Dr. K finally got back to me. Oh well, at least when she does actually reach out to me, she is a least helpful and kind.
I am going to attempt to get this miscarriage show on the road with misoprostil this weekend. Along with a nice hospital grade painkiller. She thinks there's an 80% chance it will work, though it would have better odds if I was spotting. Apparently my placenta hasn't gotten the message that my baby is dead. Lovely.
We had a little chat about how my local pharmacist wouldn't fill my prescription for misopsostil when I needed one pill before my last D&E with Celine. She went on a little rant about ignorant pharmacists on their high-horses who have no idea what struggle a struggle it is for a woman carrying a much-wanted baby to need an abortion pill. If I had the wherewithall at the time I would have ripped the guy a new asshole. I actually realize now I blocked out the experience all these months because it was just another moment of horror in the tragedy, but I remembered that I needed her to send the script to a different pharmacy than my usual one. (Don't get me started about how my insurance only covers drugs from that pharmacy).
We then talked about next steps if it doesn't work. She asked where I heard about doing a D&C under ultrasound guidance, because she has had five patients recently requesting the same thing. Did they hear it from Dr. Oz? No, I laughed, it was Drs March in California and Isaacson in Boston, who treat women with Asherman's syndrome and recommend it. I reiterated my ugly history with Asherman's Syndrome to her.
Dr. K made an interesting comment about how she heard of Dr. March and how "self-promoting" he was and how he treated the unluckiest of patients.... she said that she wasn't truly sure that a D&C using ultrasound would prevent scarring in a patient who was prone to scarring, but ultimately, would be happy to give it a try for me. Being one of the "unluckiest of patients" I said, I think it's worth a try.
So I will take my first dose on Saturday, and if it doesn't work, another on Sunday. So much for doing that new zumba dvd I was looking forward to.
So here I sit, with a smile on my face for the first time in weeks. Because IF the drugs so work, I can finally grieve. I can move on. I can follow through on a diet and exercise plan that has been impossible to follow because I have hcg coursing through my bloodstream and I am tired as all fuck. For the last three weeks I have felt like a walking dumpling because my body is acting like it's pregnant.
I am visualizing the drugs working. The remaining sad end of this pregnancy will be the beautiful rose gold ring on my finger. I will be able to drop some weight and feel good, just like any normal woman you would meet on the street who is getting ready for the summer. Emphasis on the word normal. Someone who isn't always fucking pregnant or dealing with the aftermath of pregnancy. Someone who can pretend to not be living a series of mini-tragedies on a daily basis.
As always I'll take any and all prayers and positive vibes thrown my way.