There is something in the air at Club Denistone, and I haven’t wanted to blog about it in fear of jinxing it. Suffice it to say that if you’re in the mood for crossing your fingers and sending some luck our way, it would be greatly appreciated.
Something I can tell you about, is our adventures last night. Sensitive readers may want to look away, because there is yucky stuff involved.
I have reached the second trimester, and am (apparently) supposed to start to feel better.Until last night, I was waiting in naive hope that my energy levels would increase, and my all day constant companion of nausea would fly away. Yesterday I spent a lovely day with Mandy, pottering about the house, having tea and cake, shopping, and cooking. We even dyed some yarn. After she left, I was pretty tired, and aware that I had probably pushed myself a bit too much. Until about 11pm, I barely left the couch, and was feeling worse and worse. Just after 11, I dragged myself into bed, and then had to race to the bathroom to throw up. Usually, after I throw up, I start to feel better immediately, so I washed my face and crawled back to bed.
Within 10 minutes, I was hurling again, and every 10 minutes after that for the next two and a half hours. At 1.30pm, I had had enough, and was ready to kill myself to stop the vomiting. Mark drove me to hospital.
I was so dehydrated that they had trouble finding a vein, David the 12 year old doctor had to dig about in the back of my hand for a few minutes before giving up and trying my right hand. Eventually he found a vein and took some blood (I am so very brave – I didn’t pass out), and then a nurse cam in with a miracle cure that had me feeling better within seconds of the shot.
An hour or so on a drip, and they offered me a choice of admission, or going back home. I chose home, and we were tucked up in bed just after 3am.
Apparently what I have is called hyperemesis. And it might go away today, or last for several months. The horror…