Well, that was scary

Things are just determined to be interesting around here. On Tuesday night, I found myself with a wicked headache. Having suffered from headaches/migraines since I was a teeny bopper, I am pretty used to this state of being. During pregnancy, I normally manage headaches with application of heat, massage, and profanity. But I could not get this fucker under control. And it just keep getting worse. I was on the verge of chuffing something fierce. I felt feverish. Throughout the wee hours of the morning, I took multiple ferociously hot showers in an attempt to beat my neck muscles into submission. No luck. I did not sleep one minute the entire night. Boy, did that suck.

But in addition to sucking, it started to get kind of scary. After my 6 a.m. shower o' futility, I could hardly walk and my right leg started to twitch uncontrollably. At this point, I called OB and told them that their favorite high blood pressure patient had an intractable headache. Of course they told me to haul my ass in there, since this can be a sign of everybody's favorite pregnancy complication, preeclampsia. I called my dad to come watch Phook, called Big K out of the sack to haul me to the doc, and threw the camera in the hospital bag, since I was pretty sure I'd be in the slicer dicer getting Circus removed within the hour. I was really scared.

Big K hauled me to the hospital via a route that of course involved a lot of evasive maneuvers on account of the fact that the state of Wisconsin is more or less submerged in floodwaters right now. I asked him to drive with slightly less panache since the wild veering wasn't helping me keep a handle on my stomach contents, and he graciously informed me I could go ahead a puke all over the car, or all over him, and that I shouldn't worry about it. This is Big K chivalry at its finest.

We eventually arrived sans vomit, and I was expecting to be escorted to a triage room, but no, I was actually taken to a labor room where I was wristbanded and IV'd immediately. Apparently they thought I would be having a baby too. And then they took my blood pressure. Keep in mind that I was in excruciating pain, very nauseous, pretty sure I was about to have a c-section, and had missed an entire night of sleep. However, being resigned to those fates, I didn't give a fuck what my blood pressure was. I was ready for 240/120. And it was like 130/80. If you need a refresher course, this is really good for me. And given the exacerbating circumstances, downright amazing. As it turns out, my blood pressure isn't even fucking high when I'm not nervous about it. (I've known this all along, really, but that doesn't help me get my shit together when I see that cuff o' doom headed my way.)

So they drew some labs to ensure that my kidneys and liver weren't going to shit (they weren't), did the fetal monitoring (happy baby), dumped some fluids in me via IV, and took my blood pressure some more. My blood pressures were like 120/70. That's like marathoner-level cardiovascular fitness in my world. Oh, the irony. Then my doctor showed up and said, "I was going to induce you today when I heard you called. But you actually seem fine. So why don't we give you a muscle relaxer, you can take a nap and have some lunch, and I'll see you at your regular visit on Friday." So that's how we rolled. I took a very expensive nap in a hospital bed, had some gravy-covered mystery meat which actually tasted good on account of someone other than me having prepared it, and went home. At that point, I took an additional 4-hour nap, woke up to say hi to Phook, and went back to bed for the night.

This kind of scenario probably should make me feel like a total asshat, but the headache was severe and longlasting enough and the associated symptoms wonky enough that I think it would have been reckless to ignore it, given the risk factors. So, thank you mister insurance provider. And Circus has dodged another bullet.