The D&C will finally happen tomorrow at 11:00 am. For a while it was scheduled for late in the day, so I was glad to have it moved up. Gotta tell ya, though, I spent a couple of days spittin' mad that there was NO room for it — and no way to make room — Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday . . .
It just seemed inhumane to give me the choice between waiting for a natural miscarriage and having the procedure — but then not providing me with that procedure quickly. It will happen 5 days after the confirmation of the loss and who knows how long after the actual end.
The nurse who's been following me since Friday was all but convinced that I'd m/c before the weekend was out. She implored me to pick up the pain meds prescribed for the procedure early. I did (she scared me into it), but I really don't think I'll need them.
I'm cramping all the time now. Mostly in spates of dull aches with occasional sharp pains that take me by surprise. Haven't started bleeding yet, a favor for which I'm so grateful. I took "the law" into my own hands with this and continued my progesterone until the surgery got scheduled once and for all. It doesn't hurt anything and won't affect the procedure, but it may be helping keep the bleeding at bay. I can tell, though, that I must not be producing much progesterone on my own. I can sort of feel it leave my system, and that's happened earlier and earlier each day.
I ended up taking today through the end of the week off from work. I worked over the weekend and was doing pretty well yesterday. My hormones are falling, I think, and I'd work, dissolve into sobs, then feel good and work some more before something assaulted my senses and made me lose it. I was happy with the system. Then I got a single normal/no-big-deal-at-all request to follow up on a project. Someone needed information that would typically take me, oh, an hour to provide. She knew about other stuff I'm working on and so wanted to know when I'd be able to get back to her.
I still can't quite believe my reaction to that, but it was not good. I didn't just lose it, I sent it speeding off a cliff inside a burning car so it could smash to bits and pieces on the rocks below. I'd been living, hour by hour, focusing on how I'd meet all work obligations without incident (read: w/o having to tell anyone anything was amiss). I'd work up until leaving for the procedure tomorrow, then be back at it right away Thursday. I could use the weekend to make up for lost time Wednesday and any time I spent weeping Thursday. And by next Monday, June 30, I'd be all caught up, on time with everything, and able to take a breather for a couple of days to, oh, do some stuff around the house and maybe start working out again. That one hour of extra work was NOT going to fit in anywhere.
I'm laughing a little bit at my crazy.
In any case, yesterday's afternoon breakdown was good for me. It made me see that I can't, in fact, act like nothing is wrong. I know I will get through it. But I have to give myself a break. And making a few schedule changes was the least I can do toward that end.
All I want right now is to get home from the clinic tomorrow and start the healing.