Just because I know posts about urine are immensely appealing and popular, I’ll tell you that I have another pee jug day today. The doctors are making me take the 24-hour urine test again since as I was very close to failing it last time and the swelling continues to make me look like the Michelin Man’s daughter. (Seriously, put a blond wig on the Michelin Man and that’s like looking in the mirror for me.)
I knew it wasn’t good when my doctor walked into the office shaking her head. Then, my second clue that it wasn’t good was when she said “it isn't good.” The last jug I turned in gave me a score of 294 (or 296). I know, that sounds pretty good, right? Woo-hoo! Well, apparently the “cut-off” before they diagnosis a patient with preeclampsia is 300. D’oh!
While this may sound a bit alarming, I should again state that the baby is doing just fine. He’s big, he’s kicking, he’s power napping, he hasn’t shared any complaints with us. There is a possibility of bedrest if I do end up with preeclampsia, but that will just be an opportunity to get caught up on America’s Next Top Model once again. They’ve probably produced about five more seasons of that show since the last time I was on load-mode three months ago. But we’ll cross that bridge when and IF we come to it. I should know the results on Monday.
I must be getting old because it seems that medical issues have replaced the weather for favored small-talk topics. I should go hang out at a local nursing home and just dish with the residents.
The good news is that I finally have the re-writes to my book off to the agent. She told me her lovely assistant would be giving it the first read today. So I am checking my e-mail every two seconds and just hanging out with my orange biohazard jug today. Um… so, what are you doing?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment