It all started at Walmart, or at least that’s where the pain set in.
I had just dropped Fojo off after my nephew’s soccer game and I had plans to buzz into the store for a few long-sleeved shirts. We’re going on vacation to the mountains this week and surely none of last season’s winter clothes would fit. Walmart also is one of the very few choices in town I have for maternity clothes, unfortunately.
On the way in I had to go the bathroom. It hurt and I was ancy, but as most pregnant women would do, I just put my eye on the prize. Of course, there would be a distraction, though. A homeless man needed help reading his receipt for an exchange and looking somewhat homeless myself after that soccer game, he assumed we were pals. It was OK, I never mind helping someone who is illiterate. Ever.
So I helped the man and I Richard-Simmons sped walked to the bathroom with a vengeance. Elbows up, ladies!
As I walked out, I saw the homeless man trying to exchange his dry erase board that he used instead of a cardboard sign. It was busted and he was pathetic. I thought to myself… I’m just going to go buy him a new one if they aren’t too pricey. So I walked to the back of the store briskly to check out the selection.
But as I found the aisle, a huge pain came over my body. Was this a cramp? Holy crap.
I kept walking. “I just need a cart to hold on to and carry this heavy purse,” I thought to myself.
So I got a cart.
Distracted by the long-sleeved shirts I initially came in for, I cut through the clothing department where the aches set in again. This time, however, I keeled over in pain. This wasn’t right. This was intense.
I called Fojo and told him to call his mom who is a nurse. I hung up and called my own mom. She said to dial 911. I wouldn’t do it.
As I pushed the cart trying to get to the front of the store, the pain got worse and worse with each step. By this point, tears were streaming from my face and I was bent over holding my back. A Walmart worker passed me and said “excuse me” as I struggled with the cart. He wasn’t there to help, though, I was just in his way. Nice.
I ditched the cart and made it to a bench, knowing Fojo was already on his way to come get me. I didn’t have time to wait, though. This was serious.
I hobbled out to my car and drove myself to the hospital screeching most of the way there in pain. If you saw a person going 65 mph down U.S. 1 last night, it was me. Sorry, speeding laws, we had bigger fish to fry.
I got there where Fojo was waiting for me and he helped me into the ER.
I’ll spare the ugly details of what happened inside, but the pain was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. It was sharp and constant, never letting up for even a moment. Was I in labor? Was I having a miscarriage? Just about every terrifying thought went through my head as I shifted in every position trying to get the pain to stop.
20 pricks later, they finally got me on a morphine drip. The pain was starting to fade away as I passed out to the sound of the baby’s heartbeat on the monitor. She was OK. I was OK. And literally nothing was more sooting than that heartbeat.
Turns out, I had a serious kidney infection. The kind that can come on in an instant and require hospital assistance. There was nothing I could have done to stop it. Scary, right?
Oddly enough, I had just had a doctor’s appointment that afternoon where a urinalysis was conducted… no signs then apparently. What I learned was how fast something like that can onset, and that alone is terrifying.
Thank God for the kind nurses at Parrish who re-explained everything to me once I was coherent again. I can’t express how wonderful they were to me, a person who has never been in a hospital for anything more than a visit.
To make a long story longer, hours later I was OK and the doctors had pumped enough antibiotics and pain meds into me to where I was able to leave. Thus began the adventure to CVS at midnight, where I swear at least three drug deals were going down in the parking lot, but I needed to get those scripts filled.
By 2 a.m. I was finally home. My poor husband had been through the wringer with me and he had to leave for class in just a few hours. Needless to say, he skipped the first class. He was amazing and I just couldn’t end this post without giving him credit for being by my side the whole time and really getting me through it. Granted, when I told him to distract me by talking about something, he talked about fantasy football (which I don’t understand at all whatsoever), but he tried really hard to be strong for me. I just love him and I can’t imagine going through something like that without him.
So that’s how I ended up in the hospital, marking the scariest night of my entire life. Forget aliens or ISIS or all the other weird things I’m ridiculously afraid of… nothing is more scary than thinking you are about to lose your child. Nothing.
Today, I begin my third trimester (8 months) and I’m just so grateful that it was an easy fix for the doctors and that the kidney infection did not onset early labor, something I later found out was possible. Sometimes, we have these experiences and I can’t help but think I had my guardian angel looking after me … a guardian angel who was DEFINITELY NOT that Walmart worker. Nice.
Side note: Thanks also to my parents who were there on the fly. Also, sorry dad for not thinking any of your jokes were funny last night. lol.