Adding Insult To Injury

As if last week's food poisoning incident wasn't bad enough, I managed to come down with mastitis YET AGAIN. I mean really. I wanted to nurse Louie. I tried to nurse Louie. I spent a lot of time, energy, money, and heart ache trying to nurse Louie. And not only could I not nurse Louie, but I have had to deal with the nightmare that is mastitis, TWICE in less than 3 months???

I didn't even think a person could get mastitis after weaning, but apparently it is relatively common within the first 3 months after you stop nursing. Saturday I was a little sore and then by Saturday night I knew exactly what the problem was. I went to urgent care first thing Sunday morning and I got an antibiotic injection and a prescription for a 10 day course. By Sunday night things were much worse and I couldn't even walk without excruciating pain (every time I moved the left side of my body it h.u.r.t).

First thing Monday morning I made an appointment with my OB (she was on call so I had to see someone else in the practice), dropped off Norah, and headed in. I felt really crummy and was actually feeling worse by the minute, but was surprised to find that I had a temperature of 104. The doctor was very concerned that not only had I not responded to the antibiotics at all, but the problem seemed to be getting much worse. My poor left breast was swollen to about twice its normal size (the horror), and was as hard as a rock. Oh, and really, really red. She had to press on it to see if she could feel a clogged duct. Now, I have had several broken toes, appendicitis, 48 hours worth of labor, and 2 c-sections and NOTHING has even remotely hurt as much as this doctor trying to feel for a clogged duct in my boob of doom. I cried and cried and cried and it took everything I had not to punch her in the face. (To her credit, she was very apologetic and I think she felt like a giant a-hole for having to do it).

She suspected that it had actually moved past mastitis and was an abscess that would have to be surgically drained. Crap. She immediately sent me to have an ultrasound and then scheduled me a consultation with one of the breast surgeons. Crap, crap. I had the ultrasound, which hurt like hell, but thankfully they did not find an abscess. The surgeon was quite concerned with how it looked and drew around the red area with a permanent purple marker. She started to go into what would happen if it didn't improve in the next 24 hours, which I will not repeat. She sent me home with orders to return the next day (today) and prescriptions for a much stronger, higher dose antibiotic, and two different pain medications (including my best friend, Vicodin).

I went through the drive-through pharmacy pick up, which I discovered a while back and was told they were running behind and it would be 20 minutes more. So I waited 20 minutes and then went inside, waited in line, and gave my name at the counter. And was told they were running behind and it would be at least 45 minutes. And then I promptly burst into tears. The clerk asked me if I wanted a tissue and I said, 'no, I want my prescription. It hurts really, really, really bad.' I felt like an idiot, but by this point I really couldn't help it. I think they were appropriately horrified (or maybe just compassionate), but my prescriptions were ready in the next 5 minutes.

I felt better within about an hour of the first dose of the new antibiotic and have continued to improve. It helped that I went to bed at 8:00 pm yesterday, which I haven't done in about 25 years. At my appointment today the breast surgeon said 'we aren't out of the woods yet, but things are moving in the right direction' and is making me come back on Thursday and then again next week. When all is said and done (even with our excellent health insurance), I will have spent $190 on co-pays for office visits and prescriptions.

Norah is doing her best to take care of me and asks me every 5 minutes if my boob still hurts. Louis continues to brighten my day with his big, gummy smile. BVZ has taken on the lion share of child rearing these past few days and has decided that I am the perfect person to educate young people about the perils of pregnancy, childbirth, and postpartum issues. He thinks if a 16 year old had any idea any of this was possible she would invest in a lifetime supply of condoms. Ha. He's probably right.

But the upside is that you get a baby who looks like a little old man. And really, is there anything better than that?