I am far too pathetic and busy wallowing in misery with a nasty cold to do any form of exercise this week *cough, cough, sniffle*. We will just have to do two 9ks next week instead. Ick.
Nine months of HG Week 6 – Ton of Bricks, Sledgehammer, Truck, Roundhouse Kick... doesn't even come close!
Oh how the mighty fall! My smug face of week 5 rapidly fell into bitter disappointment followed by utter misery. Within mere days the great plan of healthy eating, exercise and shopping was swiftly discarded and replaced with retching on antiemetics, endless, mind-numbing bed rest and the desperate will just to survive each hour that passed. Despite my best efforts to eat and drink anything at all, healthy or not, the constant waves of intense, unrelenting nausea were overwhelming and by the end of the week 6 we were staggering into A&E begging for help.
Following a good few hours of being poked, prodded and scanned by A&E doctors (who hadn’t heard of HG) the Obstetrics team finally made an appearance, agreed a diagnosis of Hyperemesis Gravidarum, hooked me up to fluids and admitted me to the maternity ward where I festered overnight as the woman opposite me laboured and vomited and the woman beside me moaned to anyone who would listen about her failed induction. Truly a delight.
|Anna's First Picture!|
One terrible night of sleep later, the ward round got underway and those words were uttered for the first time. The Senior Consultant looked me straight in the eye and casually enquired “have you tried ginger?” On reflection, I probably should not have responded with “the next person to suggest ginger is going to get punched.” Still, surely a Senior Consultant should know better than to believe in the mystical powers of a root vegetable. However, when I was deemed rehydrated I was packed off home with some Metoclopramide to try alongside the Cyclizine.
To our relief, my Mum flew down from Aberdeen to help care for me. I had my Mummy, my pills, my picture, managed toast and had a cup of tea. Maybe I’d be alright…
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