The most amazing Doctor

This is the man that saved my life in 2010.  He is the most incredible doctor and person, and I just had to get a snap of him with Ashton.  I will always be grateful to him for saving me...

Gynaes and... Podiatrists? Checkup etc

So I went for my checkup yesterday, my doc is very happy, he says everything looks normal, and good. Yay!
DH and I were chatting about it in bed last night, and he said he thinks I'm protected, and I shouldnt' worry to much about stuff.

So we were giggling about doctors poking and prodding and what not, then I said to him, so if Gynaes are for women, what are for men?

Guess what he said.... "Podiatrists??"

Wahahaha...... So I said did you get "Podia.. from Penis?"

Had a good laugh, for a long time, it felt good!

Hospital Bills

I’m so thankful for medical aid.  That’s all I can say.  They paid almost everything and our contribution is only a small portion.  We can’t believe just how much this has cost.  I don’t think I could deal with a financial burden on top of everything else.

Check Up...

9th February

After sitting in the waiting room for over an hour, the doctor finally came out and called my name. DH and I made our way slowly to his office. He chatted to us for a bit, explaining what he did during the surgery and showed us on a chart where exactly the rupture happened. He said that normally ectopic pregnancies rupture at about 4 weeks, but in my case the egg got stuck in the wider part of my fallopian tube, which meant it had the space to grow to the size it did. He was very concerned, asked about my support system, about how I’m feeling and says he feels I need to see someone to work through the grief and the loss, cause it was a baby already (the pregnancy measured 7cm x 3cm). We asked about my hormones and he said they should be in check as I still have my ovary. DH was worried that it would take longer to fall pregnant again, and the doctor said he need not worry too much about it, and that hopefully I should have no problem falling pregnant again. He said us women ovulate from a different side each month, and even though I have no fallopian tube on the right hand side, the egg could still get to where it needs to be on the other side, although it's not common. It can still happen that everything reaches the right place, even if from the wrong side.

He reckons we should be good to start trying again in about 6 weeks time, but wants me to come in for a checkup first before he gives us the go ahead and that I need to continue taking my folic acid as that is super important.

I asked about the chances of this happening again and he says there is a 25% chance, however it is not common. He did say though this is very difficult to pick up, he will watch me like a hawk next time to make sure everything is ok. I think 25% is a big risk, but if I think of the 75% chance it won’t happen (just to put it into perspective, I think I will take the chance).

The doctor wanted to see how I was healing from the surgery. He helped me up onto the bed and to lie back. I was so useless, and it hurt doing anything. He said he was happy with my progress and that my cut looked good. I guess good is good considering the things he must have seen before. On the way out the doc laughed and said he is so glad I’m ok, and that I really freaked him out last week. Him and the anaesthetist. You think?

DH and I went looking at tiles (he’s decided to redo the bathroom), and went to a Thai restaurant for lunch. On the way home he said he couldn’t believe he could have lost me, and then said he doesn’t know how he would have carried on without me. Of course I had another cry, we both did, but I think this has brought us closer together. It’s frightening how quickly things can change, what you have today might not necessarily be there tomorrow.

The support I’ve received from family and friends is amazing, I think I’ve drawn most of my strength from them.

Ectopic what?

I got onto google to find out a bit more about what happened to me.


"An ectopic pregnancy, or eccyesis, is a complication of pregnancy in which the pregnancy implants outside the uterine cavity.  With rare exceptions, ectopic pregnancies are not viable.  Furthermore, they are dangerous for the mother, internal bleeding being a common complication.  Most ectopic pregnancies occur in the fallopian tube (so-called tubal pregnancies)...  and if not treated properly, can lead to death."


"Common symptoms of a ruptured ectopic pregnancy include lightheadedness, dizziness, almost passing out, "falling out"/ pale complexion, clammy-feeling skin/ sweaty/ fast heartbeat/ abdominal or pelvic pain so sever that you can't even stand up/ shoulder pain"


"If the area of the abnormal pregnancy ruptures and bleeds, symptoms include abnormal vaginal bleeding, breast tenderness, back pain, nausea, pain in pelvic area, feeling faint or actually fainting, intense pressure in the rectum, shoulder pain, severe, sharp and sudden pain in lower abdomen, pale complexion, clammy skin, sweaty, fast heartbeat, severe nausea, and being short of breath"


Picture of a tubal pregnancy (pregnancy in the fallopian tube):

Details on my surgery:

I've been getting confused by all the different procedures out there.... laparoscopy, laparotomy, salpinlalala etc.  So many people have asked what surgery was done.

I got a laparotomy.  Big Ouch.  It's the one where they slice you open along your hairline, so you're sporting a caesarian-like scar, and my fallopian tube was removed (what ever that is called).

I need a medical dictionary don't I?

Home Sweet Home

I can’t remember what time it was when I got home from the hospital. Everything was surreal.

I do remember that my mom was flying up to spend a few days with us and take care of me. We got home from the hospital and DH helped me get upstairs and into bed. I was so thankful that our bed is a little higher than normal, but getting into it was still almost impossible. He stayed with me for a while, set up the internet for me so I could keep myself busy, and then left for the airport. As soon as the door closed I felt the tears streaming down my face.

I started researching what had just happened to me, still trying to comprehend what I had been through. I clicked onto a poem online somewhere. I think I would have cried my heart out, if part of it was not already missing.

This is the poem:

I cried, and cried. I wanted to get it all out before DH came home with my mom, but it hurt to cry. I curled up on my side, hugging onto a pillow. I felt empty, and broken. My only child of this world is gone, but I am here. It’s bittersweet.

Emergency Room (Part 2)

I was taken to ICU and told that I would be there for about 3 days. I didn’t want to be there, just wanted to go home. I felt stiff, and sore, and my stomach was swollen up like a balloon. I tried moving but couldn’t really. It felt like I was paralysed in my lower abdomen. DH was there, cause I heard his voice. He was asking the doctor if I was okay and how the surgery went, and he wanted to know, again, that I could still have children. The doctor said he removed my right fallopian tube, and repaired the one on the left, and yes, I would be able to have children one day. He then said I lost six pints of blood, they gave me four of my own back and two pints from the fridge. I looked up to my left and there was a bag of blood attached to a needle in my wrist. The other one in my hand was for something else. Someone put a pipe over my head and I got a fright. It freaked me out and I didn’t like it. DH told me to relax and that it was just oxygen. I felt better then. I felt okay. The doctor aske me how I was feeling and I told him I felt a lot better than I did when I first arrived. The aneasthetist also came to see that I was okay. I was the centre of attention.

A lady walked in a few moments later, she was introduced as Kgomotso, the physiotherapist. She greeted me and said she would see me the following day to get me up to walk. The last thing on my mind was walking. I don’t know how much morphine they gave me, cause I felt only a little pain, but I felt like I was drunk. Not such a nice feeling. I got my own nurse, and she was really amazing. I was still thirsty but wasn’t allowed to have anything until the next day, when my intestines had settled. Someone gave DH some ice that I could suck on in the mean time. He also bought me a set of headphones so I could watch tv. I wasn’t in the mood, I just wanted to lie there alone. After a while DH left to go home and get me some toiletries and I was left to rest. He said he would be back later. I prayed later that day, again, to thank God for saving me, to thank him that I was brought here just in time, to thank him that I got another chance, and promised him I would be a better person.


Later that evening the nurses shift changed, and I got a new nurse. She came to stand at my left side, introduced herself, and said she heard my story from another nurse, and that she is so sorry for me. She then cried and said life isn’t fair, and we all have our stories, and then went on to say she is working night shift cause she has no other choice. Her family had been shot in riots in the squatter camps. I felt really bad for her.

DH arrived later, I think it was at 20h45, it was late. He walked in with my brother who looked like he was about to burst into tears. My brother hugged me, said he was happy that I was ok, and walked out. I guessed I was a sight for sore eyes, full of pipes and drips and bags, hooked up to the vital signs monitor. There were four colours. Green, blue, yellow and red. Green was for my pulse, blue was oxygen (I think), red was my blood pressure and I forget what the yellow one was for. DH said my father was there and he would go and get him. I thought to myself - great, just what I need to put my dad through. My dad and his girlfriend came around the corner and he turned white as a sheet. I’ve never seen my dad cry but he had tears in his eyes today. They both stood on either side and held my hands. They didn’t say much and I was glad for the silence. Soon it was time to go and I was tired out from the visit. DH had brought a few toiletries.

I woke up every now and then throughout the night, I asked for more morphine. The day nurse told me I get to have as much morphine as I want when I’m in ICU. I wasn’t going to give this up. I looke around the ICU ward, there were about twelve rooms, with the nurse’s station in the middle. The lights out there were so bright. My room was so bright. I was glad when they turned off the lights. The clock right infront of me was driving me insane. I just watched the time go.

In the morning the nurse came in, it was now bath time. Lovely, bath time and I couldn’t move. DH forgot to pack a towel and face cloth. Nice. She went to get some that belonged to the hospital. I’ve never been washed in a bed, I wouldn’t recommend it. Rolling over was the worst part - I couldn’t, I was holding on to the side bars of the bed with dear life as the nurses did their thing, washing me from head to toe. Then they had to change the bedding. I couldn’t even see how that would’ve been possible. But they did it, and it was painful for me. I even got a fresh nightgown. Getting into it was a problem. I had so many pipes coming out of me they had to carefully unhook my blood bad and my drip bag, pull them through the sleeves of the gown, hook them back up again, make sure everything was right, and then only could they pull my arms through. I wasn’t happy at all, they could have been a bit more gentle with me. I felt the one needle move in my wrist and it hurt. They use a clear, thick, sticky tape to hold the needles in place. Perfect, I wonder if they ever realized how long my arm hairs were? They eventually left me in peace. Still no breakfast or liquids for me until the doctor came by. Everyone kept asking me if I gym a lot or run a lot because my pulse was so good. I laughed a small laugh and said no, I really should run or gym, but I don’t. I use my mind a lot. Does that count? Then I said I don’t smoke, it could be that.

The doctor came by later on that morning while he did his rounds. He looked happy with my progress. He said they can take me to the normal ward, I was going to be just fine. He also said they should not put me in the natal ward, but take me to head & neck. I asked him if I could eat or drink something and he said yes, I could. About time! Someone brought me a paper menu so I could choose my breakfast, lunch, and supper. The day nurse was back for her shift and she was chatting away. I really liked her. She ordered a porter to take me to the other ward, and said there is a bed waiting for me. I told her I wasn’t sure I could get out of this one and into that one. Kgomotso arrived, also chatty, and we did some exercises in the bed. She showed me how to roll over, and get up, and get back into bed. How could something so simple, something I do every day without thinking, be almost impossible to do now? It hurt, I wanted to cry, but I did everything she asked of me, except walk. I did get out of the bed, I couldn’t stand up straight, I hobbled over like an old woman. I told her I couldn’t walk around just yet, and she said it was okay and helped me get back into bed. I needed to sneeze, she said I need to hold my wound and pull my knees in. I did just in time, I thought I was going to rip my stitches. I hadn’t even seen my wound yet. She looked at it when the nurse came to change my dressing, and they both said it looks great. Great for major abdominal surgery. The porter arrived.

After getting a few surprise visits, I realised that DH must have phoned the whole world in his panic. It was good to see my friends. I also got some beautiful flowers and they really did their job by cheering me up. Breakfast came but I didn’t have much of an appetite, neither with lunch, nor dinner. 

Getting up for the first time to walk around was tremendously painful and difficult, and tiring. Who would have thought that trying to do such normal things can take so much out of you. And that was just to the loo and back. And I got stuck. After struggling to get out of the bed, I got ready to try and walk to the bathroom. I then realised I needed to walk with my drip, but it was plugged into the wall. I was stuck! I didn’t know what to do and I couldn’t exactly run to the nurses station to ask. I looked at the bed and lying over there on the opposite end was the call button. Great. Just my luck. I shuffled back to the bed, leaned painfully over it and grabbed the call button. After what seemed like far too long, the nurse arrived and asked what is wrong. I told her I’m stuck and I NEED to go to the loo. She laughed and said I must just pull the chord out the back of the drip machine and press cancel when the alarm goes off. I thought to myself wow, at least if I get shocked, I’m already in the hospital. Go figure. So off I went to do my thing. 

When I opened the bathroom door, DH had arrived and he smiled when he saw me. I think he was happy to see I was up and out of bed. I told him I needed to walk around a bit so he helped me put on my dressing gown and walked with me. We couldn’t have walked far but I was exhausted by the time we got back to the ward.

His dad popped in to see me, and he was sitting on the edge of my bed and we were all chatting when my doctor came in to check on me. Lucky me being the centre of attention. I actually wished for a moment that everyone would just leave me alone. I hadn’t even cried properly yet.

Night time came and the nurse asked me if I would like tablets or an injection to help me sleep. I told her I want an injection, I thought that would start working quickly. It did.

Soon I was allowed to go home. The drive home was long, and difficult. I felt every bump in the road. But I was going home.

Emergency Room (Part 1)

I found out I was pregnant on 31 December, what a beautiful start to the New Year. I was over the moon to be carrying the product of our love. I thought 2010 would be a year of great things, little did I know.

I had a scare, some bleeding in the second week in January. I was rushed to the emergency room. They didn’t do much, didn’t take blood, check blood pressure, nothing. Just an external scan and I was told it’s too early to see anything. So home we went, without feeling any better about it.

A few weeks passed, I reached 8 weeks with hardly any more scares, and for a moment I thought everything is going to be okay. I took it easy, got a lot of rest, didn’t go out except to work. Again I thought everything is going to be okay. I had the symptoms, I did a few more home pregnancy tests just to be sure. I was still pregnant. Little did I know. 

On 2 February I was nine weeks along, that’s just over two months. I was so excited for my first appointment on 4 February. Anyhow, this day started like any other, I struggled to wake up (sleep is your best friend when you are pregnant), drove myself to work and continued with the day. 

At 11h30 I went to the bathroom. I got a huge fright, more bleeding, but no cramps at all. I should be okay right? I rushed upstairs to make tea for visitors, and as I put the tray down on the table I felt faint. I walked quickly to the bathroom again, just in time for the gush of blood that was about to arrive. With it came cramps, no, huge cramps, I couldn’t think straight, I couldn’t sit, I couldn’t stand, I couldn’t see. I had locked myself in the bathroom and was wondering how anyone would get me out if something happened to me. I was shaking, sweating, dizzy, feeling faint. More cramps, worse than the huge ones I previously mentioned. I couldn’t cry, I was just in too much pain. After some time, I managed to get myself sorted out, stand up, rinse my face with water and started making my way back to my desk.

I sat down at my desk, the cramps still continued, only getting worse, I couldn’t believe they could get any worse. Someone wanted something printed, and I couldn’t move, I had to ask for help. I was still shaking, sweating, feeling more dizzy than before. I started seeing white spots - I wondered if this is what people call “blinding pain” because that is what it felt like. I phoned Kevin, told him he needs to come and fetch me and that something is very very wrong. I wanted to cry but I couldn’t. I could hardly talk. People in the office noticed that something was wrong with me, they asked if I’m feeling okay because I was so pale. Pale. I hadn’t even looked in the mirror in the bathroom. Maybe it’s best that I didn’t. I couldn’t say much more than “no, I’m going, I phoned”. 

Just then a colleague and friend took my phone and phoned DH, told him she is taking me to the Emergency Room close to work. I couldn’t argue, I just said “yes, please”. She helped me down the stairs to her car, I couldn’t see or walk properly. I flopped into the car, feeling like I was going to die. Knowing that at least the pain would stop if I did die. Someone brought my bags to the car apparently, I didn’t even notice.

It couldn’t have taken long to get to the hospital, but every second felt too long. Every traffic light was red. She told me to breathe, deeply. I did. We pulled up to the emergency ward, and I couldn’t get out of the car. They had to come and get me. I just handed my medical card to my friend and she took my phone as well. 

I was wheeled into a little room, and had to answer a few questions. Would you believe me if I told you that I could hardly say my own name? I managed an “I’m pregnant” but that was all I could say. I was so nauseated, but I couldn’t throw up. I couldn’t really do anything. I was taken straight to casualty, where they helped me onto a bed, hooked me up to a drip and checked my blood pressure. My BP was so low the doctors looked a bit worried, I think it was something over 35. I couldn’t lie flat on the bed, I had to keep my legs up cause anything I did just made me feel more pain. They told me they suspect it’s one of two things: Miscarriage or a ruptured Ectopic Pregnancy and if it is the second, I will need surgery. Immediately. They need to stop the bleeding and remove the “baby”. If it is a miscarriage there is nothing they can do except help me with the pain. They were going to send me for an ultrasound to rule one of the two out. Kevin arrived just as they were telling me their what they suspected, I was so relieved to see him. Then it hit me, I will never get to see or hold my baby. Ever. I couldn’t physically cry but the tears were streaming down my face. Some guy arrived to take blood, with his kit. It looked like he was carrying a tool box. I forget the colour. I didn’t even feel the needles going in, neither with the drip, nor the blood. They struggled for a while to get a vein, eventually I had to try pump my hand but not even that worked. The emergency doctor pressed my stomach and I had to tell her where it was sore, it was sore everywhere. I was so thirsty, my mouth was so dry. They told me I couldn’t drink anything before the surgery but I could have a sip of water. I would have done anything for that sip.

I was given some morphine to ease the pain and wheeled down for an emergency ultrasound. They put the sides of the bed up. DH had to fill in some forms so he stayed behind. The nurse and I had to wait when we got there, and she gave me more morphine. I still felt so much pain, I didn’t know where the physical pain ended and the heartbreak began. She started telling me about her cousin who had an ectopic pregancy. I started chatting to her and asking questions for two reasons - one, to try take my mind off the pain and two, in case this was what was happening to me. 

Soon DH was there with me, holding my hand. He had a cup with him, with literally a sip of water in it. He tried to give it to me but missed, and I ended up with a wet neck. So much for that. The ultrasound confirmed I had “free fluid” inside, evidence of a ruptured ectopic pregnancy. Free fluid is evidence of severe internal bleeding. The radiologist looked further, to find where the rupture was, and there it was, clear as day. On the right hand side, in my fallopian tube. How could this be happening to me? Didn’t I deserve my child? What have I wrong? OMG I have to go for surgery. Now. I wanted to cry but didn’t, I looked at DH to see if he was ok, then I just stared at the ceiling. This was happening to me. 

I was rushed back to casualty with the sonar pictures, and diagnosis to wait for the doctor and aneasthetist to arrive. The doctor was there in two minutes. I was happy to see him, if you can call it that. He was going to stop this pain. He explained that I need to go for surgery now, and the nurse had to get consent from me - first for the surgery, and second, If I need blood, so that they can they give me a transfusion. She explained that even though all blood is properly screened and checked, there is always a small risk involved. I gave her a worried look, and she said I am allowed to refuse, but then they cannot help me should I need blood. For a split second I thought, how can I make this decision now? It’s huge. Then I thought, either I die today or I take the blood and take a risk.

I wasn’t allowed to sign since I was drugged with morphine, but DH signed for me. I wonder what he must have felt when he signed. The doctor left to let the nurse undress me. She quickly undressed me and slipped on one of those open back gowns. She worked quickly, pulling my drip bag and chord through, then my arms. They kept asking if I wanted blankets, and I didn’t, I was getting so hot. 

I looked at DH and asked “do you think I am going to die?” - I don’t know how he held a straight face, but he said “no, you are going to be just fine”. He then said he needs to phone our family. I begged him not to, but he said he needs to phone. I could hear him where he was talking, sitting on the bench a few steps away, but not properly. I tried to focus on what he was saying but the pain was so intense I could only hear bits and pieces. I heard him sigh, saw him put his head down in his free hand, and then I heard “something is wrong”, “it’s serious”, “they are taking her into surgery now”... A few minutes and the doctor returned, and he cut is call short. I don’t know who he was talking to. The doctor asked if we have any questions. DH asked him to make sure that I can have babies in future, he kind of pleaded with him.

Quickly, they took me into to theatre. They kept saying I was so pale, and my blood pressure was too low. They couldn’t operate until it picked up a bit, and the anaesthetist still hadn’t arrived. The room was bright, with lots of lights above me. The doctor held my hand, rubbed my face and told me to stay with him. The aneasthetist got there and would you believe he took one look at me and said he’s never seen someone as pale as me. I felt someone rubbing my other arm, and a nurse put another needle into my left hand, one into my left arm, and one of those rubber things that measure your pulse on my finger. The one was for the blood should I need it. Somebody was told to fetch a bag of blood out of the fridge and go and warm it up. The other was for the anesthetic. My eyes were getting heavy and I asked for a blanket. The theatre is a bit cooler than the emergency room. The doctor was still there holding my hand. He asked me “Do you believe in God” and I answered “Yes”. He then said “You and I are in God’s hands now”. he aneasthetis started administering the anesthetic and told me to keep my eyes open. I tried, but eventually they just closed.

I’m still not entirely sure what happened just before I woke up in recovery, I was so confused. I thought I pulled a pipe out of my mouth, but there when I looked at my hand there was no pipe in it. I looked up and saw the doctor. I asked him what happened with the pipe, and he asked what I mean, and I then said “nevermind, I’m just confused, I can’t remember anyway”. He smiled and said “It is by God’s grace that you are still here, you lost so much blood”. I smiled at him, and said thank you. I was there for a while until I was completely awake. I wanted my DH.