Perinatal Delirium

My husband has a very interesting job. I love to hear the stories of the patients that he encounters. Some stories are sad. Some happy. Some are funny. Some are interesting or intriguing.


And some just really piss me off.


Like today. He's telling me this sad story about a woman who's baby has anencephaly. This baby will die when born. Or he or she will die shortly afterwards. It's a sad story. Definitely one of the sad stories.


But then he tells me that the mother is pregnant with baby number 9. NINE. Babies 1-8 are not with this mother but rather in various stages of CPS involvement. Some are in foster care. Some are with relatives. None of them are with the mother. Then he tells me that this mother just got out of prison and immediately got pregnant. Oh, the plot thickens.


Okay, this pisses me off. What is this woman doing having baby #9? Yes, this pisses me off. But just a little bit.


What really pisses me off is this---


I ask him something like this. "This might sound strange or whatever, but can you, as her doctor, recommend or at least ask if she's interested in sterilization? If she'd be interested in having a tubal while she's there delivering?"


DH: "Oh yeah we can. We do it all the time. We ask. We suggest. But she has to sign the consent within 30 days."


Me: What do you mean by 30 days?

DH: Well, she has to sign the consent for the tubal ligation within 30 days of her expected date of delivery. If she's closer to delivery than that, then apparently, she's not mentally stable or whatever, enough to sign the papers."

Me: WHAT????


DH: It's a federal law. She has to sign the consent papers within 30 days of expected delivery and within no more than 180 days. If she's closer than that, she cannot give consent for the procedure.


Me: ARE YOU FRIGGIN' KIDDING ME?


DH: No. Of course not. Apparently, there's a lot of litigation surrounding cases where a woman who's "too close" to delivery decides that she wants a tubal and then regrets it afterwards.


Me: Okay, I can understand regretting it afterwards, but why the 30 days?


DH: Because, I guess, your hormones are too out of whack or something and you're not considered mentally competent to make that decision.


Me: WHAT? You're not considered mentally competent to sign a legal medical document when you're perinatal?


DH: Don't yell at me. I didn't make the law. I'm just telling you what the law says and what standard medical practice is. You can't give a tubal if the patient asks for it within 30 days of the expected date of delivery.


Me: You've got to be friggin' kidding me! Could I legally sign for a mortgage at 36 weeks pregnant? Yes! Could I sign for a new credit card? Yes! Could I decide to divorce you? Yes! But I can't sign a medical consent form for a tubal ligation?


DH: No.


Do you see where I'm going with this? Do you see why I'm so pissed off? Oh my stars, this has soooooo many levels.


Don't even get me started.

Least Favorite Chore

What's your least favorite chore?

You would think mine would be something like cleaning toilets, or picking up dog poop, right? I hate both of those chores too, but I always manage to muster the strength to do them.

But when it comes to emptying the dishwasher, well, I just can't do it. I don't know what it is about it. I just hate it. Objectively, it's not that bad of a chore. The dishes are clean, for one thing, so it's not at all a nasty thing to do like some chores can be. And it should be nice, just like putting away clean laundry, that a task is completed. It's done. The dishes are clean.

But no. I can't stand it and I don't know why. Fortunately for me, my DH, on the mornings when he's home, puts them away first thing. I love him for it. I lie in bed and hear him clanging around putting away clean dishes. And even though it disturbs my last moments of sleep, I love him for it.

But days like today? When he's not here in the morning? Sigh. The clean dishes sit in the dishwasher all day. All day. I avoid the chore like the plague. I just hand washed two entire sinks full of dishes just so I wouldn't have to unload the dishwasher. What gives with that?

I've done 3 loads of laundry so far today---from start to finish---folding and putting them away included. I've cleaned all three toilets. Yes, three. I vacuumed up the mess O made when she "baked bread" in the kitchen this morning and the mess that J made cracking open almonds. I even walked around the house with my container of Clorox wipes wiping down stair rails, light switches, doorknobs, etc., because it's flu season y'know.

But have I managed to get around to emptying the dishwasher? Nope. We'll be lucky if I manage to do it before dinner. And if I don't? Well, that's okay. DH will be here in the morning.

So Much To Be Thankful For

My DH had the worst possible thing that could happen to a doctor happen to him yesterday---a baby died at 40 weeks. That's term. The baby actually died on his or her very due date. The poor mother, a first-time-about-to-be-mother, came into the office with her sister all elated with anticipation. She expected my DH to tell her something like, "Well, you're 2 centimeters dilated, it could happen at any time." And instead, my hubby who's known around the office as being the awesome heartbeat finder, couldn't find a heartbeat. He tried. He tried hard. He remembered that earlier that day (an omen?) he couldn't find another heartbeat, and then another. But he remembered that in a few minutes, he did find them.

But with this poor woman, he didn't. He brought in another doctor who also couldn't find the heartbeat. He perused the woman's chart. She had done all the right things. She hadn't missed a single prenatal visit. She had taken all the tests---all but one, one that many women skip---especially women who know they wouldn't personally choose abortion even if they had found fetal abnormalities. She had been to her prenatal visit just last week and everything was fine. He had found a heartbeat then. Why couldn't he find one today?

She was young. She was healthy. He tested her for drug use. Negative. He thought of all the possibilities. Negative. She had done all the right things. All the right things. He has lots of women in his practice that don't do the right things and their babies live. She had done all the right things.

Her baby died. And my DH cried.

Shit. I cried. I told a friend and she cried. Who carries a baby to term just to have the poor thing die? What sad and perverted version of our existence allows this kind of thing to happen?

And ya all wonder why I'm in a pissy, I mean, thankful, mood?