I have joked that it must have been a boy to have got lost and ended up in the tube rather than the uterus.
(yeah, gallows humour, I know!)
And I’ve no idea about my BP! I thought I usually had a high one, but my big sister, who pays more attention, thought I usually had a low one, so… she’s probably right.
Thank you!
Thanks, I’m home now, and getting there. It’s amazing how quickly you go from moving gingerly and panicking about ripping stitches, to dropping everything and running after the toddler because you’re not sure your sister remember to close the stairgate
Back to normal, I guess!
Of course - the Princess Royal, within Glasgow Royal Infirmary. Was that his?
Eeeek, I’d better be careful then! Especially as the methatrexate will be in my body for a few months too
Yes, make sure you use some sort of contraceptive for the next while after that shot! It’s a really bad idea to get pregnant while it’s still in your system.
This was back in the 1960s. I see there’s a new Wishaw hospital. Maybe this replaced an older one?
My first memories are of living on campus of this hospital (near Motherwell) and staying in what used to be the older nurses’ residence. My Mum’s still kickin’ here in Canada. I just emailed her to ask.
So, it turns out my dad worked in Law Hospital, Carluke. A now defunct facility.
My earliest memories are from there; We lived in residence and I remember quite a bit up to being 3 years old. Then we were off to Londonderry for 3 years and finally Canada.
I’m completely hijacking your thread and I apologize. But these formative years in Scotland and Northern Ireland are part of my DNA.
I took part in the Lanarkshire 2012 Breastfeeding Calendar (me & my baby are Miss July, and Miss January IIRC!) and the launch event for that was in the old Law Hospital, so they maybe use it for admin purposes?
Hijack away, I’m such a drama-whore I’m just delighted to see my thread bumped!
So what do you remember about Lanarkshire - grey skies and rain?
My brothers are both from the left ovary, the huge cyst in the torsioned right ovary having been confused with an apendicitis (I don’t know if “torsioned” is the right workd, probably not: anyway, the tube had gone all twisty; both ovary and tube got taken out).
I spent a year in Glasgow, we worked in Bellshill and one of the things I remember is how many times the weather was all dreary… until we’d gone up the hills. Littlebro came to visit and his summary of Edimburg vs Glasgow was: Edimburgh has all the pretty stuff together so it’s easy to see it all, Glasgow has pretty things where you least expect them.
And playing “King of the Castle” on top of a hay mound with the neighbour kids. Seems all we did was run around outside all day long.
I remember my granny’s place near Strathclyde Loch too.
Ha! I’ve had 7 surgeries so far and thought I was the only one who felt this way. When I’m in the hospital, it’s the only time I have no responsibility except to myself and my healing. I’m nearly recovered from my last, which was nearly 6 weeks ago.
Also, I had 1/2 or less of each ovary and still have two children. There will be no more, as they took out my uterus in the last one, but my point is, the body is amazingly capable.
Thanks again everyone, I’m feeling a little sorrier for myself today.
It’s one of these things - when the crisis is going on, it’s “brave face” time, I’m all cracking jokes, bantering with the nurses, doing some deeply inappropriate black humour with the boyfriend, and reassuring everyone, that no, this wasn’t a tried for planned pregnancy, it’s probably better this way.
But now that the crisis is over, and everything’s slowed down again, and I’m just sitting in the house with time to think and no visitors, it’s hitting me. I was pregnant. I just lost a (potential) baby. I saw its heartbeat, it was real.
The one I do have is trying to steal my get-well chocolates! (but she is very cute, while doing so).
I would deal with this in the traditional Scottish get-drunk-and-see-if-the-answer-is-at-the-bottom-of-a-bottle way, but the stupid methratrexate they gave me last week (that never even worked) means I can’t drink for another three weeks.
One of my friends just send me a link to a deeply cheesy, corny, maudlin rainbow-bridge type story about babies waiting in an airport in heaven for their flight to be called. I’d normally roll my eyes at the bad writing, but I’m bawling instead today.
Oh, dang.
I know you will feel better soon, but just now things look pretty sad.
Babies are wonderful creatures, as are we all.
Existence is complex and painful and joyful and everything else all rolled up into one giant impossible-to-understand blob.
When the sun comes up, as it will, and a new day dawns maybe you’ll feel somewhat better.
Belatedly replying to my own zombie thread to say, yes, conceiving with just the one fallopian tube took a whole 6 weeks (shocker, I know) and I’m now happily in my second trimester with a double-Doper baby (my hubbie is registered here too, as RealOmegaMan), due November sometime
Oh, and ignore the thread title, I’m under the care of the same hospital again, but definitely not IN it
