The above title, is an understatement. It has been one of the worst weekends we have had in a long time. Let’s start with Friday…
Callie gets a phone call. Her aunt Jasmine’s partner Brittany (they’ve been together for 35+ years, but no one really knows even though it’s INCREDIBLY obvious) is very sick. And she’s in hospital. For 2 months she hasn’t been able to walk. She has a very intense and severe phobia of doctors. She doesn’t go. Ever! She’s been sleeping on the couch, groaning and crying out in severe pain, not able to move, urinating in a bedpan, until finally Callie’s dad (who has known them since he started dating Callie’s mom and they were only about 11years old) went to their home, carried her like a baby out of the house, crying and screaming in agonizing pain, and took her to the emergency room. They did tons of scans (a fear of an MRI and claustrophobia made it difficult) and after a night at the hospital, a diagnosis. Breast cancer, ovarian cancer, Cancer in the lymph nodes. It’s everywhere. Completely metastasized. Stage 4. Very aggressive. Not much time. 2 fractured vertebrae, fluid all along the spinal column. On the pelvis. It’s bad, friends. Really bad. I’m actually sitting in the hospital while I write this because this morning we got a call that, well, maybe she wouldn’t make it past the night. But the oncologist showed up and gave everyone hope. Lots of hope. He’s gonna give her chemo and radiation and fight it as aggressively as the cancer is. But then her lungs filled with fluid and then collapsed, and now she’s on a ventilator, and we’re all just…just…praying, and hoping, and keeping faith. It’s all we can do. And I’m waiting to go in there to sing to her, one of her favorite songs, so she knows I’m there (“My Wish” by Rascal Flatts which she dedicated to all of her nieces and nephews, including me)…and that in these 5 years that Callie and I have broken bread with them every Thanksgiving, I love her. I’m her niece, and I love her. And I pray…for her and for all of us because this shit is hard.
Saturday morning Levi wakes up after a night of coughing with a cough that would make a 3 pack a day smoker cringe. It was pretty terrible. He was running a bit of a temperature, so we have him a little tylenol and went about our busy day. For periods he would go without coughing so we though, “well, maybe he is being a little dramatic like the pediatrician says” (true story!). But another sleepless night with lots of whining and coughing and we took him to the pediatrician straight away. Sure enough, our little guy has bronchiolitis. At least it’s not asthma. So we have to give him Albuterol treatments with the nebulizer, every 4-6 hours as needed, but the cough has gotten much better. Much much better! So some good news after bad news. I will say though, he has not been happy. At all!
Then, to add insult to injury, this…
Last night, Callie and I were getting busy for a little bit after a 6 week dry spell. Between being exhausted, sick and teething babies, weekends away and nights on the boat, there just really hasn’t been time (or sex drive). But last night!!!!???? YASSSS to last night, except after we were done, we were laying in bed laughing, and I felt like, “Holy Shit! That feels like blood!” And wouldn’t you know, I quickly realized that I was laying on a puddle of blood the size of a Frisby. I completely lost it! I run into the bathroom and immediately jump into the bath tub because in the 5ft from our bed to our bathroom, blood had run down my legs leaving droplets all over the floor. I ran my hands between my legs and literally had collected a pool of blood in the palm of my hand. No words can describe the fear that went through my body. I was petrified.
“Babeski, I have to go to the hospital right now! Like right now!!!”
“Calm down love. Don’t worry! It happened to me and everything is gonna be okay, okay?!”
“I don’t wanna go to the hospital! I don’t want bad news! I don’t want an IV!!!”
“We have to go love, just in case something is wrong. Just in case, something isn’t wrong. We need to know!”
And so we made our way to the hospital. I go right in, tell them I’m 9 weeks pregnant, get my bracelet, and wait 15 minutes before we are called in (must be a record!). They take my vitals (blood pressure was pretty high), put in the IV, draw blood, and send me right off to ultrasound. I was told to empty my bladder, and take my underwear off and lay on the table. She was taking a really long time with the transvaginal ultrasound. I was getting nervous, and she wasn’t saying anything! So I asked her if everything was ok. She said she couldn’t tell me anything. I had to wait for the radiologist to look at the images. I immediately started crying.
“Well, (puts her hand on my knee)ni can tell you this much. Baby is still there and it has a heartbeat of 171. Unofficially, it looks ok, but it could change, so wait for radiology. Are you 9w2d along?!”
(Through tears) “Yes, ma’am…I…I…I…am”
“Ok, sweetie. Looks ok, ok?”
So I was wheeled back into my ER room, and fell asleep for about an hour and a half (it’s now 2am) and Callie woke me up to let me know rnt at the Dr. was here. Everything was ok! Thankfully! Little Biscuit was ok, and that’s all I needed to hear. She followed that with Subchorionic hematoma. So one more thing to add to the list of what could potentially complicate this pregnancy. High BP, high glucose and now SCH. Great!
Ladies and gentleman, not a good weekend, and an even shittier start to the week. These past 3 days have been tough. Real tough. But prayers and positive energy are always welcome. I’ll keep you posted….
(Please excuse the spelling errors)