Last night I took my daughter to Spur (her favourite place) to distract her from the drama. Whilst she was playing in the play area, I was sitting chatting to my Favourite Person.
I just don't understand the point of it all!
Why? What? What is the point of being alive? Living? If it is one uphill battle, with moments of beauty. The uphill battle sure seems to outweigh the moments of beauty.
After many morning cuddles with my little one, I headed off to the welfare offices to find out about changing visitational rights with her dad. I was on the phone with estate agents about finding a bigger house for us. Amidst what feels like my whole world crumbling, I am able to get up, look after my child and pull reserve energy and will (I don't know where from - I thought I was depleted) to ensure her safety. I realized that my purpose, what its all about, is my daughter. Looking after her. Ensuring her well-being. That is what it is "all about". Not me. But her.
I guess I can equate that a little bit to the heartache of losing a child (even through a miscarriage) - if your intrinsic purpose is to look after your children, losing one feels like the ultimate "life failure". Even if it was unavoidable - I think the primal instinct is there. The feeling that you failed at your primary purpose in life. Looking after and protecting your child.
Friday, 20 February 2015
Thursday, 19 February 2015
Boy, but it is pouring
It doesn't rain - but it pours.
I was back at work today again, teaching art. Feeling not too terrible (yay).
After my extra art class I went past my ex's house to visit my daughter before heading on home (daddy day today). I arrived at 16:30 and he was drunk out of his bracket. I had my neighbour's son with me (a good friend of Sophia's) and this lovely little boy said, "Hello!" to the ex. Being in the state that he was, the ex did not hear sweet little boy greet him.
"Say hello, C." I said.
"Why the &#*&@ should I say hello to a little laaitie who doesn't greet me first? I'm not greeting any little sh*t who comes to my house and doesn't greet me!" It was too terrible. C was rambling away and swearing like a trooper whilst my little girl was sitting playing on the lawn, and her friend was sitting nervously on a chair outside. C began to go off at me so I grabbed my neighbours boy and made a hasty retreat. When I got home I sat down on my bench outside, very quietly. I sat there feeling that I literally can not take anymore. I was scheduled to give an art class this evening, but after the incident at the exes, of course my heart decided to let me down and started beating furiously and erratically. I had to cancel my class (I haven't worked in almost two weeks - I need to work!). I don't know why I had to sit on my bench in almost stunned silence for so long before realizing I absolutely could not leave my daughter with her father. I new I had to fetch her, but I was so afraid of him causing a scene and upsetting her.
I sent him a forewarning message to say that I was fetching Sophia, and that he should not make a scene. Of course, the abusive sms's started right there. When I got there I tried to keep the situation calm as to not upset my darling daughter, but C, not being in his right mind was chirping comments continually.
I needed to keep my composure, and I needed him to calm down, so I went outside to the car for a few minutes. As I was sitting there, one of his housemates arrived.
"C is completely out of it. He's on another planet!" He waved at me exasperatedly (this being 16:30 in the afternoon). C had not taken Sophia to school today (again) so I presume he had been hanging around the house all day drinking. When I arrived there and saw he was so drunk, I asked him, "How can you be so drunk like this with Sophia here??"
"It's my off day. I can do what I want!" He retorted.
"Um.. OK. But you know she needs to go to school."
"We had to sort out her toys and clothes."
"Don't you think you should do that on a Sunday, when she comes to you? You know, it is important for her to go to school and stick to a routine and have structure."
"Today suited me. It's my day (off) so I can keep her with me if I want to. And I can do what I want. And drink as much as I want."
"Um, well, C... It is not really "your" day. It is actually "Sophia's" day. All days are her days."
After being in the car for a few minutes, I heard Sophia start to sob so made a beeline towards the house again. C was busy playing me off against him, telling her that I was taking her away from him. That I say he is a bad daddy. Etc. etc. I assured my little girl mommy would never take her away from daddy, and that "of course daddy is not a bad daddy!" I went to fetch Sophia's school bag from C's room to make a hasty exit before the situation became even worse. C came charging into the room behind me. He grabbed me and gave me an open hander on the face whilst shouting expletives at me (he says he was "giving me a pat on the cheek"). Thank god Sophia was outside at this stage and did not have to witness this. He grabbed me painfully again near the front door. I managed to free myself from his grip, and I slapped him (yes, I did) and ran outside. He was shouting after me the whole time. Sophia was crying at the car and I got her in as quickly as I could to shelter her little ears from this nightmare. And people wonder why I wanted to have a child by myself. Without a "partner".
God, I hate alcohol. It destroyed my marriage. My family. My husband was a slave to the booze. Still is. It took me many years to realize that not even his love for his child and I. His family. Was enough to stop him from drinking. It saddens me tremendously. Deeply. As he is really such a nice guy - far from perfect - but overall a "nice guy" and to this day, I adore him. Give him drink and he becomes terrifying. There were nights when we were married where I thought he was going to kill me. As in cold bloodily murder me. I was so afraid of him that I even once told my best friend, that if something ever "happened" to me - it was him. Our marriage was very strained for a long time - the longer we stayed together and the worse our relationship became, the more he resented me. The more angry he became. And jealous. He would fly into fits of rage and accuse me of all sorts of things. How he thought I could be cheating on him makes no sense as I was home with our daughter every night whilst he was out "working" (boozing).
I will never forget one night in particular - shortly before I made the final decision to leave him. I was lying in bed (never quite able to sleep until he got home at some ungodly hour) trying to sleep. I heard the front door open and some clamoring on the kitchen counter, then silence. I thought he must have passed out on the couch. Relief. I was lying breathless, trying to be sure that he was indeed asleep, when I heard a silent shuffle at the bedroom door. I opened my eyes and I saw him silhouetted, swaying at the door. My blood ran cold at the site of him there, swaying with the stench of cigarettes and alcohol permeating from his pores. I was absolutely petrified - I could actually see him lunging at me and killing me, that very night. Almost like I could read his alcohol infused thoughts. Should I? Shouldn't I? I could hardly breath. He used to become so erratic. He would switch from "oh I adore you" to "you slut hore" within seconds on a booze fueled binge. I will never forget how relieved I felt when he stumbled around and headed back to the lounge.
There are certain moments. Images. In your life which you never forget. That was one of them.
I was back at work today again, teaching art. Feeling not too terrible (yay).
After my extra art class I went past my ex's house to visit my daughter before heading on home (daddy day today). I arrived at 16:30 and he was drunk out of his bracket. I had my neighbour's son with me (a good friend of Sophia's) and this lovely little boy said, "Hello!" to the ex. Being in the state that he was, the ex did not hear sweet little boy greet him.
"Say hello, C." I said.
"Why the &#*&@ should I say hello to a little laaitie who doesn't greet me first? I'm not greeting any little sh*t who comes to my house and doesn't greet me!" It was too terrible. C was rambling away and swearing like a trooper whilst my little girl was sitting playing on the lawn, and her friend was sitting nervously on a chair outside. C began to go off at me so I grabbed my neighbours boy and made a hasty retreat. When I got home I sat down on my bench outside, very quietly. I sat there feeling that I literally can not take anymore. I was scheduled to give an art class this evening, but after the incident at the exes, of course my heart decided to let me down and started beating furiously and erratically. I had to cancel my class (I haven't worked in almost two weeks - I need to work!). I don't know why I had to sit on my bench in almost stunned silence for so long before realizing I absolutely could not leave my daughter with her father. I new I had to fetch her, but I was so afraid of him causing a scene and upsetting her.
I sent him a forewarning message to say that I was fetching Sophia, and that he should not make a scene. Of course, the abusive sms's started right there. When I got there I tried to keep the situation calm as to not upset my darling daughter, but C, not being in his right mind was chirping comments continually.
I needed to keep my composure, and I needed him to calm down, so I went outside to the car for a few minutes. As I was sitting there, one of his housemates arrived.
"C is completely out of it. He's on another planet!" He waved at me exasperatedly (this being 16:30 in the afternoon). C had not taken Sophia to school today (again) so I presume he had been hanging around the house all day drinking. When I arrived there and saw he was so drunk, I asked him, "How can you be so drunk like this with Sophia here??"
"It's my off day. I can do what I want!" He retorted.
"Um.. OK. But you know she needs to go to school."
"We had to sort out her toys and clothes."
"Don't you think you should do that on a Sunday, when she comes to you? You know, it is important for her to go to school and stick to a routine and have structure."
"Today suited me. It's my day (off) so I can keep her with me if I want to. And I can do what I want. And drink as much as I want."
"Um, well, C... It is not really "your" day. It is actually "Sophia's" day. All days are her days."
After being in the car for a few minutes, I heard Sophia start to sob so made a beeline towards the house again. C was busy playing me off against him, telling her that I was taking her away from him. That I say he is a bad daddy. Etc. etc. I assured my little girl mommy would never take her away from daddy, and that "of course daddy is not a bad daddy!" I went to fetch Sophia's school bag from C's room to make a hasty exit before the situation became even worse. C came charging into the room behind me. He grabbed me and gave me an open hander on the face whilst shouting expletives at me (he says he was "giving me a pat on the cheek"). Thank god Sophia was outside at this stage and did not have to witness this. He grabbed me painfully again near the front door. I managed to free myself from his grip, and I slapped him (yes, I did) and ran outside. He was shouting after me the whole time. Sophia was crying at the car and I got her in as quickly as I could to shelter her little ears from this nightmare. And people wonder why I wanted to have a child by myself. Without a "partner".
God, I hate alcohol. It destroyed my marriage. My family. My husband was a slave to the booze. Still is. It took me many years to realize that not even his love for his child and I. His family. Was enough to stop him from drinking. It saddens me tremendously. Deeply. As he is really such a nice guy - far from perfect - but overall a "nice guy" and to this day, I adore him. Give him drink and he becomes terrifying. There were nights when we were married where I thought he was going to kill me. As in cold bloodily murder me. I was so afraid of him that I even once told my best friend, that if something ever "happened" to me - it was him. Our marriage was very strained for a long time - the longer we stayed together and the worse our relationship became, the more he resented me. The more angry he became. And jealous. He would fly into fits of rage and accuse me of all sorts of things. How he thought I could be cheating on him makes no sense as I was home with our daughter every night whilst he was out "working" (boozing).
I will never forget one night in particular - shortly before I made the final decision to leave him. I was lying in bed (never quite able to sleep until he got home at some ungodly hour) trying to sleep. I heard the front door open and some clamoring on the kitchen counter, then silence. I thought he must have passed out on the couch. Relief. I was lying breathless, trying to be sure that he was indeed asleep, when I heard a silent shuffle at the bedroom door. I opened my eyes and I saw him silhouetted, swaying at the door. My blood ran cold at the site of him there, swaying with the stench of cigarettes and alcohol permeating from his pores. I was absolutely petrified - I could actually see him lunging at me and killing me, that very night. Almost like I could read his alcohol infused thoughts. Should I? Shouldn't I? I could hardly breath. He used to become so erratic. He would switch from "oh I adore you" to "you slut hore" within seconds on a booze fueled binge. I will never forget how relieved I felt when he stumbled around and headed back to the lounge.
There are certain moments. Images. In your life which you never forget. That was one of them.
Wednesday, 18 February 2015
Please don't ask me how I am...
Yesterday my dad had a house-warming with some friends and family. I forced myself to go so that they could see my daughter. Clearly I was not feeling too hot - not really engaging and I guess it was obvious I was looking pretty miserable.
I'm asking you (no one, really, as I am blogging to myself in Cyber World) but please don't ask me "how are you doing?" when you can see I'm doing f*cking shite. What do you want me to answer to that? In the middle of a room full of your guests? Do you want me to go off on a tirade about how I am feeling?? Don't do it. Just don't do it. What the f*ck do you expect me to say?
At moments I can be feeling fine - and then you pipe up with a concerned look on your face, "How are you doing?" I was doing fine until you reminded me of how f*cked off I am with life.
I'm feeling angry.
I don't want to tell people "how I'm doing". You'll know when I'm doing great - you'll see it. Until then, don't ask me every couple of hours how I'm doing. I want to move forward and stop being reminded about this all.
I started work today again. I gave two art classes. It was lovely to see all my kids again. I love them.
I've been having palpitations this afternoon. It pisses me off. I want my stillness back again. I'm feeling bed-ridden and ANGRY. Very very angry.
I should have expected something like this. F*cking life. As soon as I get happy. Like really really f*cking happy - everything goes pear-shaped.
That is exactly what happened last time. My whole life (well, from about 12 years old) I wanted to die. I was depressed, a cutter and suicidal. A couple of months after my daughter was born (about five years ago) and how I felt about two weeks ago - I was happy. To the core. And content. For the first time in so many years I did not want to die. And wham. Boom. Sitting at work one day I started feeling funny. I ended up being rushed to hospital in CT where I spent a week in ICU. Frightening stuff. Doctors told my husband they "didn't know if I would make it". I was so sick that I couldn't carry my daughter. I couldn't walk five steps. I couldn't climb a flight of stairs. Finally I was happy. Not wanting to die. And I was "dying". Thanks life.
It was a long f*cking battle. Years later they diagnosed me with ARVC / ARVD. There were so many days that my heart would be beating so crazily that I would lie there praying "Please don't let me die. Please don't let me die. Let me just get through this." I would will away the seconds, minutes, hours of heart craziness - waiting for my heart to calm down and bring me some peace.
People take it for granted - the peace that comes from a silent heart. - In all respects.
It took me many years to own a peaceful heart. I have felt "blessed" through all the hardships that I have endured, as to come through them all with a peaceful heart invokes a feeling of great accomplishment and personal growth. Some of those hardships, to this day, I do not understand and have not come to terms with. Those pertaining to my child. Children. But everything that I have had to endure. My body. I wouldn't change them, as they have made me who I am today. And I love myself. Many people don't love me. I have reached the point in my life (which is so wonderful as I had such a low, shattered self-esteem) where I honestly don't care what people think of me - because I know I am true to myself. And a good person. Only human, however.
I have scars on my body. Self-afflicted marks like rabid train tracks running down my arms for all to see. These haven't bothered me in years - what can I do about it?
However, last week, I wanted to have the skin stripped from my arms and covered with fresh, unmarred skin. I was thinking about why now, would I be feeling so conscious of my scars.
I haven't quite put my finger on it - any suggestions?
Maybe I want any reminder of my pained past gone. Maybe I don't want people to see that I have been through pain. Maybe I want to be recognized as someone with a "normal" life. Maybe it is all too much and I want a clean slate. I don't know. I hope that soon I will understand this.
I'm asking you (no one, really, as I am blogging to myself in Cyber World) but please don't ask me "how are you doing?" when you can see I'm doing f*cking shite. What do you want me to answer to that? In the middle of a room full of your guests? Do you want me to go off on a tirade about how I am feeling?? Don't do it. Just don't do it. What the f*ck do you expect me to say?
At moments I can be feeling fine - and then you pipe up with a concerned look on your face, "How are you doing?" I was doing fine until you reminded me of how f*cked off I am with life.
I'm feeling angry.
I don't want to tell people "how I'm doing". You'll know when I'm doing great - you'll see it. Until then, don't ask me every couple of hours how I'm doing. I want to move forward and stop being reminded about this all.
I started work today again. I gave two art classes. It was lovely to see all my kids again. I love them.
I've been having palpitations this afternoon. It pisses me off. I want my stillness back again. I'm feeling bed-ridden and ANGRY. Very very angry.
I should have expected something like this. F*cking life. As soon as I get happy. Like really really f*cking happy - everything goes pear-shaped.
That is exactly what happened last time. My whole life (well, from about 12 years old) I wanted to die. I was depressed, a cutter and suicidal. A couple of months after my daughter was born (about five years ago) and how I felt about two weeks ago - I was happy. To the core. And content. For the first time in so many years I did not want to die. And wham. Boom. Sitting at work one day I started feeling funny. I ended up being rushed to hospital in CT where I spent a week in ICU. Frightening stuff. Doctors told my husband they "didn't know if I would make it". I was so sick that I couldn't carry my daughter. I couldn't walk five steps. I couldn't climb a flight of stairs. Finally I was happy. Not wanting to die. And I was "dying". Thanks life.
It was a long f*cking battle. Years later they diagnosed me with ARVC / ARVD. There were so many days that my heart would be beating so crazily that I would lie there praying "Please don't let me die. Please don't let me die. Let me just get through this." I would will away the seconds, minutes, hours of heart craziness - waiting for my heart to calm down and bring me some peace.
People take it for granted - the peace that comes from a silent heart. - In all respects.
It took me many years to own a peaceful heart. I have felt "blessed" through all the hardships that I have endured, as to come through them all with a peaceful heart invokes a feeling of great accomplishment and personal growth. Some of those hardships, to this day, I do not understand and have not come to terms with. Those pertaining to my child. Children. But everything that I have had to endure. My body. I wouldn't change them, as they have made me who I am today. And I love myself. Many people don't love me. I have reached the point in my life (which is so wonderful as I had such a low, shattered self-esteem) where I honestly don't care what people think of me - because I know I am true to myself. And a good person. Only human, however.
I have scars on my body. Self-afflicted marks like rabid train tracks running down my arms for all to see. These haven't bothered me in years - what can I do about it?
However, last week, I wanted to have the skin stripped from my arms and covered with fresh, unmarred skin. I was thinking about why now, would I be feeling so conscious of my scars.
I haven't quite put my finger on it - any suggestions?
Maybe I want any reminder of my pained past gone. Maybe I don't want people to see that I have been through pain. Maybe I want to be recognized as someone with a "normal" life. Maybe it is all too much and I want a clean slate. I don't know. I hope that soon I will understand this.
Tuesday, 17 February 2015
I'm so not OK
I thought this was getting easier - that I was starting to deal with this and move forward. I thought that just because I am not crying anymore, that things are looking up. I think I am disillusioned.
I'm nervous of getting depressed again. I don't want to talk to anyone. I'm almost on autopilot. And staying awake is a feat in itself. I feel like a terrible mommy. I managed to take Sophia to the beach this evening. But I didn't manage to play with her. I kind of sat there in a crumpled heap, my mind miles away. It was the most perfect evening - I live in paradise. The ocean was like a lake. Sun setting. Sea birds and a yacht. Perfect. Perfection. Breathtaking. Maybe I have no breaths left to take. The profound beauty and perfection managed to pull me deeper into my sadness. Just over a week ago I was the happiest I've been in my life. On the same beach. In solitude I marveled at the perfection. I breathed it in. It enveloped me. And now it flows through my broken heart like lava. Burning and seething. Looking for any extra crevices to char which might have been left untouched from this sadness.
The sadness seems bigger now. Broader.
I feel that the loss of my child is but a part of it. The other part which is stalking me like a feline hunting in the dark, is this heart disease. My broken heart. I found a forum of mothers who have all had miscarriages whilst taking Atenolol. ARVC. ARVD. Whatever this is that is wrong with me. It has taken up such a large part of my life already. I am not ready to acknowledge that it might have taken away my ability to have another child. That is too big for my mind to fathom. But it is there. Lurking in the shadows and flickering up like hungry flames. Licking at my thoughts tauntingly. Waiting to make the kill.
Will I be able to mother another biological child?
I'm not ready to acknowledge that perhaps I can't. I don't want that taken away from me. I've had enough taken away from me.
I'm nervous of getting depressed again. I don't want to talk to anyone. I'm almost on autopilot. And staying awake is a feat in itself. I feel like a terrible mommy. I managed to take Sophia to the beach this evening. But I didn't manage to play with her. I kind of sat there in a crumpled heap, my mind miles away. It was the most perfect evening - I live in paradise. The ocean was like a lake. Sun setting. Sea birds and a yacht. Perfect. Perfection. Breathtaking. Maybe I have no breaths left to take. The profound beauty and perfection managed to pull me deeper into my sadness. Just over a week ago I was the happiest I've been in my life. On the same beach. In solitude I marveled at the perfection. I breathed it in. It enveloped me. And now it flows through my broken heart like lava. Burning and seething. Looking for any extra crevices to char which might have been left untouched from this sadness.
The sadness seems bigger now. Broader.
I feel that the loss of my child is but a part of it. The other part which is stalking me like a feline hunting in the dark, is this heart disease. My broken heart. I found a forum of mothers who have all had miscarriages whilst taking Atenolol. ARVC. ARVD. Whatever this is that is wrong with me. It has taken up such a large part of my life already. I am not ready to acknowledge that it might have taken away my ability to have another child. That is too big for my mind to fathom. But it is there. Lurking in the shadows and flickering up like hungry flames. Licking at my thoughts tauntingly. Waiting to make the kill.
Will I be able to mother another biological child?
I'm not ready to acknowledge that perhaps I can't. I don't want that taken away from me. I've had enough taken away from me.
Monday, 16 February 2015
ARVC / ARVD Miscarriage - Misoprostal
This has not been fun.
I took the four Misoprostal tablets yesterday. I was nervous taking the Mifeprestone because I had read that it "should be taken with caution" with patients suffering from a cardiomyopathy. I had mild arrhythmia but nothing too severe - so when it was time to take the Misoprostal I wasn't too nervous. As soon as the pills had dissolved in my mouth my mouth became itchy. A short while later I started feeling very "strange". Dizzy. Cramps and nausea (I think this is pretty normal). And soon I started feeling shaky, very faint ("weird") and my fingers became tingly. I took my pulse with was 40 beats per minute. I know that my beta-blockers (Atenolol) can give me bradychardia (I'm used to about 44 bpm) - but 40 is really on the low side. I drove in to town where my ex took my heart rate twice - both times it was 33 beats per minute. No wonder I was feeling so terrible! My pulse was very weak and irregular.
Ex took me off to emergency room.
They took my vitals, which all appeared normal. My heart rate was 66 beats per minute.
The sister did an ECG, first of which was 120 beats per minute. There was a lead loose so she chucked that one away and did another. Second one also showed about 66 beats per minute. There were irregularities in my heart beat, but the doctor said that it looked the same as my ECG from five years ago (which would have been when I was feeling as sh*tty for me to have gone into ER) so seeing as it was the same as before, I'm "fine". The crap thing about having ARVC / ARVD is that they don't always catch your arrhythmia's on the ECG. My heart was doing flick flacks in my chest. I told the doctor that I was really not feeling well, so she took my pulse manually, and said "yes, should could feel irregularities, but that is is "normal" for someone with a cardiomyopathy. It is not f*cking normal for me to be sitting in arrhythmia for 5 hours straight (up until that stage - carried on much longer). You think I am imagining that the Misoprostal is making me sick??
I doubt it. I know my body. And I know how to take my pulse.
I heard the doctors conferring and they decided that it was the "trauma of the miscarriage" which was making me feel "funny". Come on. I hadn't freaked out with the previous pills. I'd also not experienced any bleeding from either of the lots of pills. The "trauma" had been over the last week whilst the baby was coming out naturally.
I went home that evening and stayed with the ex. I was freezing. Was wrapped up in two blankets, long top, dressing gown and was shaking and had goosebumps. Coincidental? This is not in my head!
Today, I am feeling a whole lot better. I am so thankful. What a nightmare. It is so damn scary. Like I said before - sometimes you really want to die.. but dying*.. is no fun at all.
*Yes, I am being melodramatic here. Feeling like you are going to die.
Causal relationship unknown
I am going to add in from this section what I experienced in case there is anyone else in a similar situation to me.
Body as a whole: aches/pains, asthenia, fatigue, fever, chills, rigors, weight changes.
Skin: rash, dermatitis, alopecia, pallor, breast pain.
Special senses: abnormal taste, abnormal vision, conjunctivitis, deafness, tinnitus, earache.
Respiratory: upper respiratory tract infection, bronchitis, bronchospasm, dyspnea, pneumonia, epistaxis.
Cardiovascular: chest pain, edema, diaphoresis, hypotension, hypertension, arrhythmia, phlebitis, increased cardiac enzymes, syncope (near), myocardial infarction (some fatal), thromboembolic events (e.g., pulmonary embolism, arterial thrombosis, and CVA).
Gastrointestinal: GI bleeding, GI inflammation/infection, rectal disorder, abnormal hepatobiliary function, gingivitis, reflux, dysphagia, amylase increase.
Hypersensitivity: anaphylactic reaction
Metabolic: glycosuria, gout, increased nitrogen, increased alkaline phosphatase.
Genitourinary: polyuria, dysuria, hematuria, urinary tract infection.
Nervous system/Psychiatric: anxiety, change in appetite, depression, drowsiness, dizziness, thirst, impotence, loss of libido, sweating increase, neuropathy, neurosis, confusion.
Musculoskeletal: arthralgia, myalgia, muscle cramps, stiffness, back pain.
Blood/Coagulation: anemia, abnormal differential, thrombocytopenia, purpura, ESR increased.
More common
I can only say, use this drug with caution!
You probably didn’t see anything about in your newspaper or on any of the news networks, but another woman, this time in Italy, has died after taking RU 486, a two-drug regimen–mifepristone which kills the baby, coupled with a prostaglandin, which induces labor.
According to Italian news sources, earlier this month, an unnamed 37 year old woman died from a cardiac arrest at a Turin hospital shortly after taking the prostaglandin.
Doctors, described as “shocked,” said that “everything was regulated” about the abortion and the woman’s visit to the hospital. The Italian news summary that ran in The Local (4/22/14) claimed that she did not suffer from any known illness. The woman first took the RU486 (mifepristone), which shuts down the baby’s life support system, at the Hospital. She then returned two days later to take the prostaglandin, which stimulates powerful uterine contractions to expel the child.
However, according to The Local, four hours after taking the prostaglandin, the woman complained that she was not able to breathe. An electrocardiogram detected an atrial fibrillation, an irregular and rapid heart rate that usually brings with it poor blood flow to the body.
Within mere moments, the woman was dead. She left behind a four year old son.
A few years ago, after a sudden rash of deaths, there was media coverage, government investigations, warning letters sent to doctors and cautions added to the abortion pill label. Yet for all that, no one ever fully explained the connection of the drugs to the women’s deaths.
The media and the investigators moved on. But the women have kept dying.
About half a dozen deaths were known when the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) held a joint conference in 2006. Most of these were due to infections women contracted in the process of their abortions. But there were other deaths due to ruptured undiscovered ectopic pregnancy and hemorrhage.
When the FDA issued a report in April 2011, the number of known deaths had risen to 19.
With this latest death from Italy, add at least one more to the total.
It is interesting to note that Nadine Walkowiak, the first RU486 patient known to lose her life, also died of a heart attack shortly after receiving an injection of sulprostone, a prostaglandin in 1991. Not surprisingly, use of that particular prostaglandin has been largely discontinued, in favor of milder prostaglandins such as misoprostol.
None of the available news stories on this latest death specify which prostaglandin was used, but misoprostol is now commonly used in both the U.S. and Europe. While cardiac events are rare, the FDA label for Cytotec (misoprostol’s brand name in the U.S.) does say, “Caution should be employed when administering Cytotec (misoprostol) to patients with preexisting cardiovascular disease.”
An article from the Journal of Obstetric Anaesthesia and Critical Care, written by a team from New Delhi led by Bikash Ranjan Ray, dealt with a patient in their hospital who while undergoing a caesarean suddenly went into respiratory distress upon the vaginal administration of misoprostol, an unauthorized, but common way the prostaglandin is administered in chemical abortions in the U.S. [1] Doctors conjectured that misoprostol acted on prostaglandin receptors in the lung’s circulatory system, contracting the blood vessels, increasing pressure, and thus inhibiting the ability of the body to oxygenate the blood.
Doctors suspected that administration of misoprostol triggered an underlying but previously unknown peripartum cardiomyopathy (PPCM), a weakened heart muscle that sometimes shows up in the last few months of pregnancy. Dr. Ray and the team were able to treat and save that woman’s life, but they wrote that “Misoprostol, although safe, may cause pulmonary edema when administered to a patient having compromised cardiac function, hence should be used cautiously.”
More details may become available following the Italian woman’s autopsy. But tragically, it has been made clear, once again, that there continue to be lethal risks associated with these abortifacients, risks that are not always made plain to the general public.
What is clear from this latest tragedy, though, is that these drugs that are used to take the lives of innocent unborn children continue to bring death to many of their mothers as well.
[1] (“Misoprostol induced pulmonary edema in a parturient with postpartum cardiomyopathy,” July-Dec 2011)
------------------
I took the four Misoprostal tablets yesterday. I was nervous taking the Mifeprestone because I had read that it "should be taken with caution" with patients suffering from a cardiomyopathy. I had mild arrhythmia but nothing too severe - so when it was time to take the Misoprostal I wasn't too nervous. As soon as the pills had dissolved in my mouth my mouth became itchy. A short while later I started feeling very "strange". Dizzy. Cramps and nausea (I think this is pretty normal). And soon I started feeling shaky, very faint ("weird") and my fingers became tingly. I took my pulse with was 40 beats per minute. I know that my beta-blockers (Atenolol) can give me bradychardia (I'm used to about 44 bpm) - but 40 is really on the low side. I drove in to town where my ex took my heart rate twice - both times it was 33 beats per minute. No wonder I was feeling so terrible! My pulse was very weak and irregular.
Ex took me off to emergency room.
They took my vitals, which all appeared normal. My heart rate was 66 beats per minute.
The sister did an ECG, first of which was 120 beats per minute. There was a lead loose so she chucked that one away and did another. Second one also showed about 66 beats per minute. There were irregularities in my heart beat, but the doctor said that it looked the same as my ECG from five years ago (which would have been when I was feeling as sh*tty for me to have gone into ER) so seeing as it was the same as before, I'm "fine". The crap thing about having ARVC / ARVD is that they don't always catch your arrhythmia's on the ECG. My heart was doing flick flacks in my chest. I told the doctor that I was really not feeling well, so she took my pulse manually, and said "yes, should could feel irregularities, but that is is "normal" for someone with a cardiomyopathy. It is not f*cking normal for me to be sitting in arrhythmia for 5 hours straight (up until that stage - carried on much longer). You think I am imagining that the Misoprostal is making me sick??
I doubt it. I know my body. And I know how to take my pulse.
I heard the doctors conferring and they decided that it was the "trauma of the miscarriage" which was making me feel "funny". Come on. I hadn't freaked out with the previous pills. I'd also not experienced any bleeding from either of the lots of pills. The "trauma" had been over the last week whilst the baby was coming out naturally.
I went home that evening and stayed with the ex. I was freezing. Was wrapped up in two blankets, long top, dressing gown and was shaking and had goosebumps. Coincidental? This is not in my head!
Today, I am feeling a whole lot better. I am so thankful. What a nightmare. It is so damn scary. Like I said before - sometimes you really want to die.. but dying*.. is no fun at all.
*Yes, I am being melodramatic here. Feeling like you are going to die.
MISOPROSTAL:
Precautions
Caution should be employed when administering Misoprostol to patients with pre-existing cardiovascular disease.
Causal relationship unknown
I am going to add in from this section what I experienced in case there is anyone else in a similar situation to me.
The following adverse events were infrequently
reported. Causal relationships between Misoprostol Tablets and these
events have not been established but cannot be excluded:
Skin: rash, dermatitis, alopecia, pallor, breast pain.
Special senses: abnormal taste, abnormal vision, conjunctivitis, deafness, tinnitus, earache.
Respiratory: upper respiratory tract infection, bronchitis, bronchospasm, dyspnea, pneumonia, epistaxis.
Cardiovascular: chest pain, edema, diaphoresis, hypotension, hypertension, arrhythmia, phlebitis, increased cardiac enzymes, syncope (near), myocardial infarction (some fatal), thromboembolic events (e.g., pulmonary embolism, arterial thrombosis, and CVA).
Gastrointestinal: GI bleeding, GI inflammation/infection, rectal disorder, abnormal hepatobiliary function, gingivitis, reflux, dysphagia, amylase increase.
Hypersensitivity: anaphylactic reaction
Metabolic: glycosuria, gout, increased nitrogen, increased alkaline phosphatase.
Genitourinary: polyuria, dysuria, hematuria, urinary tract infection.
Nervous system/Psychiatric: anxiety, change in appetite, depression, drowsiness, dizziness, thirst, impotence, loss of libido, sweating increase, neuropathy, neurosis, confusion.
Musculoskeletal: arthralgia, myalgia, muscle cramps, stiffness, back pain.
Blood/Coagulation: anemia, abnormal differential, thrombocytopenia, purpura, ESR increased.
From other resources:
More common
- Abdominal or stomach pain (mild)
- diarrhea
- Bleeding from vagina
- constipation
- cramps in lower abdomen or stomach area
- gas
- headache
- heartburn, indigestion, or acid stomach
- nausea and/or vomiting
- Abdominal pain
- convulsions (seizures)
- diarrhea
- drowsiness
- fast or pounding heartbeat
- fever
- low blood pressure
- slow heartbeat
- tremor
- troubled breathing
I can only say, use this drug with caution!
A quick Google search on "Misoprostal & Cardiomyopathy" brought up the following:
Italian Woman Dies of Heart Attack after Taking Abortion Drugs
By Randall K. O’Bannon, PhD. NRL Director of Education and ResearchYou probably didn’t see anything about in your newspaper or on any of the news networks, but another woman, this time in Italy, has died after taking RU 486, a two-drug regimen–mifepristone which kills the baby, coupled with a prostaglandin, which induces labor.
According to Italian news sources, earlier this month, an unnamed 37 year old woman died from a cardiac arrest at a Turin hospital shortly after taking the prostaglandin.
Doctors, described as “shocked,” said that “everything was regulated” about the abortion and the woman’s visit to the hospital. The Italian news summary that ran in The Local (4/22/14) claimed that she did not suffer from any known illness. The woman first took the RU486 (mifepristone), which shuts down the baby’s life support system, at the Hospital. She then returned two days later to take the prostaglandin, which stimulates powerful uterine contractions to expel the child.
However, according to The Local, four hours after taking the prostaglandin, the woman complained that she was not able to breathe. An electrocardiogram detected an atrial fibrillation, an irregular and rapid heart rate that usually brings with it poor blood flow to the body.
Within mere moments, the woman was dead. She left behind a four year old son.
A few years ago, after a sudden rash of deaths, there was media coverage, government investigations, warning letters sent to doctors and cautions added to the abortion pill label. Yet for all that, no one ever fully explained the connection of the drugs to the women’s deaths.
The media and the investigators moved on. But the women have kept dying.
About half a dozen deaths were known when the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) held a joint conference in 2006. Most of these were due to infections women contracted in the process of their abortions. But there were other deaths due to ruptured undiscovered ectopic pregnancy and hemorrhage.
When the FDA issued a report in April 2011, the number of known deaths had risen to 19.
With this latest death from Italy, add at least one more to the total.
It is interesting to note that Nadine Walkowiak, the first RU486 patient known to lose her life, also died of a heart attack shortly after receiving an injection of sulprostone, a prostaglandin in 1991. Not surprisingly, use of that particular prostaglandin has been largely discontinued, in favor of milder prostaglandins such as misoprostol.
None of the available news stories on this latest death specify which prostaglandin was used, but misoprostol is now commonly used in both the U.S. and Europe. While cardiac events are rare, the FDA label for Cytotec (misoprostol’s brand name in the U.S.) does say, “Caution should be employed when administering Cytotec (misoprostol) to patients with preexisting cardiovascular disease.”
An article from the Journal of Obstetric Anaesthesia and Critical Care, written by a team from New Delhi led by Bikash Ranjan Ray, dealt with a patient in their hospital who while undergoing a caesarean suddenly went into respiratory distress upon the vaginal administration of misoprostol, an unauthorized, but common way the prostaglandin is administered in chemical abortions in the U.S. [1] Doctors conjectured that misoprostol acted on prostaglandin receptors in the lung’s circulatory system, contracting the blood vessels, increasing pressure, and thus inhibiting the ability of the body to oxygenate the blood.
Doctors suspected that administration of misoprostol triggered an underlying but previously unknown peripartum cardiomyopathy (PPCM), a weakened heart muscle that sometimes shows up in the last few months of pregnancy. Dr. Ray and the team were able to treat and save that woman’s life, but they wrote that “Misoprostol, although safe, may cause pulmonary edema when administered to a patient having compromised cardiac function, hence should be used cautiously.”
More details may become available following the Italian woman’s autopsy. But tragically, it has been made clear, once again, that there continue to be lethal risks associated with these abortifacients, risks that are not always made plain to the general public.
What is clear from this latest tragedy, though, is that these drugs that are used to take the lives of innocent unborn children continue to bring death to many of their mothers as well.
[1] (“Misoprostol induced pulmonary edema in a parturient with postpartum cardiomyopathy,” July-Dec 2011)
------------------
OK, so they have changed up from prostaglandin, but after my experience with Misoprostal, I would use any of these drugs with caution.
Sunday, 15 February 2015
Day 6 - February 16
It is still really hard to get out of bed. And not sleep. Yesterday I spent most of the day curled up on the couch sleeping. And today I find myself forcing myself awake at 10am. Daughter had her "daddy day".
I'm just so tired. All the time.
I'm just so tired. All the time.
Friday, 13 February 2015
February 14th.
Today is day four since the start of this. Despite it also being the anniversary of my grandmother's passing, it has been the first day that I have not woken up crying. My grandmother was a mother to me. I would love to speak to her.
When I told my own mother that I was miscarrying, her response was, "I'm thrilled!"
For whatever reason - being embarrassed, worried about my health, not believing that I could afford another child - whatever reason - reading those words I despised her. I was sitting, doubled over in pain whilst losing my baby to read that she was "thrilled" about it. We have had a tenuous relationship through the years. I don't know how I will get over this one.
I'm thrilled.
How. Can you say those words about the death of a life. The death of your own grand child. The death of your grand daughter's sibling. Your daughter's child. Could you not have chosen any other two words from the English language? Maybe added a few words onto those ones? Even if my baby was indeed a "sesame seed" - how could you be so heartless. What confuses me tremendously is that my mother is such a "sensitive" person. She will be devastated for friends who have gone through a miscarriage (what is the difference here - because it was planned? Because they were married? Because they new they were expecting for longer?). Does that really make a difference to the pain one would be feeling due to losing a part of you? Losing all those dreams for your future? It was still a part of me. It was still my child.
It had a beating heart.
When I told my own mother that I was miscarrying, her response was, "I'm thrilled!"
For whatever reason - being embarrassed, worried about my health, not believing that I could afford another child - whatever reason - reading those words I despised her. I was sitting, doubled over in pain whilst losing my baby to read that she was "thrilled" about it. We have had a tenuous relationship through the years. I don't know how I will get over this one.
I'm thrilled.
How. Can you say those words about the death of a life. The death of your own grand child. The death of your grand daughter's sibling. Your daughter's child. Could you not have chosen any other two words from the English language? Maybe added a few words onto those ones? Even if my baby was indeed a "sesame seed" - how could you be so heartless. What confuses me tremendously is that my mother is such a "sensitive" person. She will be devastated for friends who have gone through a miscarriage (what is the difference here - because it was planned? Because they were married? Because they new they were expecting for longer?). Does that really make a difference to the pain one would be feeling due to losing a part of you? Losing all those dreams for your future? It was still a part of me. It was still my child.
It had a beating heart.
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