The simple "dust and clean", as the ever-so-amusing nurse called it, turned out to be a little more dramatic than that. Because it's me. And if something's going to go wrong, it will.
I hemorrhaged during the surgery (apparently the likes of which the good doctor hadn't seen before in a simple D&C) and my uterus wouldn't contract. I ended up staying the night in the hospital with a balloon catheter in my uterus and a steady supply of Oxytocin in my arm. It was lovely. Just lovely.
The heavy bleeding had stopped by the time they transferred me to the hospital I slept at (the hospital I had the surgery in was a day facility only, so I had a bumpy ambulance ride with a chatty medic who told me his whole life story without taking a breath while my stomach churned and my tummy cramped), so other than a slightly disturbing near fainting spell when I finally got up to go to the bathroom at around 10:00pm, and a night punctuated by code blue alerts, the beeping of my IV machine and vital checks every few hours, the hospital stay itself wasn't too terrible.
But the rest of it, yeah. That was unnecessarily cruel if you ask me. And I have no idea what the hell the gods are thinking anymore. It was bad enough that I was there to miscarry our babies. That it ended up a much more frightening experience than it should have been is just plain mean. But, I suppose, par for the course.
Just our shitty luck.
I'm feeling much better. The cramping eased off around 2:00am last night, and only briefly returned when the doctor took out the balloon catheter this morning. So now I'm just very, very tired. Drained, sad and a little weak. And I look like hell.
I just can't wait to see what happens next.