You Want Me to Do What?!?!?!

Yesterday evening turned out to be more eventful than I planned. (However, it isn't too terribly hard to beat a frozen dinner with Charlie Gibson, Pat Sajak, and Alex Trebek as dinner guests.)

After several days of an intense pain on my right side that was coming and going depending on whether or not I was sitting or standing, I decided I should call the doctor. What actually prompted me to finally call was the fact that the pain did not subside upon sitting, which was the pain's M.O. Now when I called, this was what I had in mind for their response: "Oh, we're sure it's fine. It's probably just the baby's elbow or foot sticking in an uncomfortable position. Nothing to worry about." Then I would hang up and head for my frozen dinner. Instead they said, "Why don't you come in and see the physician's assistant in 30 minutes and that will give you some peace of mind." Despite that plan being a little more involved than what I was looking for, I agreed since peace of mind was what I was looking for after all. For about 15-20 of the interim 30 minutes I was on the phone with my dad (talking about hairstyles and such) and thus did not respond to the call waiting beeping in my ear.

After I got off the phone with my dad, I received a message telling me to just go ahead and go to the hospital so they could do a Non Stress Test. What!?!?!? No, No, No. Remember, it is just an inappropriately positioned elbow. No big whoop, remember? Alas, I headed to the hospital feeling a little like a tool since I was confident what I was feeling wasn't worth all this fuss, but still looking for the previously mentioned peace of mind. Fortunately, both the hospital and the doctor's office are literally across the street. As I was driving over I called Andy, or, to be more precise, I called the dentist's office and gave them a message to give to Andy. I asked the receptionist to as calmly as possible tell him where I was and what was going on. Fortunately, again, the dentist's office is also across the street from the hospital.

After filling out some suprisingly short forms in the lobby of Labor and Delivery, I sat and waited to be called back. Andy arrived in that time, which was good. After the nurse took us back I got to practice getting into the gown, which really should come with instructions. I'm not brilliant, but I'm not an idiot either, and I needed a dadgum diagram to figure out how to align all the appropriate pieces. I was really pretty content in my shorts and t-shirt. I'm pretty sure I should've just stuck with that!

Anyway, I feel as if I am belaboring (ha!) this story. To make it short(er), the test indicated that I was (and still am) actually having contractions, but it was unclear to the nurse whether or not they were real or not. Thus, we got a doctor's visit also, which was super fun-I especially liked the part where she stuck her hand up me to check my cervix. That's what she said she was doing anyway; it felt more like she was digging for buried treasure. Or a buried submarine.

In the end, the conclusion was that it was false labor, which I think seems really fricking unfair. I can deal with pain if we are getting somewhere, but pain just for the hell of it and to confuse me-WTF!?!?!? Hopeful that something might be gained from the experience, yet knowing the answer ahead of time, I asked the doctor if the presence of false contractions would allow us any insights into any kind of timeline. Nope. (Unfair, I say, unfair!) Instead, I was sent home with instructions to take a bath, have some Tylenol and go to bed. (She must have just forgotten the part about making margaritas.)

The end result: "an intense pain of my right side that comes and goes depending on whether I am standing or sitting." Plus a little peace of mind.