I felt like I was in a boxing match. I was down for the count and my miscarriage was sitting on my stomach just beating the daylights out of me. Where was the referee? I was dazed, but as I checked back into the outpatient department of the hospital I felt a little calmer. I had known something was not right. I felt worse after the first D&C then I did before. I met with the OB doing surgery that day and explained that I needed antibiotics. She seemed puzzled when I told her I did not receive them the first time, but instead of ignoring me she checked my chart. Then she looked up a little concerned and surprised and said, “No, you didn’t did you?” As we discussed it she promised me that her ‘standard of care’ included using antibiotics and she proceeded to order them prior to induction. Finally, someone was listening.
After the surgery I felt very different. I didn’t have the horrible discomfort or pain ‘down there’ that I had the first time. This physician had been much gentler. This surgery although easier was harder from an anesthesia perspective. Since it was an emergency surgery I had taken my thyroid medication which prevented tradition sedation from being enough. Instead they had to intubate and put me under general. Poor Andy! He was so worried because it took forever for me to wake up. Once the surgery was complete the doctor spoke with my husband. She confirmed that I did have a uterine infection and assured him that the level of antibiotics I was given in pre-op should take care of it. The key word is should.
For my follow up I saw the rotating OB physician yet again. During the exam I jumped off the table in pain. He agreed that the pain was abnormal, but since I didn’t have a fever wouldn’t agree that I had an infection. He also didn’t review my chart. He did an ultrasound and they found nothing. Before I left he said, “I am not going to bet my license on the fact that you don’t have an infection so here is an antibiotic.” At the time I thought, what a jack ass. If you would stop and take a minute you would see the note from my surgery that said I had an infection. You would also see the notes from the other physician stating possible infection. Finally, you would probably deduce that it wasn’t gone. Insert exasperated exhale. Instead of arguing I verified the type and strength of the antibiotic. I wanted to be sure I was getting something with enough punch to get rid of the infection once and for all.
At this point I felt like I had really taken a beating. I also was very disheartened. I knew that I would never use the preferred office method of rotating OBs again. My care had suffered because of lack of consistency. I also was scarred. What if I had scar tissue now or the infection had damaged my uterus? What if there would never be another baby or what if the infection wasn’t really gone after the antibiotic?
I am not a person to take adversity sitting down, or to necessarily believe authority figures like physicians. That is why I took it upon myself to call the Reproductive Endocrinologist that I had seen several years before. I scheduled an appointment with her for later in the week. When I met with her I cried telling her the whole story. She did what an excellent doctor should do by developing a game plan to make sure that I was healed and that my uterus didn’t have any damage. Two months later I had my final test a Saline Sonohysterogram. This test injected saline into my uterus during an ultrasound to determine if there was any scar tissue, adhesions, lesions or other damage caused by the infection and multiple D&Cs. I passed with flying colors. Everything looked excellent and she even gave us the green light to start trying again.
Peace, Love & Being at the End of the Tunnel,
Round 2 is a post in a series on infertility. More articles in the series include: