March 31st, 2010 by

Today, Sanofi-Aventis announced that it’s getting into the glucose meter manufacturing business, by partnering with a small company known for highly accurate meter technology, AgaMatrix (makers of WaveSense products, based on a patented electrochemistry formula).
Reports say the new Sanofi-branded meters will be out later this year, and that this move is part of a larger [...]

Source: AmyT

March 31st, 2010 by

If this has me laughing like a total goofball after five days of captivity, I fear what might be funny by the second week of this bed rest journey:

And mark my words:  When I get home, I’m teaching Siah how to Trololo.

Source: Six Until Me.

March 31st, 2010 by

I have fake Factor V Leiden.

Okay, not exactly "fake," but this blood disorder can come in two forms:  heterozygous and homozygous.  I have Factor V Leiden heterozygous, which means I have one mutated allele and am a higher risk for deep vein thrombosis than your average blogger, but not as high as my homozygous counterparts. 

I didn’t know this disorder was part of my genetic makeup until about a year and a half ago, after a family member was diagnosed and prompted the rest of us to get screened.  And at that time, I didn’t have to make many changes, other than switching my birth control pill and popping a baby aspirin before I got on a plane.

But playing host to my little lady friend now, Ms. BSparl, raises risk factors for clotting across the board.  Which means that I need to regard Factor V as a viable enemy, instead of "just that thing." Between bed rest (aka "lazy lump of Kerri), pregnancy (aka "growing awesome baby"), and Factor V (aka "blargh"), I’m at an increased risk of throwing a clot, so precautionary measures are being taken.

Namely:  compression boots and Heparin shots.

The boots don’t bug me.  I know some people on Twitter were a little split on their opinions, but I am holding on to about 10lbs of fluid below the knees, so these boots (which blow up and relax in a way that compresses my legs and keeps the circulation at an optimal level) are helping to alleviate some of the swelling.  I wore them for a few hours and after taking them off, I saw my ankles again.  ANKLES!  Hadn’t seen those suckers in about two weeks, so that was a treat.  Ankles and I had tea and crumpets and celebrated their re-emergence. 

What bugs me are the Heparin shots.  For several reasons. 

First off, I’m not on complete bed rest.  I’m on modified bed rest, so that means I’m able to use the bathroom, shower, and wander to the kitchenette for ice water and tea.  So the idea of taking an anti-coagulant because of my doctor’s requests that I lay low just makes me feel plain lazy.  Lazy and I?  We don’t get along, not even in theory.  I’d much rather do a little exercising every day instead of taking these injections, but I do understand that the priority is keeping my blood pressure down, watching the swelling, and – oh yeah – resting.

Secondly, the concept of Heparin freaks me out because if my situation progresses quickly and my daughter needs to be delivered without much notice, this whole mess goes from "scheduled c-section" to "actual surgery," where I’ll need to be put under and wouldn’t be awake for the birth of the most important person I’ll ever know.  In that situation, Chris wouldn’t be able to be in the delivery room and I wouldn’t see BSparl until I came around from the anesthesia.  That does NOT sound like a fun plan to me.  Granted, Heparin takes 4 – 6 hours to get out of my system, so this kind of emergency situation is unlikely (especially considering how often they monitor me here), but still, I’m uneasy at the thought.

And thirdly, the shots suck.  Royally.  Even though I’ve asked to use an insulin syringe and administer the injections myself, the pain is sharp, and the bruising is intense.  It looks like someone stuck violet petals all over the backs of my arms and on my thighs, but that’s making it sound too pretty.  Actually, it looks more like the nurses come in here at night, grab me violently by the arms, and shake me around until I yell "Uncle!"  (Or, more likely, "Nurse!)  Here, have a look:

Ghastly.  And other than the look of it, it’s hard to find real estate to inject the Heparin into, seeing as how my lower back is claimed by the pump and my legs have dibs called by the Dexcom.

I’m having blood drawn today to check the levels of anti-coagulant in my body, which will help my medical team see if this is the right course of treatment for me to actually be on.  I think this just gets chalked up to "another hurdle during a high risk pregnancy," and while I’m bitching about it now, the payoff (read:  cuddling with my kiddo) far outweighs any arm bruises or discomfort.

Source: Six Until Me.

March 31st, 2010 by

Russian-born Michael Ostrovsky is a board certified anesthesiologist, practicing cardiac anesthesia here in the San Francisco Bay Area. He’s one of the few MDs who’s not only extremely web-savvy, but is actually part of the Health 2.0 and Social Media movement as co-founder of Medgadget.com, sort of the “Engadget” of the medical technology world. Lucky [...]

Source: AmyT

March 30th, 2010 by

By virtue of the name itself – "bed rest" -  you’d think I’d be sleeping a ton and feel all squishy and relaxed here at the hospital.  Like a spa, only with crappy food.

Oh hell no.  Because of the nature of pre-eclampsia, and having a high risk pregnancy to begin with, I’m under constant supervision.  This is a good thing, because the doctors and nurses here absolutely know how to handle any circumstance that crops up, but it’s a tough thing sometimes because the "rest" part of this is hard to achieve when the door is opening and people need vitals all day long.

My day begins around 5:45 am, when the resident on call pops in and checks up on my basal rates, blood sugars, and overall puffiness.  Her questions are usually the same – "Any bleeding?  Spots in your vision?  Pain in your upper right side?"  I’m happy that I can answer "No," to these questions.  And then she leaves. 

My nurse comes in at about 7:00 am to review blood sugars, liquid intake, urine output, takes my blood pressure and temperature, and gets the heartbeat on the baby (which is a great way to wake up in the morning, to the sound of my daughter’s galloping heartbeat).  She leaves, I test my blood sugar, and try to go back to sleep.

But at 8 am, the Joslin team comes in and does a review of my blood sugars, basal rates, and everything else diabetes-related.  (Basically, I review the same information about three times before 8:30 in the morning.)  We review and/or make adjustments as needed, and their crew leaves in a flurry of labcoats.

(At this point, I order breakfast from the kitchen and hope it doesn’t arrive while I’m in the shower, because nothing is more awkward than "Room service!" trilling in from the door while I’m making attempts to wash my hair with these enormously swollen hands.)

10 am brings the nurse back to my room with a dose of Heparin (fun shit) and my Labetalol pill.  I’ve asked to administer the Heparin myself, because there’s something about the way that the nurses give the injection that makes my skin bruise ferociously.  (Pictures to come soon of those messy bruises.)  So instead of using the normal "horse needles," they’re letting me use insulin needles and give the shots myself, which helps a lot in managing the bruising and pain.

After the medications, they hook me and BSparl up to a fetal monitor, which keeps track of her heart beat, her movements, and any contractions in my uterus.  She’s been dubbed "busiest baby on the floor" because she’s a very active little biscuit, and even though I’m attached to the monitor for 40 minutes, it’s comforting to hear the sound of her heartbeat filling the room.

And then it’s like lunch time(ish), and I make futile attempts to catch up on emails, check in with work stuff, and read some blogs.  My hands are beyond swollen, so computer work is very limited and after about 30 minutes of typing, the pain is pretty intense.  (And from what I’ve been told, after I deliver the baby, I’ll swell up even more for another day or two before it starts to subside.  This kid better love the hell out of my Cookie Monster mitts and Fred Flintstone feet.  )

The afternoon seems to vary, but always includes input/output tracking for my liquids, at least a few hours laying on my left side to alleviate the stress on my kidneys, and my watching of an episode of Law & Order: SVU. (Best.  Show.  EVER.)  And a vitals check from the nurse staff.  (Yesterday had a bonus visit to the radiology department, where I had an ultrasound and saw my daughter’s chubby cheeks.  I love her.)

Evening includes dinner.  And usually a few phone calls.  And another round on the fetal monitor.  Sometimes I make attempts at the computer again, but it all depends on what my hands are agreeing to follow through on.

10 pm has the nurses visiting again with my prenatal vitamins (Note:  They let me keep bottles of insulin in my room but they confiscate my prenatal vitamins?  Not sure if they think I’m hooked on DHA or something.) and the second dose of Labetalol.  Vitals are taken again.

Midnight brings the second dose of Heparin, and another check of the baby’s heartbeat and my blood pressure.  After the nurses leave, I try and collapse into bed and fall asleep.

Until 3:30 am, when the nurses return for another heartbeat check, blood pressure check, and blood sugar check.  Check, check, check … 

Bored yet? Well-rested, are ya?  This is the day in-day out routine for the next two weeks, and I’m snoooooring at the very thought (yet unable to really sleep because I have nurses visiting every few hours).  But BSparl and I are being watched so carefully and so closely that if any issues crop up, they won’t take anyone by surprise.  That helps keep she and I safest, I think.

But for now, it’s boooooooring.  Thank goodness for my parents, who have come by with flowers, entertaining pictures colored by my nephew, and magazines.  Thank goodness for my mother-in-law, who calls daily to check in and reminds me that this is only temporary.  Thank goodness for my best friends, who call often and keep me in the loop on what the hell is going on in the "real world."  Thank goodness for the Internet, which is letting me connect with you guys and Facebook crap and all the other nerdy connection points that I’m relying on when I’m the only person in my hospital room.

And thank goodness for Chris, who is shuffling back and forth between our house and the hospital, working hard to prepare the nursery (we didn’t have much notice on this visit, so things are a little bit in disarray for Ms. BSparl), maintain our home, and oh yeah, work?  When he comes here and sleeps over, just having him in the room makes everything easier.  (I’m just waiting for one of the nurses to accidentally try and get his blood pressure.)

… it doesn’t hurt that as soon as BSparl hears his voice, she gets all bugged out and wants to dance.  She loves her daddy.  I think she likes me okay, too.  I’m hopeful that the next two weeks go by as smoothly as possible, keeping her safe and happy in there, and eventually bringing her out to us. 

So we can hold her and dance with her on the outside.

Source: Six Until Me.

March 30th, 2010 by

I just knew that working with expert CDE Gary Scheiner was going to be eye-opening. After all, I’ve barely touched the settings on my pump since I started using it three years ago. What a sense of empowerment to start altering so many Pump Settings — which have frankly intimidated the heck out of me until [...]

Source: AmyT

March 29th, 2010 by

All day Wednesday, I had the pleasure of collecting my urine in a "hat" for 24 hours and then sending it off to my doctors for protein analysis.  Since I was ordered to remain on modified bed rest until further notice, Chris ran the collection up to the hospital for analysis at noon.



Where they lost it.  Twice.  And the test wasn’t actually performed on the sample until almost 10 pm that night.  



Which lead to the mad scramble on Friday morning after my OB called, saying that the protein content of my 24 collection was too high for comfort, and they wanted to admit me to the hospital until the baby was born.



I’m not the most calm, relaxed person.  (WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU PICKED UP ON THAT?)  I get nervous about things, I have a hard time adjusting to change, and I have a lot of trouble letting people make the full decisions regarding my health care.  So being told I needed to pack a bag for a time frame ranging from 1 – 3 weeks, and that upon my return home, I’d have my daughter with me ON THE OUTSIDE, I melted down just a little, teeny bit.



But it’s not about me, or what I need.  This is about my kiddo, and keeping her safe and sound.  So the bags were packed (where I put in jeans and "real shirts" but then realized I’ll be on bed rest, so replaced those items quickly with sweatpants, sports bras, and t-shirts) and Chris and I headed off to the hospital.



"See you in a little bit, Siah.  But when I come home, you won’t be the queen bee anymore.  Ms. BSparl will outrank you by an awful lot."



Siah looked at me, slightly crossed-eyed, and then ran off to chase a speck of dust that scampered by.



When we arrived, the doctors checked my blood pressure (was a little elevated – 140/84, but no one was freaking out) and labs were drawn to assess the levels of creatinine in my blood.  The medical team checked on BSparl, too, with a full ultrasound and non-stress test to assess if and how the pre-eclampsia was affecting her.  Thankfully, she’s having her own personal dance party in there and seems to be just fine, despite all of my symptoms.

So we’re in for the long haul now, which just got a bit shorter.  I’m currently 34 weeks, 4 days along in this pregnancy, and the hospital goal is to make it to the 36 week mark.  If anything becomes unstable between now and then, BSparl will arrive on an earlier flight.    But I’m being watched carefully, and so is she, so nothing will be sneaking up on us while we’re under the careful eye of the team here. 

My blood pressure is being checked every few hours, my liquid intake/urine output is being tracked to keep tabs on my kidney function, and we have ultrasounds and blood work scheduled every two days.  I’m on heparin shots three times a day, thanks to this bed rest/Factor V heterozygous combination (more on that later).  And the nurses are keeping my blood sugar logbooks for me, which means this is the most thorough logbooking I’ve ever done in my entire life.  (Also, my numbers haven’t been over 120 mg/dl in three days, which means I’ve scared my diabetes into complete compliance.  Testing every hour probably helps a bit, too.  Panicking slightly doesn’t appear to hurt, either.)

I’ll be a little scarce at times online, thanks to the swelling in my hands that keeps me from being able to work comfortably, and due to the barrage of docs and nurses that are checking in throughout the day and night.  (I have upwards of 10 doctor or nurse visits throughout the course of the day – makes for a very BSparl-focused 24 hours.) 

Chris and I are so thankful for the support and well wishes we’ve received from you guys – it makes a world of difference, and I know BSparl is benefiting from these good vibes.  (And I am too – thank you!!)

Source: Six Until Me.