying like hell not to leave a trail. I called Adam and told him to come immediately. I had passed my placenta and the pain hadn't stopped like it should've.

I know you want to know this. I had to take my ladle and a forked large spoon and retrieve the placenta from the bowl. It's needed for genetic testing later next week. It's currently residing inside of the dairy cubbyhole of my refrigerator.

When you are in pain so intense that you can form words, but there is nothing you can do to stop said pain, you must squirm. You must squirm and you must moan.

I moaned and squirmed down 400 North while Adam did his best ot to freak out all over the damned place.

Once we reached the hospital, Adam who had done so well up to this point, could not find the Emergency Room. I had to sit up and amidst the squirming and crying and screaming, I directed us to the Emergency Room. Little did I know that directly across the street from the hospital we were supposed to visit, is a Catholic with a capital "C" Emergency Room. I ruined their waiting room. Blood everywhere. Serves them right for making me wait. Could you have watched someone bleeding, sobbing, squirming and moaning, begging for something for the pain? Me neither. This was one of the weirdest experiences of my life. Too many odd things happened to mention them all, but here's the highlights.

• During my pelvic exams, Adam either was to leave the room or stand at the foot of the bed. If he hadn't seen my plumbing before I wouldn't have been there.
• When my blanket was lifted for any reason, say, one of my THREE GODDAMNED CATHETERS, male doctors and Adam were escorted from the room.
• During my vaginal ultrasound, the male doctor had a chaperone and asked me to insert the wand myself.
• When we came in, we forgot our rings that day, they were badgering Adam about his relationship to me. Once he finally said husband, everyone visibly relaxed, one nurse even said "Good."
• They had to call an ambulance to transport me ACROSS the street. This ambulance came from over 40 miles away to move me 50 feet.
• The mistakes they made are as follows;
  • Two catheters that somehow ended up in my vagina.
  • One punched vein that bruised so badly that it scared me everytime I glanced over.
  • I waited 30 minutes for pain medication.
  • The doctor "didn't realize" that I would require a transvaginal ultrasound to determine if there was residual tissue. Well, golly Dr. Fuckwit. Add another 45 minutes for abdominal ultrasound.
  • I was forgotten in the ultrasound room for an additional 30 minutes. The doctor who performed it ended up changing his clothes and clocking out, then "dropping" me off back up in Emergency on his way out.
  • Said doctor was not allowed to touch my evil woman parts, so when he removed my catheter he stood at the foot of the bed and told me to take a deep breath before pulling on it from afar. This hurt. This really fucking hurt.
  • I haven't mentioned the worst thing yet. This entire time, this entire fucking time, not once did someone give me a pad. Three or so hours into it, I made Adam steal me a few extra towels and made myself an odd little sumo thing. It worked too.

I finally emerged from this place and got to the goddamned Hilton of Emergency Room's, I do have incredible insurance. My doctor's office on call doctor was on her way and all the sudden they were prepping me for surgery. A nurse was fucking with my i.v. and before I knew it blood was spattering all over. There was a smattering of folks running in and out for awhile. My mother called, she was on the road, a few hours away from Atlanta. A well timed previously planned trip, she had been driving since 8:00 that morning, and it was creeping up on 11:00 p.m.

Just before they wheeled my into the operating room my Dad ran in, so we chewed the fat while I tried to relax. I have a difficult time with general anesthesia. You are placing all of your control into someone elses hands.

This sounds trite, but separated from my father and Adam, inside of that sterile room I was surrounded by a staff of women, entirely... I cried and told them I was scared. Then just before I fell asleep I looked up and I could swear even now that they were each mothers to me. Each of them touched me, a hand holding mine, comfort, trust.

Then I woke up. I felt good. I reached my hands between my legs and felt a pad. They sent me home with Percocet. Amen.

Further adventures of my vagina to come.