Week 37... Rapunzel vs. Mike 2.0

by - September 06, 2016

I have been poked, prodded and stabbed more this week than any before. My previous ob, Dr. Funk, like mentioned in my previous post didn't run many very important tests. After the lab work Dr. Beale requested last week came back, they found out my blood type is O-. If Michael's blood type is positive (+) this could have an extremely negative impact on the baby and I. Could even lead to miscarriage and an array of other complications. I am astounded at the lack of concern and complete malpractice from the Medina Cleveland Clinic Obstetrics and Gynecology medical practice located at the Medina hospital. I am so furious to the point I am looking into sueing, but at the same time trying to stay as relaxed as possible because Milo's arrival is just around the corner. He doesnt need any more stress, nor do I. I am keeping my fingers crossed for a happy and healthy baby. The nurse at my last appointment gave me the shot treatment, even though we are late in the game, to counter act my O- blood type. Hopefully the damage isn't already done and no complications come out of Dr. Funk's lack of professionalism and unethical medical practices.

Since we are on baby watch Michael decided to stay in Elko this weekend instead of making the 7 hour voyage to Bryce Valley. I was a little excited when he decided to stay here, even though I knew I would have to suffer through the burden of blame. He is determined to make Elko and his time here as miserable as possible. It's hurtful and hard to live with knowing the only person you have in your life at the moment would rather be belligerent drunk hundreds of miles away from you. I have not been handling the feelings of being trapped, caged and abandoned here very well at all. I feel like Rapunzel trapped in the castle tower aka my second story apartment. I don't know many people and I feel that's the way Michael likes it. He seems to enjoy having this type control over me and the baby. He even gets an attitude when I talk about or hang out with the girls I met in my pregnancy classes. I thought this weekend we would go out and explore, run some errands, and maybe get some lunch at a restaurant in town. Try to enjoy the little baby free time we have left. Lauren, Anthony's wife, was even in Elko over the weekend and she invited us out to dinner. Of course, Michael refused. We barely left the apartment the entire four days and this cabin fever is starting to get to me. I have barely had any positive human interaction since my arrival here. Michael works all the time and when he gets the chance he abandons me to go to southern Utah for days on end. It's really hard constantly being alone. This all is making my anxiety spike and it's harder to stay relaxed. I try to talk to Michael about how I am feeling and just like everything else his face is blank with this cold could care less expression. This is not what I had in mind when I made the choice to come out here.
Michael actually went with me to this weeks appointment with Dr. Beale. The very first and probably only one he will attend, but he went. Now don't get excited, his reasons for going weren't entirely unselfish. It's not like he went to hold my hand, be supportive or because he has a general interest in this pregnancy, me or the baby. He wanted to find out if he had to be stuck at the shop or if he could go out in the field. Dr. Beale told him it's up to him. As a medical professional it's not his place to say, but he did warn that things are unpredictable during these final stages of pregnancy. That being in sketchy cell service and hours away can propose the risk of missing the baby being born. The choice is his. Michael didn't look too happy about that. I think he was hoping the doctor would tell him what to do.

For weeks I have talked about pressure and pains in my chest, in my posts. The difficulties I have had breathing, I chucked up to pregnancy. But now that Milo is lowered into position if I get uncomfortable I can move around and relieve the pressure from him, but a different pressure has lingered. Anytime I take in a breathe a pain aches in my chest. I started noticing that this may not be pregnancy related when it came with fatigue, dizziness, heightened pains, and the feeling of even when I am breathing I can't seem to get any air. All this is accompanied by sperts of uncontrollable coughing. This started to concern me after a couple of days of worsening. I realized this isn't my anxiety, or pressure from the baby. Something may be wrong. So I woke Michael up around 1 a.m. to see if he would go with me to the hospital's ER. I decided to go after I couldn't get enough air to sleep and the pain became unbearable. I was scared to drive alone since I was light headed from not being able to get enough air during my breaths. The doctor later called this "air hunger". He, like I should have expected, showed no concern, turned his back to me and resumed his drunken slumber.
Once I arrived at the hospital they took me back almost immediately. The doctor came in and we went over my symptoms and she instantly thought I had a blood clot in my lungs. With my age being only in the mid twenties she didn't expect it could be anything else. A pulmonary embolism is what she called it. Common in pregnancy due to the many changes in the body and extremely fatal. Leading cause for maternal dealths, I was warned. I was instantly terrified and resentful I was alone. They started prepping me for a CT scan. Not something I was excited for due to the radiation exposure it imposes on the baby, but something that needed to be done. Both of our lives were at risk with a potential blood clot. I have never seen a medical team work so quickly outside of tv dramas. Despite the fact I was the only one there they were in full emergency mode. A nurse came in and gave me the most painful IV ever, took my blood for some testing, and then I was wheeled down to the CT room. There, I laid down on the table and my IV was hooked up to a machine that pumped a blue fluid into my body. It made me feel extremely hot, light headed, nauseous and dizzy. My body was so warm I thought I may have peed myself. Luckily I did not, because, ya know, that would have been embarrassing. The whole scan only lasted about four minutes, but seemed like forever. With the abundance of thoughts running through my head and the medical staff quickly working all around me, like bees in a hive, I felt like I was outside my body looking down on the actions surrounding me. Words like emergency c section, extremely fatal, and death were being passed around from one medical professional to another right outside my door. If I did have a blood clot they planned to deliver Milo and send me straight into surgery. Dr. Beale along with a anesthesiologist were on call. The nurses started prepping me for just that when my ct scan showed something blocking my passage ways. I tried endlessly with phone calls and texts to get in touch with Michael but all was ignored. I don't know why I even bother. I considered calling Anthony but it was around 3 a.m. and I didn't want to burden him with my selfish, deadbeat, sperm donor, baby daddy drama.

The doctor came in after speaking to the radiologist and said they noticed something else, it's not a blood clot. For a second I was relieved until she went on to explain what they found. The CT scan showed that I have two soft tissue density nodules on the tubes entering my lungs. One is 3 mm in size on my left and the other is a bit larger at 4 mm on my right. These tumor masses mixed with bronchitis is what is making me suffer from these chest pains and difficulty breathing. She prescribed me a pain reducing medication, Lortab Elixir, to keep me comfortable until Milo is delivered. There is nothing that can be done about the tumors during my pregnancy. She referred me to a primary care physician who from there can write me a referral to a cancer specialist. Depending on their findings I will more than likely have to be making some trips down to one of the larger hospitals in the Las Vegas area.

Home from the hospital, exhausted, and weighed down with this new information, I hopped in the shower to try to relax. I just sat there with the water washing over me and my thoughts running a mile a minute. So quickly I couldn't seem to catch one to process. I can't get the thought of this being another major life journey I will be dealing with alone. I get out once the water starts running cold and head to bed. Even after arriving home and getting out of the shower michael says nothing. I could barely keep my eyes open if I tried. I fell sleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. The next morning Michael is sitting on the sofa, his last day off, and not a word comes from his direction. The entire day goes by entering into the night, as I am in and out of consciousness, and not an ounce of concern or question from Michael. He just sat in the living room playing his Xbox and drinking his beer like nothing even happened. Not once did he ask how I was, what happened, or if I and the baby are ok. He just let things be all day until I asked him why he is constantly acting like this. Why he is so incapable of caring for anyone other than himself or showing any bit of concern or compassion. Apparently, to him, his inabilities are my fault. Like everything else. He apparently shouldn't have to show concern or make an effort to care for anyone else, I should tell him when something is wrong. I guess waking him up at 1 a.m., phone call after phone call from the hospital and a cluster of texts weren't good enough to spark his nonexistent compassion. I am at the end of my rope with him. I honestly think he has some sort of mental illness that contributes to this kind of careless behavior. The verbal and emotional abuse, lack of responsibility, the inability to show compassion, concern, or care for others. It's honestly starting to scare me and I am unsure about keeping my son and myself in this type of negative situation. I refuse to live my life being miserable and abused like Michael's mom has. His dad and him are very similar and I know I deserve to be treated better. At the very least with respect. There isn't much I can do so late in my pregnancy, but Mike 2.0 can't be dumb enough to think I will continue to tolerate being treated like this forever. I have to start thinking of my health and what's best. Being in a situation where I am constantly being hurt, let down, disrespected, and disappointed isn't healthy for me or my son.

The whole reason I moved out here and allowed Michael the chance to be back in our lives, after everything he has done, was so I would have the opportunity to raise my son. Dealing with Michael's attitude, constant put downs, and abuse seemed like a fair trade to spend priceless time with Milo. To be there for him everyday. To watch him grow and learn. To make sure his days were filled with love. Whenever I thought of our futures, me not being in the picture was never a thought that crossed my mind. That's always been Michael's department. Now, it is something I am forced to think about and plan for. I am very type A and like to plan everything, and every scenario, no matter how difficult at times it may be. Since Michael and I are not married, being a father to this baby isn't something he has ever wanted, along with his crazy work schedule. It would be impossible for him to care for Milo on his own, if I was no longer around. So I have begun making more suitable arrangements just in case anything were to happen to me down the road. My friend for many years, Christy, has accepted my proposal to be god mother. I hope and pray it never comes to that, but I feel it to be the best for Milo if the situation calls for it. Once the big "C" is a possibility, you start to put life into perspective. I have never had to care for anyone other than myself before. I have only had to make choices, decisions, and big life changes for me. However, Milo isn't even here yet and I find myself trying to do what's best for him every single day. Every choice I have made since that test showed positive has been in his best interest. I don't see that ever changing.

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