Yesterday I took the advice of my good friend, bit the bullet, and went back to see my doctor (who I had been affectionately referring to as “Doctor Doom” in my head) instead of running away like the little girl I am.
I dislike confrontation, particularly with doctors. Doctors intimidate me. I’ve only had two doctors in the course of my adult life that I’ve loved, trusted and felt comfortable with. One was the doctor at UD; the other was the OB who delivered Sienna and who I still go see every time we’re in Dallas. All other doctors somehow manage to make me feel like I’m doing something wrong for being sick/pregnant/migrainous (is that a word? It is now.). So usually when I feel that I can no longer see a certain doctor, I just switch doctors. Like a wimp. Without ever telling them why.
But yesterday, my friend said to me:
and I did, because I didn’t want to look like even more of a wimp than I already did.
I’m glad I did, too, because “Doctor Doom” turned out to be not so doom-ey after all.
I told her that the other night was hands-down the worst hospital experience I had ever had, and then explained what had happened when she looked confused. As it turns out, the nurse did not communicate my doctor’s instructions (which had included explanations for why she was ordering certain medications) at all, and the nurse also didn’t communicate anything I was saying back to my doctor.
My doctor had wanted to start with Imitrex even though she knew it probably wouldn’t work because 1) I had never had it before, 2) it’s always better to try a non-narcotic first, and 3) she wasn’t sure just how bad my migraine actually was. When I started throwing up, the nurse’s garbled communications had made my doctor think that it was a result of the migraine, not the Imitrex. The doctor was worried that the migraine was much worse than she initially feared, so she instructed the nurse to offer me the option of more Imitrex (which probably wouldn’t work) or morphine (which she felt was necessary). She also explained that it was a very small dose of morphine, comparable to about 2 hydrocodone (which is the narcotic I’m used to being given in emergency rooms), just without the Tylenol. None of which explanations were relayed to me, obviously. She also said she hadn’t wanted me to go home with a sleeping pill because my blood pressure was, in fact, elevated (which the nurse did not tell me) and she wanted to keep it down and keep me from driving the hour back to Ave Maria in that much pain, which she didn’t think was safe.
So the nurse wasn’t exactly the best (though she had nothin’ on Heath Ledger’s JokerNurse). My doctor was very apologetic, agreed that I likely had a sinus infection, and promptly wrote me prescriptions for antibiotics, first-line migraine meds, and painkillers for breakthrough pain. She also said I could take ibuprofen until 35 weeks (yay!).
All in all, I’m really glad I went in yesterday, because I woke up this morning with a killer sore throat and if I wasn’t already on antibiotics I would not be a happy person.
Tragically, though, I can’t spend the day on the couch whining raspily about my throat because I pinky-promised Charlotte that I’d take them to the children’s museum today, and we need to go to Trader Joe’s. So as soon as I finish these quick takes I’ll be hitching up the covered wagon and making the long haul into town.
We have a Lincoln Navigator. This is pretty much exactly what it looks like, except ours is way dirtier. Also, we finally decided on what to name the baby. (Well, I decided and the Ogre sort of grunted in a “yes” kind of way.)
Why are these two facts related? Because if we somehow found the money to buy a Sienna minivan, we would have two children named after cars.
I find that disconcerting, but I’m going to blame the car manufacturers for choosing human names for automobiles.
Seriously, what happened to names like “Model T” or “Dodge Ram” or “DeLorean”? No one’s going to name their kid “DeLorean.” But Lincoln and Sienna are names! Of actual people! Who I grew in my uterus! It’s annoying.
I’m totally stoked that this movie is coming out the same year that our Lincoln will be making his appearance. This movie is like someone said, “how could we possibly make Lincoln more awesome?” and someone else said, “I know! We could make him a vampire hunter!” and then they actually did it.
Those sorts of speculative conversations are usually born over a beer or five and then die shortly after. But this one lived, and has become a movie, and made my life better before I’ve even seen it.
I can’t wait.
In case you were wondering, this child will also have an extraordinarily long and cumbersome name. We’re just sadistic like that.
It’s a nice name though, I think, objectively speaking.
Are you ready to hear it? I was going to wait until after the baby was actually born, but I can’t keep secrets. I’m even going to write it in a pretty font because I like it so much.
Lincoln Anthony Jude Alexander
What do you think? If you don’t like it, please lie.
Go and see Jen for more quick takes, and have a great weekend!