Phew!

Ok, so my life is FINALLY beginning to calm down, and as the dust settles, a couple things have become clear:

1. Doctors Suck.
2. People are pretty cool.
3. Pregnancy sucks.

Ok, so on the first note. I am ALWAYS sick these days. I would just write it off to "rhinitis of pregnancy" as I previously planned to (by the way... doesn't the word rhinitis give you the image a large rhino horn in the place where my nose should be? Ok, sorry, off topic), the coughing has been really severe and kept me from sleeping. After losing enough sleep as it is to Ava's hiccups, I finally sought medical attention (for the third time) to cure what ails me.

I don't have a family doctor down here yet (though I'll have to get one soon for when Ava arrives), so I've been relying on Urgentcare. Now, back in Wheaton, where I grew up, Urgentcare was a very professional operation where you could expect just as thorough an examination and treatment as you could with your regular doctor. In Bowling Green, unfortunately... well, let's just say it was less than I had hoped for.

First, the doctor tries to prescribe me a Z-pack. I say, "Well, like I told the nurse to put in the chart, I finished a Z-pack about a week or two ago, and the symptoms never went away."

He flips open my chart, makes a face, and says, "Right you are! Ok, let's try Amoxclav."

I purse my lips and furrow my brow. "Well, as my chart should indicate, I'm allergic to penicillin."

Again, he opens up the chart, flips through the pages and raises his eyebrows. "Oh, yes, I see it here. So... no penicillin. Let's try (insert some gobbledy-gook I can't remember)."

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. "You know, sir, that I am 6 1/2 months pregnant, right?"

He opens the chart back up, looks at my stomach, and then back to the chart. "Huh. So you are. Well, can't give you that then- it might kill you or the baby!"

He chuckles, and my stomach lurches. He mutters through his final prescription, I think hoping he won't have to correct himself again, and at this point I am so horrified I just want the interaction to end.

So I go to the pharmacy to get the prescriptions filled. I can't read the doctor's handwriting (have you ever wondered how the pharmacists do it? I mean, do they have to take a class or something?), so I ask the pharmacists if everything is ok, given my allergies and pregnant state. Despite the fact that they've entered that information into my file at the pharmacy three times now, she informs me that it's not there, and she'll have to enter it again. After typing in the info one painful key at a time using her forefingers (really? She was like my age. No excuse for not being able to type if you've been through enough school to be filling my prescriptions), I ask her again. She looks up at the ceiling, as though she expects the answer to be written in the cracked white tile.

"Umm... I don't really know... HEY!! TINA!! CAN YOU TAKE LODRANE IF YOU'RE KNOCKED UP?"

Someone, I'm assuming Tina, hollers from a back corner, "UHHH... I DON'T KNOW. DID HER DOCTOR SAY IT WAS OK?"

The twittering idiot in front of me responds, "WELL, I MEAN, HE DID WRITE THE PRESCRIPTION!" She rolls her eyes and turns back to me. "You should be fine."

I sure felt reassured.

Well, I called my mom, who said she didn't know for sure on anything, and to call my OB/GYN. Makes sense, except I'm avoiding them altogether until I figure out what the hell is happening with my insurance (another post, another day). So, I cave and call, but no one is around. In the meantime, I still feel like CRAP.

Then, thank God, my #2 Observation from above comes to fruition- a girl in one my classes is actually an OB/GYN nurse who's come back to school to get another degree. I awkwardly asked her opinion of the medicines, and her face turned dark.

"Well," she said. "The first thing they gave you is Hydrocodone. This is a fairly strong narcotic. Now if you were taking it to just calm down some severe pain once in awhile, it would be fine, but it says here he wants you taking it on a regular basis. Do that, and the baby will be born addicted and go through withdrawl."

Great.

"This second one," she continued. "This one is a Class C pregnancy drug, as classified by the FDA. What that means is that there 'have not been adequate studies done on the effects the drug may have on a pregnant woman or her fetus.' That doesn't necessarily mean it's bad. Problem is, with this one in particular, studies conducted on mammals who almost always react in the same vein as humans found that the drug produces birth defects."

Fabulous.

"The last one," she went on. "Is also a Class C drug. Studies haven't proved anything yet on this one, though."

Wow, exciting.

It thanked her profusely and decided I wasn't touching anything, except maybe the hydrocodone if things got bad.

Moral of the story? ALWAYS double check your doctor. They are not perfect, and some of them are damn stupid. This doesn't mean you should read so much about your health that you become a hypochondriac, but especially if you're at risk due to certain conditions (pregnancy, high blood pressure, etc.), a follow up or second opinion can't hurt.

Second lesson is that people can be pretty cool. That nurse potentially helped me keep my baby out of harm's way. Renewed my faith in mankind, if only momentarily.

Finally, pregnancy sucks. I mean, yeah, it's kind of cool feeling Ava kick around when she doesn't like the position I'm sitting in, or feeling her settle down when the boy reads to her at night, and I'm beyond excited for her to be here, BUT

I just want her out already!

Ok, so maybe she should wait a few more weeks, but I wish the time would go by faster :)