The fight for healthcare part one

Being pregnant at 36 is very different than being pregnant at 24. It had been twelve years since I had experienced pregnancy. Changes had ocurred in about every possible way. My body was older, I felt more tired than I had remembered feeling before. And I remembered feeling very tired. For the first couple of months, I did feel pretty good though. I held out hope that hyperemsis had skipped me with this new pregnancy.

My husband had a prior commitment to go to Sacramento for two weeks and build a set for a high school play. I was sure I would be just fine. The first few days were fine, I threw up once or twice a day but nothing out of control. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. HG was back. I was unable to stop vomiting. I threw up over and over until every drop of bile was out of my stomach. It felt as if my stomach was a wash cloth and it was being rung out until every single drop was gone. I would get a rest for about five minutes until any amount of liquid had accumulated in my stomach and then I was vomiting again. I called my OB who said if it gets worse to call her. If it get's worse? How could it get worse?

The next day was more of the same. I would just vomit over and over without stopping. Then my sons came into my room to announce that the front bathroom was not working right. Somehow, I pulled myself together enough to walk into the front bathroom to find that the septic tank was backed up and sewage was backing up into the bathtub. I started crying. It was the kind of cry you get when you think there is no answer to a problem. There seemed just no way that the septic could get fixed or that I in this condition could deal with raw sewage. I was pretty sure I would never stop crying.

I called my husband in desparation. I told him how horrible everything was. I asked him if there was any possible way he could cut his trip short. He said he would work as quickly as he could and hoped that he could make it back soon. He called his mom and asked her to check in on me. She called me from San Jose and I cried some more. She said she would be up on Friday and I should just close the door to the front bathroom and have the boys use my bathroom. This seemed like the only solution possible at the moment. I continued to vomit repeatedly and to call my OB. Every day was the same answer, call tomorrow if it gets worse. My husband was able to make it home on Friday also. We went to the pharmacy on Friday evening to pick up my refill on my medicine to control the vomiting. The pharmacy informed us that the insurance had denied the claim and we either had to pay $25 per pill or go without. Even with the pills I was vomiting non stop, I knew without them, I was going to die. It literally felt as if the insurance company was sentencing me to death.

I went home and waited for death to come. The smell of the front bathroom pushed me over the edge. I just brought my pillow into my bathroom and sat up to empty the remnants of my stomach every few minutes. By Monday morning I was sure I was going to die. My husband had been fighting with the insurance company all morning and getting no where. Finally he told the plumbers that we had to go to the hospital and asked them to just leave a bill when they were done. One look at me and they didn't question our need to leave. I brought the sweet soft blanket I had bought for our baby with me. I wanted to feel something to remind me that there was a reason I was going through this agony. We would eventually have a baby at the other end of this pain.

While in the hospital, the ER doctor said, "Your OB told us that next time you get this sick you really need to let them know. Don't let it get this bad again." I was too sick to point out that I called them every day for a week and a half. A couple of IVs later, I felt much better. I could walk upright and even drank half of a sprite! They gave me a shot of Zofran and it was a miracle drug. I didn't feel the slightest need to vomit. They weighed me. I had lost eleven pounds and was 13 weeks pregnant.

This tug of war with the insurance company lasted for the next few months as I battled HG. When I was able to get my Zofran as scheduled, I only threw up a couple of times a day. But without the Zofran, I was back to vomiting non stop around the clock. Finally they agreed to pay for nine pills at a time which meant I had a 25 dollar copay every three days. Even that was too much money considering I hadn't been able to work for weeks. This tug of war lasted the remainder of my pregnancy. But was not the worst thing that happened. That was still to come.