. (guess who showed up?)
Today was my postpartum OB appointment and the irony of it all is that yesterday, 5 weeks to the day that Daniela was born, I got my period. Haha...oh, life, you're so funny.
All bleeding aside, the visit was pretty low-key; low-key, that is, if you consider breaking down in front of the nurse taking your vitals low-key.
The appointment started with a bang after I signed in at the desk and was called up shortly thereafter. Hmm...apparently, they did not have any appointment scheduled for me today. This of course caused me to have a mini-breakdown on the spot, tearfully telling the receptionist that I simply had to be seen today. I could have kissed her when she told me she could get me in with one of the other OBs (i.e., not my regular guy). I didn't care as I'd seen this other OB before and she was somewhat familiar with my care/story/etc.
I'm sure the nurse gave her the heads up after she took my vitals because the OB walked in and was immediately concerned, asking me how I was feeling, was I having any thoughts of hurting myself (no), and so on. She had heard a little bit about what had happened to Daniela and inquired as to how she was doing. She took some time with me, asking the right questions and just listening.
It was hard letting it out there but I did it. She gave me a two-week script for pr0zac, saying that she wants me to call her in two weeks time to let her know if I'm feeling any better and, if so, she'll call in the refill then. I couldn't get that script filled fast enough. Let's hope it starts working fairly soon, shall we?
Oh, and to top off the shit sandwich that was my day, when I turned on my car to leave the OB's office, a message popped up on my dash message center--tire pressure very low. So, um, yeah, turns out there's a screw in one of my tires--one of the four brand-new tires I bought at the dealer less than two weeks ago. Looks like I'll have to drive my happy ass back over there to get it plugged.
Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to head out to take the littlest monkey to the pediatrician. She may have reflux or some other such eating/swallowing/wtf? malady that makes her a screaming inconsolable banshee several times a day.
Yep, never let it be said that I can't roll with the punches, eh?