Odd. I think Roachboy e-mailed me, or one of his cohorts did. I'm betting Roachboy, because he's the only weirdo I know who begins the subject of his e-mail with re:. Even if he's not responding to a previous e-mail. I don't think he's completely grasped the entire online concept yet.
Anyway, I'm not reading it. Why? Because if he doesn't have anything better to do than read my site and try to comfort himself with my problems, then he obviously doesn't have anything worthwhile to say. If it's one of his cohorts, then I seriously doubt he'd have anything intelligent to say in the first place.
Hey Roachsnot: do something more worthwhile with your time, like putting up more of your --ahem-- literary endeavors. And planning your freak-ass revolution. Remember: e-mailing me is the same as admitting that anything I say or think matters, and I don't think you want to lower yourself to my level, do you, bug-boy?
Anyway, I am no longer pregnant. I was debating whether or not I should put up the details of the abortion, but I figured that I may as well, since I've gone this far. However, before I begin, I want to mention that there was one person who e-mailed me and told me that she'd make her daughter have the kid, so she'd learn responsibility. Trust me lady, if an abortion doesn't teach her responsibility, you might as well give her up for lost anyway.
I am never getting pregnant again.
Well, my appointment was at nine. Dirk went with me, of course, to provide emotional support, and to donate money to the cause. After I went into the back, he crashed out in the car, because he needed sleep. I'd hauled his ass outta bed maybe an hour after he got home from work.
The staff was really nice. That was the only good thing about the whole experience.
When I first went back, to get the labwork done, I was semi-upbeat. I couldn't get the valium and high-class painkiller that they said would make me "more relaxed". Apparently, you're not allowed to drive in the state of Virginia until six hours after you take that stuff. So, that was out. I was forced to take the local anesthetic. By local, they mean they anesthetize your cervix. That's all.
The labwork consisted of another pee test, to make sure I was pregnant (as if the morning sickness wasn't proof enough), and they pricked my index finger, to get my blood type. I joked with the nurses a bit, especially when my preg test came back positive. "There goes my last-minute reprieve."
The actual abortion was nasty. First, they do a pelvic exam, to make certain that you're less than three months pregnant. Then, they shove this metal thing up you (yes, this isn't anatomy class, so we're not using the scientific terms), after you've put your legs up on these odd stirrup things designed to keep your legs up and bent out of the way. After that, there's an uncomfortable pinch, as they anesthetize your cervix. The nurse, an older scandinavian woman, tried to keep me distracted as long as possible, by asking me about my boyfriend, my ring, etc. It didn't really work, but I appreciated the effort.
Then, after a little while, during which your cervix has supposedly dilated, they insert the currettage. The currettage is this long white thing that's attached to a sort of vacuum. It scrapes away the fetus, placenta, and quite a bit of the lining material as it vacuums it away. As soon as that was inserted, the pain started. First, it was a really uncomfortable pressure. Then, as my uterus contracted (I assume they were scraping), it was all I could do not to scream. I'm so proud of myself for not screaming. If you have menstrual cramps, take that pain and multiply it by, oh, TEN. That's how bad it hurts. My cramps nearly immobilize me during my regular cycle, so I was in horrible pain. The docter and the nurse kept having to remind me to breath slowly, and to stay relaxed. And when the vacuum started, I didn't think I'd be able to stand it. I moaned, once, then the vacuum stopped. The nice docter made sure I pushed down on my uterus, admonished me to "breathe deeply", then told me it would only last ten more seconds, then we'd be done. It was the longest goddamn ten seconds of my life. I forced myself to count to ten in my head, just to give me something to focus on. Just to remind myself to breathe. Just to remind myself this wasn't a nightmare, and I had no hope of waking up.
After it was done, and they removed all the equipment from my innards, I still hurt like hell. One of the nurses helped me get my underwear on, and helped me sit up. As I was fumbling with my pants, I nearly fainted. They waved smelling salts under my nose to wake me up....I let out a little yell, then pushed it away. After I was decent again, they took me to the recovery room, where they have reclining chairs, glasses of drinks, crackers, and pillows. I had to sit with the chair leaning back, and a pillow to put under my knees. I refused the drink, refused the crackers, and lay there, waiting to either die or recover. This one nice girl, who'd apparently had three abortions before, kept telling me that "it'll get better in a few minutes, you'll see". As much as I appreciated the show of cameraderie (sp?), I just wanted her to shut up.
Eventually, I recovered, though one nurse hovered around me for a while. Apparently, I was paler than most who come out of that procedure.
After recovering for twenty minutes, the contractions had subsided enough for me to go. They wrote me a prescription for an antibiotic and something to keep me from bleeding to death. Then, I made an appointment for a follow-up checkup in two weeks.
I didn't start crying until I got back in my car.
I'm so proud of myself.
Dirk comforted me for a couple minutes, but I had to get back home. We stopped on the way for gas, and Dirk picked out a selection of food (potato chips, kitkats, and chocolate chip cookies) to feed me as I drove. He was also careful to pamper me as much as possible.
After I dropped him off, the cramps got a lot worse, so I laid down as soon as I got home. Then, I picked Dirk, up, picked up my prescription, went home, and laid down again. This time, the painkillers weren't working. Goddammit.
I forced myself to be up and active again, so I picked up Dirk, we went out, we took a nap (he'd gotten almost no sleep during the day, and had to work at 11:30), and I went into Borders to use the restroom and read Calvin and Hobbes.
There was one woman at the clinic that was a mail-order bride or something. She didn't speak a word of english, seemed confused about the whole situation, and I don't think she really wanted an abortion. I think her husband wanted her to get one. She spent every second she was away from him looking like she was going to cry.
Okay, that's about it for the day. I also talked to Katie, Chris, Katie A, and Katie T, so I didn't feel as lonely as usual.
Hey, Glee, keep teaching the kid about the good things in life. Especially chanting "Scully kissed Monkey Boy!". That made my whole day worthwhile.
I'm going to sleep now. The cramps are getting worse.
(1:59a.m.)Okay, I gave in to curiousity and read Roachboy's e-mail. Apparently, it does give him a sick little thrill to gloat about my problems. It also gives him a little thrill to be mentioned, because he feels worthless and unloved where he lives. He'd prefer it if I put in some sexual fantasies about him, because he still wants me and it wounds him to think that I don't return his affection.
He is currently living in the back seat of a Yugo with his inflatable love-doll, Tara. They're having a baby, although he thinks it may actually be rats nesting inside her. He'd also like his tapes back, but he's not going to pay me back the $1,000 he owes me first, and he expects me to trust him. In return for the tapes, however, he will give me the last thirty dollars he owes me, as well as the Sandman book. Fuhgettaboutit. Unlike some people, I'm not hard up.
So, I made a few more sarcastic comments at his expense, told him that he wasn't seeing the tapes this side of hell, and blocked his new e-mail address.