I did promise bladder stories

clear plastic needles of awful

And now it's time to deliver. (Heh. Deliver.) If you don't want to read stories about pee and broken bladders and other indignities, feel free to skip this. You've been warned.

It appears that I have become super refined because now my blood pressure tanks and causes me to pass out during and after childbirth, all refin-ed-ly. Jenny has offered to buy me smelling salts for a Christmas present, which I will ask people to fetch when I feel my faintness coming upon me again. (Name the movie!) She also informed me that the red raspberry leaf tea, which we'd both been drinking by the quart, lists "can lower blood pressure" as one of its benefits. We both had a good laugh about that.

Now let's talk about pee!

Remember last time after the Tiny Dark Lord's birth when my bladder swelled like a beach ball and I had to wear a rubber-band-MacGuyver'd Foley catheter at home for days? That was not my favorite. So as soon as people started putting IVs into me this time I was very conscious about my bladder and the need to keep it empty.

When they gave me the epidural, I asked if they were going to place a catheter.

Nurse: No, that's just for first-time moms. We will straight cath you instead when you need to go.

(Note from the future: [Blank] that [blank]. You tell her to give you a Foley NOW.) Except I didn't hear The Future speaking and I didn't even really know what the difference was and so I went with it.

So. I nearly passed out during the IV placement, I nearly passed out after the birth, and then after resting for a little while in my new Mother/Baby room, the nurses wanted me to get up and use the bathroom. But they were worried about me passing out, so they got on either side of me and had me goose-step into the bathroom while looking straight ahead. I was doing pretty well, right until they got me to the toilet. At which point I said, "Aaaaannnnd I'm going" and my knees buckled. Luckily there was a toilet handy to sit on. They had to pull the emergency cord and have people come in and it took like four of them to get me back up and in the bed.

They started pumping bags of IV fluid into me to get my blood pressure up, which took a long time. And they tested my blood to see if I needed a transfusion (I didn't). So now it's been hours since I emptied my bladder and the whole time I've been getting more and more fluid. Let's see if any 2nd-graders in the audience know where this is going.

After things calmed down, I started feeling like I needed to go and rang for the nurses to come help me. They got me on the toilet and then turned the sink faucet on, which I guess was supposed to help make me feel all tinkly. I'm surprised they didn't put my hand in warm water while they were at it. After a few unproductive moments, I told them that nothing was happening and I wanted a catheter.

Them: Maybe if you try to relax more.

Me: It's not working. I want a catheter.

Them: Well maybe you just don't need to go.

Me: Oh, I NEED to go. And so help me I will NOT get a broken bladder this time. I need this emptied now. I want a catheter.

So the nurses's assistant begrudgingly got me up on the bed and got out the straight cath, whereupon she filled the entire pee bucket or whatever it is.

Me: I told you I had to go. And I want the kind of catheter that I can wear all the time. I can't keep doing this mess all night.

Her: Um . . . I will talk to the nurse and tell her that's what you want.

Me: It IS what I want. I want that. You get why I want that, right?

(I learned later that the reason they kept going the straight cath route was that they apparently needed permission from my doctor to use a Foley. Do not ask me why this is.)

But no one came back, and soon I needed to go again. Rang the nurses's bell, this time both the nurse and her assistant came. They helped me on the toilet, which I knew was pointless. And then we sat. And sat and sat.

Me: This isn't working. My bladder is broken now. I need a catheter.

So they turn on the sink faucet again.

Me: Yeah . . . I promise that's not going to do it.

Them: Okay then we will just cath you right here.

And the nurse gives the straight cath to the flipping assistant, who tries to insert it while I'm sitting on the toilet. And she fails. Twice. Which is when I said The Word, which is when they looked at each other and said they would call my doctor and see about that Foley catheter.

Me: YES. THANK YOU. DO THAT. (Also, in my head: Bleep bleep *#$%&*^ @$ bleepity %!@*$&^.)

And then it turns out that they didn't have to call my doctor because it had been written in my chart all along that I could have one if I had problems going to the bathroom. (Kill . . . Kill . . . Kiillllllll!)

They got me on the bed and started placing the Foley, which was really uncomfortable. This is not surprising considering all the other crap they'd been stuffing up there all night. But when they finished, it still really hurt.

Me: Something's wrong. I don't think it's in all the way.

Them: No, we're done.  It's working.

Me: No. It feels like you're still putting it in. It is really uncomfortable.

Them: Huh. Well, it's in.

Me: This really, really hurts. Something is wrong.

Them: Huh. Look at the way the urine is kind of . . . spurting into the bag. Looks like you're having a bladder spasm.

Me: What does that mean?

Them: Um . . . your bladder got too full.

Me: I SAID! I SAID IT WAS!!!

And then I cried. And the overly-full spasm-ing bladder caused my uterus to start freaking out and hemorrhaging and they had to give me a shot of something to calm it down. So basically they broke everything because they wouldn't listen to me. And I will be mad about it for the rest of ever.

Moral of the story: The next time you are in the hospital and you have an IV and someone suggests a straight catheter, I want you to ask to see the catheter. Then grab it and STAB THEM IN THE EYE.

And now, some healing images (even though they are technically the reason why all this crap happened):

Little scallops hat--had to bribe him to wear it
long enough for me to take a picture.

He waits until after I put a clean outfit on him,
then turns his head and barfs all over it.
Told you this kid's dark.