It was certainly not how I had planned to spend my Friday evening. Laying in a triage bed while nurses and a doctor worked to try and figure out exactly why it was that an otherwise healthy 32 year old with a perfectly normal pregnancy was bleeding like she was on her period wasn't ever high on my list of Friday night to dos.
I had been relaxing on my couch, watching old episodes of ST:TNG, when the restless part of me suggested a "late night" tea run. Peet's in Santana Row was open until 11 and I wanted to do SOMETHING. I stood up to hit the restroom before we left. At 8 months pregnant, that's normal. My life is the restroom. I felt something odd though. A rush. Something I hadn't felt for months. I assumed it was nothing. Yes, I had been having some very significant cramping and discomfort in my right side, for the past 20-30 minutes, maybe more, but I'm carrying a kiddo that never stops moving. You get used to discomfort. I remember mentioning it to my husband and explicitly stating that it did NOT feel like pre-term labor. Famous last words.
I got to the restroom suspecting nothing and looked down.
"Oh shit." I said, "That's a lot of blood."
And it was. I stared for just a moment, allowing my mind to take in that something had gone very wrong and then reacted. Get cleaned up, get a pad, get to the doctor. Panic is for suckers, we need to move.
There are few things people wish to hear less on an otherwise calm Friday night than, "Call 911. I'm bleeding and there's a lot of blood," but that's exactly what my husband heard when I poked my head around the corner. He stopped and stared. I'm pretty sure all color left his face, but I can't say I was paying much attention. I just wanted him to get the phone. He said OK, then stopped and pointed out that all calling would do was summon and ambulance, and we have a ER RIGHT HERE, so let's just go. Sound plan. Does it take our insurance? He looked at me like I was nuts. Sure, I'm bleeding, and stuff going wrong and my first thought is "will we be covered?" Welcome to modern American health care.
We grabbed a few things, a jacket, my bag and him, not sure how much or how quickly I was bleeding, a lot of towels and headed out. The ER is literally a 5 minute drive away, but with all the construction going on, it took us a good 15-20 minutes just to figure out where the hell to go. My husband was panicking. I tried to keep him calm, even as I realized I was having real contractions in the car. I make a lot of jokes about pooping out a kid, but let me tell you, that's how a contraction feels. Like you have to take the biggest most urgent shit you've ever had in your life and you need to do it NOW. I knew better than to push, but man, what a feeling. After flagging down an ambulance driver and finally locating some small parking lot with a big red emergency sign, we made our way into the ER. "Let me do the talking, " I said. It was a busy night in the ER. People were everywhere in various states of boredom and distress. Some guy wandered by holding his side looking like an alien might pop out of it. I felt bad, knowing I was going to skip to the head of the line in front of him, but that's how it works. We walked to the registration desk. The woman looked at my belly and said "How many months?"
"Eight."
"And why are you here?"
"I'm bleeding. A lot."
"Can you walk? Follow me."
Sorry alien side guy, but I don't think they handle appendix issues where I am going.
We were lead to Labor & Delivery and left to check in. Here the hilarity began. No I hadn't been here before, no not under any name and no, really I am not in your files. The two ladies at check in wrestled with a brand new computer system, arguing about how to use it and generally driving my poor husband nuts as they dithered about, rather than getting me to a doctor. It took a good 20 minutes to finally get checked in. We were both annoyed, but I played it off because, well look, nothing is changing and we just have to roll with the circumstances we have. I need him calm too. Someone needs to make sure he's alright. I have doctors that will fix my problems but he's all alone.
Finally, I am led to a triage room. Bleeding? Ok. Hey go give us a urine sample and all that OK? We'll see what's going on.
Well, ok, but I don't think this is going to go how you guys expect it to.
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