Cryptic no more!

So after 3 days of migraine fun, and 8 hours of being ignored by my doctor, I landed in the emergency room. I got there at 5 pm. I got back home at 2 am. Hurray! Not.
But the lovely ER doctor pumped me full of narcotics in an effort to kick my migraine’s ass. As a side effect, it made me completely high for about 45 minutes. The migraine receded enough for me to go home, take some Tylenol (fucking joke of a painkiller that!) and spend the rest of the weekend feeling hungover.

Normally a migraine wouldn’t be that big of a deal. I take an assload of drugs, pass out, and eventually wake up with only a minor headache (instead of the inability to deal with light, sound and SMELLS leading directly to overwhelming nausea). However, for those who figured out what I meant in my last post, this girl has finally gotten herself knocked up. So, that puts a big fat kink in the whole “taking any reasonable medication to kill pain” thing. It also means that I have to have a 30-minute discussion every time I call my doctor’s office. I have to answer the same litany of questions, usually no fewer than 4 times every time I come within 10 yards of medical personnel. And when I’m feeling fine, it’s not big deal. When my brain is trying to escape the captivity known as my skull, however, the questions make a Coley a little psychotic.

And even better, since several symptoms of migraine mirror that of pregnancy, it takes forever to explain to people, that NO, it is NOT because I’m gestating. The nausea only got this bad when the migraine kicked in. And no, you cannot prescribe me vicodin, it will kill my fetus. Sometimes, it’s funny when you have to explain to doctors and nurses WHY you can’t just pop a handful of Ibuprofen and call it a day. You’d think some portion of medical school would cover the whole “NSAID’s can cause miscarriage” thing. Glad I’m paying them for their expertise.

So, all that said and done, this kid better be fucking cute.


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I have a doctor’s appt. today, and I’ve been asked to provide a urine sample. And for the squeamish, yes, I’ll be discussing URINE in a moment. Consider yourself sufficiently warned.

I remember urine samples used to involve a rather large plastic cup. Apparently, that was too easy. Instead, the doctor’s office gave me a vial for my urine sample. A vial with an opening no more than 2/3 of an inch in diameter. Excuse me? How am I supposed to pee into that? Oh, by pissing all over my own hand?
Spectacular. I’m so glad I’ll be doing this every month for the next 7 months. Just glorious. I knew pregnancy would be filled with indignities, I just didn’t think the doctor would be adding on new ones.

So to recap: Migraines suck. Coley’s having a Mocha Cub (our favorite pet-name for the baby), doctors are absolutely ridiculous with the urine sample vial.