Holey Moley

Warning -- girlie inner bits discussion.

One of the reasons why I've been lying low in my bolthole is because I have been pregnant and very sick with it. It was a complete surprise to discover that I'd fallen pregnant -- only a week after consulting my gyno about fertility problems. But the pregnancy was trouble from day one. I felt about 50 years old, and I kept bleeding all the time -- even on my wedding day, which was the only small blemish in an otherwise perfect event. Still, if it was going to get us to parenthood, I managed to keep my chin up and hope.

Alas, this week it all went completely wrong. We discovered that while my body thought it was 10 weeks pregnant, and the gestational sac was still growing and sending me hormones, the embryo itself had died at 6 weeks and 1 day (so specific!) which means the bleed I had 2 days after the wedding was the culprit. Bummer.

So I went to hospital on Wednesday for a supposedly straightforward D&C. Unfortunately the doctor perforated my uterus -- not one, not two, but three times! He then did a laproscopropy to check that he hadn't perforated any other organs (thankfully not), so between that and the numerous holes made by sticking cannulas in lots of veins that kept collapsing, I have more holes in me than a piece of lace. The doctor said it was his first perforation (and you know that the first time always hurts!). Lucky me.

So I feel like shit. A laproscopropy involves blowing up the abdomen with carbon dioxide gas and sending a telescope through the navel. The gas side effects make your neck and back muscles freeze up for days and your navel gets restructured. I was very fond of my neat little 'inny'. I wonder if it will be as cute after the stitches heal... My gyno had put me on the waiting list to have a laproscopropy, so hopefully this one means that I don't have to do it again. I'll just get the two doctors comparing notes about the beauty of my inner organs.

We are meant to be driving up to Queensland next week to camp at the Woodford Folk Festival. I'm hoping I feel up to it. Best Beloved has assured me that we won't leave unless I'm able to travel. I want to go only because I'm so sick of being sick! I need some fun. Badly. I'd rather be sore in a car looking at Big Things (Prospectors, Prawns, Oysters) and then sitting listening to damn fine music than staring at the mess in my house post-builders. So by hook or by crook I'm getting to Woodford. Watch this space.