My OHSS Story - Part III

Some have expressed their wish that I would write this all in one post.  I apologize for any annoyance about this, but the story is just so long and honestly, I am not together emotionally enough right now to recount the entire story in one sitting.  I write until the tears take over.  Then I stop.  So, while I'm very sorry for the inconvenience, I just can't do it any other way.  Now, the story . . .

. . . Wednesday, I was very surprised to hear from my fertility nurse who had been instructed to call by the on-call physician and have me schedule an ultrasound for Thursday with their chief sonographer.  Whew!  Sigh of relief!  So, that Thursday, I saddled up atop my pillows after waddling slowly out to the car and hung on for yet another agonizing car ride.  Once I got to the office, everyone was surprised to see my state.  The most wonderful sonographer and understudy gently helped me up to the table and proceeded to administer the ultrasound.  In all truth, it wasn't very long because as he moved the wand across my abdomen, he was clearly completely taken aback.  Indeed, even when I lifted my shirt and he saw the swelling that started right under my breasts at my ribs, he said, "This is not good.  You look 6 months pregnant."  Now, I know I  had ballooned, but I still am not sure I looked all of 6 months pregnant.  But, from the mouths of professionals, I guess.  As the wand moved across my entire belly up to my ribs (which had long disappeared beneath the swelling), I could see them--follicles--from all the way down near my uterus to literally all the way up to my ribs.  My husband grabbed my hand and I squeezed, fighting back tears, knowing that this was not good.  As he gently moved the wand across my stomach, he told me over and over again that I should have come in sooner, that the ovaries were now too large for him to even measure.  He was kind, so kind and honest.  The truth was scary--my ovaries had ballooned and were now larger than any he had ever seen.

They rushed me over to do some blood work STAT.  Then they weighed me.  On Monday, the last time I had been weighed at the clinic, I had gained about 5 lbs.  It wasn't good to see, but I assumed that it was "normal in my situation", right?  But when I stepped on the scale and realized that I had gained 10 lbs since Monday, for a total of 15 in less than a week, I lost it, knowing this was incredibly serious.  I had read as much literature as I could on hyperstimulation.  Indeed, this is why I knew something had been wrong the whole week--the whole week that I had been calling the office!  Now, my fears were boldly confirmed.  We were taken into an internal waiting room and sat as the office fluttered around in a tizzy.  I could hear the nurse practitioner sighing as she went over my case.  I was told to chug water and a call was put in for a doctor to come quickly.

Once in the exam room with the nurse practitioner, I was bawling.  "I knew it was bad," I cried.  "But I've been trying to get in and get help since Sunday."  We recounted the events from Sunday to Thursday and she apologized, completely calling out her co-worker for blowing off the ultrasound on Monday.  She explained, with a helpful chart, that hyperstim is common, but dangerous and that I was well above and beyond what they considered severe hyperstim.  I knew, I always knew.  But it was just now being put together.  I was just now being listened to.

The doctor that had then rushed over came in and calmly informed me that I was being directly admitted to the adjoining hospital--to the ICU .  .  .