mercoledì, ottobre 31, 2012

More international baby making

So it seems I no longer have just straight-out hypertension, but now have labile hypertension, which means my blood pressure fluctuates wildly from really fine to totally not fine. I'm not sure what that means in practice and I don't think my medical team does either, besides putting me on alert that I might get induced soon. But the baby and all of my internal organs seem to be in very good shape after multiple tests, and now that we're past week 38 I'm close to not giving a fuck. I don't want to be induced - cascade of interventions, etc. - and I don't want a Cesarean (BTW did I mention that they call them "caesars" here? Like the salad? It's distracting) because that will put a further two-week delay on me getting up and having a nice run and kayak. But I'm getting to the sweet spot of pregnancy where I'm quite, quite close to not giving a fuck. Let's wrap this shit up. Surgically, drugged-up-edly, in 24 hours of mind-bending pain, I don't give a fuck. Move on to being a mother, whatever that's going to be like, instead of being a massive cumbersome swamp donkey who can't stop eating Hobnobs. 

You know, I'm a champion whiner, but I've been so happy for the last eight years or so. I do question whether or not I have any idea what the fuck I'm doing throwing a new, dependent, pukey, poopy, soul-consuming ingredient into the mix. My midwife is childless, which I can't help but partly ascribe to her witnessing thousands of women tearing their own assholes open to deliver, but her explanation for it is that she has a terrific lifestyle and understands that a child will change that completely (and I doubt the almost wholly unpredictable shiftwork would be a benefit either - Luke Duke's wife is a midwife and their family is running a total juggling act where all the balls would go disastrously flying without the intervention of grandmothers). I have a really nice lifestyle too. I mean, one of the best I've ever even heard of. Why am I messing with it like this? And will my brain be able to make enough sense of it all to steer me away from post natal depression? Time will tell.

Elsewhere, in stuff-your-noise-Jessica-other-people-have-it-so-much-worse news, Lexie's old mum, who has moved to France and largely resolved her brain problems, is about to give birth at 32 weeks because of having a cervix only too willing to dilate. Worse things have happened. The outlook is pretty good for most babies born that early. But of course not 100% good, and it's certainly early enough to be concerned, and the baby will have to be incubated, and they will have to be full of worry for months. And on top of all that, she doesn't have coverage there - she's a resident, but hasn't got her carte vitale yet. Don't ask me how the fuck that happens, the situation is rather too serious to get judgey about. Her current hospitalization, which has been going on for some time, is running more than a thousand euros a day, and when the baby comes out and gets incubated, it will be much, much more. Fuck.

Reminds me of that story of the Australian couple who had their baby at 26 weeks in BC while they were on vacation and are now in hock to the province to the tune of a million bucks. Funny how Australia and Canada have a robust enough reciprocal fiscal regime that the debt is enforceable, but not a robust enough reciprocal medical regime that the mother and baby's expenses were covered by Australia's Medicare (which I suspect is actually a bit of bullshit on Canada's part - lots of countries have lots of reciprocal medical regimes, and Canada has none, which dollars to doughnuts is down to medical care being run by a series of provincial gas factories instead of by the federal government). Personally I made the decision not to travel abroad beyond the age of viability because of really not wanting to get into shit like that, and yes, I do seriously question the wisdom of couples who decide to travel abroad past the age of viability. But being incredibly dumb does not mean you should be in hock to the tune of a million dollars. Or else we'd all be in hock to the tune of a million dollars over something.

4 commenti:

e.f. bartlam ha detto...

I don't understand how people can be left holding the bag...when they're part of these Gov. systems. If your "coverage" ends at the border...you right, why would you ever leave...never mind being pregnant.

Hang in there...it's comin'. Don't worry about not knowing what your doing..nobody does. I doubt you'll really miss much of anything once the baby's here.

The baby's gonna be great..you're gonna be great.

Mistress La Spliffe ha detto...

With the benefit of a few days the judginess has started to inevitably settle in and there are a few things that if people don't know by the time they're ready to have children, they need to:

1. No travel insurance EVER covers premature births. They'll cover the mother in the event of a miscarriage that needs medical attendance, and may even cover the mother's hospitalization during a premature birth, but they NEVER cover the birth and the post-natal care. I know, I've checked, and that's why I was back here by week 24. Even that was pushing it since some fetuses can make it from week 22 these days.

2. It's possible to check on international reciprocal health agreements before travelling, and indeed it's ridiculous not to if you go anywhere after the age of viability

3. France has a smashing public health service that charges smashing prices if you don't have a carte vitale, which means you don't live in France without a carte vitale. Lexie's old mum is barely past thirty; it wouldn't have been some sort of catastrophe for her to wait a year or two before getting knocked up. I mean it's not getting the flu, for god's sake, there are ways to prevent it from happening.

Thanks for your words of reassurance - I have another midwife run today to see if anything radical needs to happen. My guess is they'll just up my medication because I'm still on a pretty tiny dose. But at this point I suspect I'm hoping I get induced in a couple of hours, even though I don't want to be, and am done with all this pregnancy jazz by Sunday.

Baywatch ha detto...

What do you get when you order a Caesar salad in the hospital caf?

Mistress La Spliffe ha detto...

Botulism.

BTW, since I know you all are waiting for baited breath about how Lexie's old mum's situation is panning out . . . they've discovered she's not covered, but the baby is. Which is the different between buying a new car and buying a new house. Lucky her.