The Pain

turned out to be in the post after all. Oh boy, so it was. Uterus has been playing Silly Buggers and inconveniencing everyone, primarily me.
Here I am again. Same hospital. Same ward. Different room.
Uterus, which had worked up over 2 days to full labour contractions, laughed at Entonox, fought back alarmingly well against Pethidine, but eventually fell sulkily into line for Voltarol, and I can function again – for a given value of function. I am currently lying in wait for the nurse who squeezed my badly-functioning drip last night, in case I can contrive to run my drip stand over her toe. Thus I amuse myself until breakfast, because it takes more than this to put a Hairy off their food.

33 Responses

  1. You poor poor girl. My heart and hugs go out to you xx

  2. Bugger. Bugger bugger bugger bugger BUGGER and damn. Would like to bang your uteri’s heads together, only that would hardly make you more comfortable.

    Many many sympathies. Volterol is Da Bizniz, isn’t it?

    Nurses who are brisk and forceful with drips should ALL have their toes run over.

  3. Has anyone told that uterus that it has had more than enough attention now . . . ? It’s all a bit much isn’t it. Hope you are back in the comfort of your own bed very soon.

    BTW, that nurse probably wears steel toe-capped hobnail boots just like the one who expressed such surprise that I was always awake when she clumped into my room to do my obs. And they wondered why my BP was through the roof!

  4. Oh no …. Voltarol works cos it has aspirations to be a drain cleaner!!

    Poor you!! Take care x

  5. Hope the breakfast was good and the nurse was wearing sandals.

    Gah. Mucho sympathies.

  6. Oh you poor dear. You need to catch a break soon cos this is really beyond unfair. Impressed that Voltarol is working for you. Odd how effectiveness is so variable person to person. Hope the nurse stubs her toe on your bed at the very least.

  7. You know, you might want to be careful: you’re kind of starting to make a miscarriage sound like…not much fun.


    If the nurse does wear steel toe-capped hobnail boots, just pick up the drip stand, beat her with the wheely end and then say innocently:

    “Oh, I’m sorry, I hallucinated that you were a moth and I was killing you with my electric tennis racket fly-swatter…”

  9. Any chance for a general anesthetic? A couple days of sleep sounds like a good idea to me…

  10. Oh no, still? Poor you.

    Hugs. And swears at the obnoxious nurse. Perhaps a career in the butchers, for her, if this one is not satisfactory?

  11. I was worried that you were not giving yourself enough rest, and overdoing it at home. While I am happy you are resting, this is not the way to go about it. A simple session with feet up and chocolates at hand would have done nicely.

  12. Clearly the Universe has no compunction about kicking a woman when she is down, thrice curse it!

    Hope you are at least getting a bit of rest in between the visits of fairy-elephant nurses and can be out of there soon. X

  13. Oh man. It is just horrendous. And unfair. And shit.

  14. G’dammit. Ann, the universe currently owes you these things:

    1. Four weeks on a sunny tropical shore.
    2. Several bottles of single malt.
    3. Undying devotion and flawless behavior from the Hairy Men.
    4. Unlimited cake.

    I’m so sorry, dear.

  15. I think we need to have a whip round and get your uterus really, really drunk. Having a bottle or two of whiskey seems to be the only thing that it may respond to.

  16. oh shit. I really was hoping it was going to get better for you now. Bugger. ARSE. And damn that nurse to hell.xx

  17. Oh, I was a little worried when you got so quiet. I’m glad you’re not, like, life-endangeringly ill, but I can’t really file “enormous amounts of pain” under “Good”, especially given all the recent events it’s capping.

    I remain in admiration of your extremely stiff upper lip, but honestly? Would you like to whine, quietly, or keen loudly–break a few windows loudly? Because I think you deserve to, as much as you like.

    Ah well. Hope a certain nurse is sporting tire-tread imprints on her toes tonight. Gentle patting and tuns of virtual whiskey from over the ocean. Hope you are home soon.

    • There is a pair of quotes or set of hyphens that has escaped to “break a few windows”–sorry about that; as it is, it sounds like *I’ve* been into the Voltarol (a name which has volcanic overtones that sound truly hardcore).

      • I don’t know Laurel, but I do officially like her. She gives good comment.

        • (Thank you–especially good to hear as I was a little worried in retrospect about this particular comment being unintentionally offensive. (I know some people work better with humor than with wailing, and didn’t want HFF to think I was telling her how to react.))

          I love reading HFF comments–they are so consistently funny and supportive. A group of people I would love to meet IRL.

  18. I am so sorry, Ms HFF. I know it doesn’t make it a jot less awful, but I am sorry nonetheless,



  19. Suckitude to the power of ten. So sorry that it just keeps getting worse.

    And yay! for drugs. Eventually.

  20. oh, fuck you, universe. too much.

  21. I have luckily rarely been an inpatient, but the few experiences I have had in hospital have convinced me that nurses gather together in some staff room somewhere at the beginning of every shift and exchange ridiculous comments they can say to patients in a Monty Pythonish stylee.

    Nurse: (as she’s handing me a codeine tablet – prescribed by my obstetrician – and about to give me a stool softener capsule) “You shouldn’t be taking so much codeine. It’ll make you constipated.”

    Me: “Perhaps that’s why the doctor who prescribed this much codeine has also prescribed that stool softener you’re about to give me.”


    Nurse: “You’re just now having your first baby at age 28? Why did you wait so long? Why, my daughter is 14 and I’m only 32! HOW OLD are you going to be when this baby is 14?” (proceeds to be incapable of adding 28 and 14 together, or realizing that alternately, she could just add 10 to her age)


    Nurse: (in a chastising tone, after having checked on me by stomping into my room and shining a flashlight straight into my face for the fourth time that night) “You’re really going to have to try to get some sleep! How do you expect to get better if you don’t sleep?”

    Me: “I tend to sleep better without the flashlight.”


    Nurse: “Don’t be silly! Of course I can push your sleeve up high enough to give you the needle. Take off your jacket.”

    (tries to push sleeve up… it stops before it reaches my elbow)

    (in a tone that suggests I had been the one insisting she should try to push the sleeve up, instead of me slipping my arm out…)

    “Well, you’re going to have to slip your arm out. I can’t push a sleeve that tight all the way up your arm!”

    Me: (thinks) I wish I’d suggested that in the first place…


    Of course, I’ve known wonderful nurses, too, and I hope that’s the kind you’re encountering. With the exception of The Drip Squeezer.

    Your Uterus needs a very stern talking-to, doesn’t it?

    Hope you feel better soon.

  22. Ooops. Too long comment. Soz.

  23. Quietish again, hope you are OK.

  24. Thinking of you, longing to hear how you are doing.

  25. Thinking of you x

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