Always growing

well, that is a weekend I’m happy to see the end of.

If you don’t follow me on facebook, a quick update: Steve was doing bridge inspections on the West Coast Trail a couple of weeks ago and suffered a blister and possibly acute achilles tendonitis.  He hobbled around for a bit, and life went on.  Two weeks later he was back on the trail on two separate trips finishing up the inspections, and again his boots caused him a great deal of grief, and the heel/blister situation worsened.

After a few days of moaning and carrying-on, all the while the apparent blister and heel getting worse, I began to lose my patience and Steve finally took himself to the clinic (although, honestly, not because I was being a bitch about it, but because his co-workers looked at his foot and said “dude, go see a doctor”).  The clinic doctor on that particular trip poked and prodded and diagnosed acute achilles tendonitis and basically said it would get better on its own.   By this point Steve could barely walk and inquired about crutches.  The doctor said that wasn’t necessary – which would be true if it were tendonitis.   He hobbled into work the next day, and by the end of the day one of the guys at the office went to the pharmacy and got him some crutches because CLEARLY he needed them. 

He didn’t get out of bed the following day (much to my dismay), or the next day.  A nasty, NASTY looking blister started to form, and his foot was swelling rather grossly.  He decided to drain the blister (against my advice - in fact, I refused to have anything to do with that decision and made my opinion known that he needed to see our family doctor ASAP – he ignored me).   Of course then the thing oozed for two days, Steve completely lost his appetite, and basically just slept.  By Friday night he finally agreed to go back to the clinic.

Serious infection going on, and this clinic doctor wanted to send us to the ER for an antibiotic drip and to have the ankle drained but she took pity on me, being 39 weeks pregnant and all, and instead started Steve on oral antibiotics through the night with strict instructions that if he developed a fever or started to feel sick we had to head to the ER.  We went back to the clinic first thing in the morning to have her re-assess, and sadly, she immediately sent us to the ER.  So that  is where we spent Saturday morning.

The end result is that he is now an out-patient and is required to go back to the hospital every morning to receive antibiotics through an IV.  That is how we spent Sunday morning. The good news is that after two treatments it looks like things are on the mend and we’re hoping he only has two more treatments to go and he’ll be walking again (he still isn’t able to put weight on his foot).   He’s even taking himself to the out-patient care tomorrow, meaning one less trip to Nanaimo for me.  Yay!

What we’re really hoping is that Anna doesn’t make her appearance before Steve is fully recovered because while that wouldn’t be the end of the world, it would suck.  A LOT.  I sort of like my birth support person to be able to, you know, support me.  It would have been ideal to have my support person not suffer some serious medical emergency in the final weeks of my pregnancy but alas, that has never been in the stars for us.  

It would have been nice to have one pregnancy that was all about me, you know?  Just one. 

And let this be a lesson to you all – husbands should listen to their wives, even if they do think said wife is just bitchy and mean.

The other thing this little experience has taught me is just when you think you’ve got everything under control and things are moving along swimmingly, the universe always brings you down a notch.  I was having a really hard time letting go of all the things I had planned to get done this weeknend.  At every turn, all my well-laid plans were being crapped on.  And it was annoying the beejesus out of me.  I like to have control!

When Steve was checking into the ER I was answering all the questions like the man was a baby, and he was just letting me act like this crazy, control-freak wife.  Later that day I was thinking how ridiculous that was, making a mental note to apologize.  Thankfully that evening Steve made a joke about it but said that there was no way he was going to say anything because when your wife is 39 weeks pregnant, people tend to be on her side, even if your entire foot is swelled up like a balloon with an infection.  I couldn’t control my weekend going off the rails, but GOD-DAMMIT I KNOW THE MAN’S BIRTHDAY AND I WILL ANSWER THE QUESTION.

~ahem~

So, here’s hoping I can get everything in place for Anna’s birth and arrival and still keep my sanity.  And hopefully not drive my family up the wall. 

And a shout-out to my mother who is a total superstar.  I can’t even imagine the hell this weekend would have been without her.  You should buy a house with her, she rocks.