I've been a bad blogger. My head is so full of thoughts and posts, but I am doing a spectacularly shitty job of making the time to get them down on paper. Mostly, I blame my work for this. I used to have lots of downtime there, but now I'm completely swamped and they are making me actually WORK (gasp!) during the day. Just who do they think they are?
Also, I still feel like hammered crap most of the time. The SeaBands help, and it seems that acupuncture helped but I need to get back for another session. Most days, I'm hurtin'. I've managed to stay puke-free for over a week, but still feel wretched most of the time. I asked for Zofran but was told that it helps quell the vomiting, yet doesn't help much with the nausea. (Karen, is this true?) I'm 10 weeks today, so I'm hoping that this all eases up soon. If not, then I will just deal with it because, damnit, I paid $10K to feel this shitty so I'm not going to complain! I have my first OB appointment on Wednesday, so I'm going to ask about Zofran again or whatever else it is they recommend.
Now on to the reason for the title of this post. I had one of those days today where I felt sorry for myself. I kept it all to myself, didn't complain out loud, but still wallowed in pity for a while. I'm sick of feeling shitty, I'm mad that I had to work so. damn. hard. to get pregnant, I'm pissed that so many wonderful friends of mine (that's you guys) have to struggle so hard to have babies, I'm disgusted that I had to manipulate my body (not to mention my bank account) into doing what should just come naturally, etc. You know the rest.
So I was sitting here feeling sorry for myself when I read an email from the CEO at my job. To fill you in, I work in a hospital. An inner city hospital. A Catholic inner city hospital. This means that we not only get the scum of the Earth crossing through our doors (thanks, inner city) but we cannot turn anyone away for any reason (thanks, Catholic nuns). I don't mind it most days, it makes me feel like we are actually making a difference in people's lives. But it also sucks because I see lots of horrendous situations -- like every time I pass the nursery where volunteers spend hours rocking the crack babies because the mothers messed them up so bad and then abandoned them.
Anyway, back to the email from my CEO. It seems that on Friday, some loser in our city stabbed his ex-girlfriend to death. This morning, the police arrested him. Yay! But before they could get him to the station, he started complaining of chest pains. They brought him to our hospital and he ended up in a room on the 10th floor. After fighting with the police officer, the murderer broke the window in his room and jumped out. Yes, JUMPED OUT OF A 10th FLOOR WINDOW. Needless to say, he died.
This is why I say it could always be worse. I could have been the woman who was stabbed by this loser. I could have been the police officer who saw him jump out of the window. I could have been a pedestrian on the sidewalk that he almost landed on. I could have been the person in the Emergency Department who had to go retrieve him from the sidewalk. It goes on and on.
Instead, I was at home, in my flannel pajamas, feeling sorry for myself because I don't want to burp vomit into my mouth anymore. Given the choice, I'll take vomurp every day.