in which the gd gd becomes a real mf
are you tired of hearing about the gd gd? because lord knows, i sure am.
nonetheless, i'm chronicling life in the aftermath of hans's death, and this gd gd is the biggest feature of it at the moment, so i'm going to keep talking about it. don't say i didn't warn you.
i arrived at the perinatal gd clinic already emotional from my weird dream and my aching tailbone and lack of sleep, which didn't help. if i had a dollar for every time i've cried today (including well-ups and voice break-ups), milo's college fund would be off to a nice start.
the gd clinic is inside the hospital's ob clinic for patients without insurance, and so it is (unfairly) a very different environment from the practice where i see my regular ob, right next door. the desk staff is imperious and condescending and unnecessarily brusque, which just pisses the crap out of me (try to picture that miracle of modern science!); it pisses me off to be treated rudely in the first place, and it pisses me off that they treat their patients generally without respect. the aide that took my vitals wasn't much better; she acted like i was a giant imbecile to not know that after i pricked my finger and squeezed out some eau de lauralu that i was to wipe it away, squeeze again, and then test that sample.* well, thanks to my insurance adventures last week, no one actually showed me how to do it, and you don't even want to get me started on the horribly illogical paperwork that came with the glucometer (someone hire those people a real technical writer, stat!).
the medical staff (doctors, nurses, dieticians) in the gd clinic are definitely much better, but not a damn one of them today could tell me what i wanted to hear, i.e. that i was doing so well i wouldn't need insulin, ever, for all infinity. i saw a post-doc fellow (actually a post-doc gal) first, and she was lovely: warm, friendly, compassionate, direct, and already familiar with my history. i'm always amazed at the people who do not even read the top line of my chart before walking into the room with me, which is frankly disrespectful, but my pdg was already all over it. she was thrilled with my recordkeeping and notetaking and foodlogging, thrilled with how great a diet i've kept, thrilled with how well i've controlled my blood sugar throughout the day. yea for me. in fact, i've kept the diet a bit too well, so well that i have lost three pounds and am pissing ketones. so i went back to the dietician who added some more carbs and protein into my daily routine.
but the night is another thing. my blood sugar when i wake up is always higher than when i went to bed, which is the opposite of what would be expected. apparently, at night my liver is betraying me, manufacturing sugar beyond what i conscientiously consumed during the day, but without the benefit of me being able to exercise it away. well, i could exercise off the sugar my body is producing at night, but i'd have to give up sleep. what the hell - it's not like i'm sleeping much anyway, right?
my pdg, though, and the peri (who was also prepared and lovely) disagree with my plan to give up sleep, as well as my suggestion that we see how milo's doing first before taking drastic steps. they do not want to let the horse out of the barn, so to speak, and let him balloon up before taking action. they were not dissuaded, not one little bit, by my tears. i suspect they would not buy into my latest idea, either, that they remove my liver. in fact, they seemed determined to make sure that milo comes out healthy and alive and shit. imagine that.
so i am doing what i thought was unthinkable, what i and my ob were both so sure i would avoid with meticulous diet and begrudged exercise. i am injecting myself nightly with insulin, starting tonight. i don't even have the words, sarcastic or otherwise, to express how this development pains me. i know people do it every day, but those people are sick.
and if despite my best efforts i still have to take it, then my best efforts suck. it feels like failure. the pdg and the peri were very kind and assured me repeatedly that it was not punishment, not a sign of failure, not anything i could help, that i was doing all i could - and doing a great job of it - to keep it at bay. but it still feels in a very puritanical way like: i was bad, therefore i must be poked with sharp objects.
did i mention the needle hurts like a motherfucker? if not, let me clarify that it does. let me also state that it freaks me out that the place in which i must inject myself is in my belly. is it just me, or does that seem horribly wrong to you, too? and to add insult to injury, i must now also prick my finger an additional time per day: at night, when i get up to get my piss on, to make sure the night's insulin isn't overeffective. motherfucker.
other things that seem world-shattering today but about which i hope to be able to laugh, eventually: insulin is crazy expensive, even with my very good coverage. and i dread seeing my ob on wednesday, because i greatly fear that now that i'm on insulin he will cut me loose and turn me over full time to the perinatologist, who is really, really lovely** but has not been with me from day 1, and i need some stability. also, now that i'm on insulin, even if i get to stay with my ob, i will still have to go to the gd clinic weekly - and gd clinic is only held on monday mornings - when justin now works, thanks to his crappy new schedule.
so here's my new (wishful) plan: milo will come on his own, fully cooked, at 36w1d, sparing us all any more gd gd drama. please, please, please. i don't have an exactly stellar mental health history to begin with; i don't think i can take 10 more weeks of this gd gd nonsense.
*turns out, the wipe and re-squeeze is totally unnecessary. so there. hmmph.
**the gd gd peri is actually a bit more lovely than when i last saw him, when i was about 32 weeks with hans and had to go to l&d after i slipped on an icy sidewalk and did a bellyflop. he has given up on the combover, gotten himself some rogaine, started working out, and gotten a bit of color. or some sleep. or both. whichever, definitely a bit lovelier than previously noted. and every little bit helps.
nonetheless, i'm chronicling life in the aftermath of hans's death, and this gd gd is the biggest feature of it at the moment, so i'm going to keep talking about it. don't say i didn't warn you.
i arrived at the perinatal gd clinic already emotional from my weird dream and my aching tailbone and lack of sleep, which didn't help. if i had a dollar for every time i've cried today (including well-ups and voice break-ups), milo's college fund would be off to a nice start.
the gd clinic is inside the hospital's ob clinic for patients without insurance, and so it is (unfairly) a very different environment from the practice where i see my regular ob, right next door. the desk staff is imperious and condescending and unnecessarily brusque, which just pisses the crap out of me (try to picture that miracle of modern science!); it pisses me off to be treated rudely in the first place, and it pisses me off that they treat their patients generally without respect. the aide that took my vitals wasn't much better; she acted like i was a giant imbecile to not know that after i pricked my finger and squeezed out some eau de lauralu that i was to wipe it away, squeeze again, and then test that sample.* well, thanks to my insurance adventures last week, no one actually showed me how to do it, and you don't even want to get me started on the horribly illogical paperwork that came with the glucometer (someone hire those people a real technical writer, stat!).
the medical staff (doctors, nurses, dieticians) in the gd clinic are definitely much better, but not a damn one of them today could tell me what i wanted to hear, i.e. that i was doing so well i wouldn't need insulin, ever, for all infinity. i saw a post-doc fellow (actually a post-doc gal) first, and she was lovely: warm, friendly, compassionate, direct, and already familiar with my history. i'm always amazed at the people who do not even read the top line of my chart before walking into the room with me, which is frankly disrespectful, but my pdg was already all over it. she was thrilled with my recordkeeping and notetaking and foodlogging, thrilled with how great a diet i've kept, thrilled with how well i've controlled my blood sugar throughout the day. yea for me. in fact, i've kept the diet a bit too well, so well that i have lost three pounds and am pissing ketones. so i went back to the dietician who added some more carbs and protein into my daily routine.
but the night is another thing. my blood sugar when i wake up is always higher than when i went to bed, which is the opposite of what would be expected. apparently, at night my liver is betraying me, manufacturing sugar beyond what i conscientiously consumed during the day, but without the benefit of me being able to exercise it away. well, i could exercise off the sugar my body is producing at night, but i'd have to give up sleep. what the hell - it's not like i'm sleeping much anyway, right?
my pdg, though, and the peri (who was also prepared and lovely) disagree with my plan to give up sleep, as well as my suggestion that we see how milo's doing first before taking drastic steps. they do not want to let the horse out of the barn, so to speak, and let him balloon up before taking action. they were not dissuaded, not one little bit, by my tears. i suspect they would not buy into my latest idea, either, that they remove my liver. in fact, they seemed determined to make sure that milo comes out healthy and alive and shit. imagine that.
so i am doing what i thought was unthinkable, what i and my ob were both so sure i would avoid with meticulous diet and begrudged exercise. i am injecting myself nightly with insulin, starting tonight. i don't even have the words, sarcastic or otherwise, to express how this development pains me. i know people do it every day, but those people are sick.
and if despite my best efforts i still have to take it, then my best efforts suck. it feels like failure. the pdg and the peri were very kind and assured me repeatedly that it was not punishment, not a sign of failure, not anything i could help, that i was doing all i could - and doing a great job of it - to keep it at bay. but it still feels in a very puritanical way like: i was bad, therefore i must be poked with sharp objects.
did i mention the needle hurts like a motherfucker? if not, let me clarify that it does. let me also state that it freaks me out that the place in which i must inject myself is in my belly. is it just me, or does that seem horribly wrong to you, too? and to add insult to injury, i must now also prick my finger an additional time per day: at night, when i get up to get my piss on, to make sure the night's insulin isn't overeffective. motherfucker.
other things that seem world-shattering today but about which i hope to be able to laugh, eventually: insulin is crazy expensive, even with my very good coverage. and i dread seeing my ob on wednesday, because i greatly fear that now that i'm on insulin he will cut me loose and turn me over full time to the perinatologist, who is really, really lovely** but has not been with me from day 1, and i need some stability. also, now that i'm on insulin, even if i get to stay with my ob, i will still have to go to the gd clinic weekly - and gd clinic is only held on monday mornings - when justin now works, thanks to his crappy new schedule.
so here's my new (wishful) plan: milo will come on his own, fully cooked, at 36w1d, sparing us all any more gd gd drama. please, please, please. i don't have an exactly stellar mental health history to begin with; i don't think i can take 10 more weeks of this gd gd nonsense.
*turns out, the wipe and re-squeeze is totally unnecessary. so there. hmmph.
**the gd gd peri is actually a bit more lovely than when i last saw him, when i was about 32 weeks with hans and had to go to l&d after i slipped on an icy sidewalk and did a bellyflop. he has given up on the combover, gotten himself some rogaine, started working out, and gotten a bit of color. or some sleep. or both. whichever, definitely a bit lovelier than previously noted. and every little bit helps.
posted by laura at 6:36 PM
15 Comments:
I don't know if this helps or not, but I could have written this post when I was pregnant with Sam. Your feelings are normal and you are doing great.
Did they teach you to pinch your belly flab before injecting? That helps reduce the pain from the needle. And you can ask for smaller lancets and smaller needles to help ease the pain in your poor fingers and belly.
Remember...you're not alone and you're doing great. And if I can help at all, just give me a shout.
Hey...did any of those clothes fit?
Oh my. It sounds like you are trying your damdest. I'm so sorry that wan't good enough. Here's hoping that the one injection does the trick and you can move forward and over it. I'm sorry you have to deal with any of it at all. It does suck.
Yes, the wipe and re-squeeze is not neccessary.
I'm assuming they gave you a long acting insulin (i.e. Humilin N)for the night?
You are experiencing what is called the Dawn Phenomenon. Your body gears up for when you wake by sending a surge of hormones into your body. Insulin is the worst. And when your preganant, it's like a bizzare amount, because it's gearing up for the baby, too. I would go to bed with 110 and wake up with 245. With the long-acting insulin at night, I would wake up around the 90s. They like you to keep it under 100. Just remember to eat a protein snack before you go to bed, like peanut butter or something.
I'm sorry you have to do the insulin thing. I know it sucks. Just keep up what you are doing and you can avoid injecting a different insulin at every meal!
I am so proud of you! You are doing great!
Incidentally, I had my baby at 36w1d (after having been scheduled for c-section at 38 weeks) and she did just fine. I'm sending good thoughts your way for the same!
Oh this really really sucks. I'm sorry you're going through all of this.
Forgive me if you've gone over all of this...I read a lot of pregnancy blogs written by anxious women...what is the plan for Milo's birth? I feel like you went over this, but I can't rememeber. Are you going to induce? You know they can do the amnio to check. There is no reason you HAVE to go try to go to term.
Hugs. :( Not too much longer.
The gd and insulin situation just sucks. I am sorry it didn't go the way you wanted it to--but you are doing everything you possibly can and doing it well. It is so much easier said than done--because I can't even take my own advice--but Milo will be here so soon! Wishing you peaceful vibes.
Oh Laura, I am so sorry for you that everything is so hard at the moment. I think having Milo at 36 weeks would be a perfect plan. I am so in awe of you for coping so well under extreme pressure and stress. You're still my idol because you're amazing and so strong. and I'm wishing the stress and diabeties drama would ease up pretty soon for you. you deserve a lucky break.
so, is the gd gd peri with the the formerly bad hair and complexion also the dude with the Sperry's?
i am sorry to hear things are so hard but we are all your cheering section here -- you are doing great!
Holy cow, what a lot of BS you are going through! Milo, get ready to rock a bit early, dude, for everyone's sake.
Crap, that sucks.
I like to think I'm not freaked out by needles... but my rule that helps me get through it is not looking at the needle at all. Then I'm ok. I don't know if I could actually inject myself. I guess it's one of those things... now I say i don't know if i could do it, but if i had to, obviously, I would.
You're doing a great job, the job currently sucks, but you're doing the best you can.
Oh, damn it. I'm sorry about the insulin. It's not your fault. There's nothing you can do - it just happens.
I'm sorry it's happening to you. But you know, you will appreciate Milo all the more.
It sucks that it hurts. It sucks that you have one more thing to deal with. You can get through this.
oh, shit sorry about the gd and insulin. I just can't imagine how scared you feel, I hate it when I have to keep swallowing that lump in my throat that is seconds away from an all out bawling fest, I am sorry-- Milo is still cookin' though. Really wish you peaceful thoughts for today.
I'm so sorry you're having to deal with this on top of everything else. I can certainly relate to being pissed off at office staff who treat patients like crap because of demographics. Hopefully things will go quickly from here on and this will become a distant memory for you.
On another note, I was wondering if you would be interested in some of my favorite baby boy clothes that I would prefer not to give to charity. I was going through some things and found a few items I thought Milo might like. I hope you don't think I'm a weirdo, but I'd love for you to have them if it doesn't freak you out too much.
Take care!
Why are they saying you have to inject in your stomach? My daughter has type 1 diabetes and when she was on injections (she pumps now), she could use her arms, thighs and top of her butt in addition to her stomach. You may want to ask about that.
It's really easy to look at insulin usage as a failure. I know I feel that way when my daughter's bg readings get out of whack. It's like flunking quizzes.
I don't know if I've commented here before, but I've been lurking for a while. I'm enjoying reading your blog.
Man, GD sounds really sucky. Sorry you're having to deal with it. As if you needed something else.
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