Yesterday we went for the 3 hour glucose screening since I failed the one hour test. Can I tell you it was pure torture? It was at 9 in the morning which meant leaving our house at 8 in the morning because rush hour on the world's most poorly designed highway - and the only sensible way into the city - turns a drive that should take 20 minutes into an hour long affair. I don't sleep anymore so waking up wasn't an issue but the last thing you want to do when you haven't slept is get out of bed. Frank had his dart league the night before and only got about 5 hours of sleep. We were not a happy pair to encounter.
At the doctor's it was the same deal: take my blood, drink a sugar drink. This one was even worse because it had DOUBLE the amount of glucose in it than the one hour. And it wasn't even orange, it was some fake me out lemon lime grossness but I drank it thankfully because I hadn't even had water since the night before. Because you know, water is somehow going to impact my glucose levels and throw the entire test out of whack. I'm smart. And rational. Anyway, drink the drink and then we saw the doctor who said I have a 50 percent chance of actually having gestational diabetes. What the hell kind of odds are those? I was expecting something way more lopsided (in my favor) and definitive than "you may have it or you may not".
Other than that the doctor didn't have much to say. My weight is pretty stable - a surprise to me since all I do is sit home and eat anymore - and the belly is measuring exactly what it should for 33 weeks. He said that when he does the Group B Strep test he'll also break out the speculum to take a look at the "alleged polyp". He's still not entirely convinced that's what it is, which is why I'm still under house arrest, just in case it's something more serious. Awesome. I love a pelvic exam with the speculum in late pregnancy. It's great to cry in the doctor's office from pain!
Then we went back out the waiting room to sit and well, wait. I was flying from the glucose drink and feeling a little sick to my stomach. That is some seriously gnarly stuff to give a girl who hasn't eaten since the day before. I was all shaky and wobbly and a little tweaked out. I brought a book to read but spent a lot of the first hour leaning on Frank's shoulder and trying to keep the room from spinning. Then back for another blood draw. We sat for two more hours of waiting and blood draws. Also, it was 479 degrees in that waiting room, which only got worse as it filled with people. By the last hour I felt like my face was going to melt off.
Finally it was all over and we got to go home. When I tell you the wooziness was bordering on loss of consciousness I am not lying. Of course I had to field a work related call on the way home. It was not my best moment and I'm sure there was some babbling incoherence happening. The first thing I did when we got home was make a fat sandwich with chicken cutlets my mom made for me. Then I made straight for the couch where I spent the rest of the day in various stages of semi-consciousness, except when I had to answer the phone for work. Then I put my fake, "what, I'm totally awake" voice on and tried to keep my crap together.
The girl who ran the test said that the results would be in today and that they would call only if they had something to tell me. I tried really hard all day to just wait it out and not be the neurotic spaz who calls even when they said they'd call me. I made till about 4 at which point I couldn't take it anymore. Guess what folks? My test was abnormal! My numbers were way higher than the guidelines. Now according to the internet, my source for all things true and not alarmist in any way, failing the 3 hour test is an automatic diagnosis of gestational diabetes. This is according to the Mayo clinic and WebMD, not you know, Yahoo answers or anything.
My doctor however, wants to do some other type of test where I eat a small meal first, then come in and have my blood effing drawn again. He plans to talk to me about it at my next appointment, IN TWO WEEKS. That's right. Two weeks of growing a giant baby who might have jaundice and hypoglicemia at birth before another damn test. At this rate, I'm going to deliver the boy before they get around to diagnosing the damn problem. Also, two weeks with nothing to do but think about it.
Frank says I jinxed myself into all of these problems by obessesively watching endless hours of When Childbirth Attacks. I say none of this funny, dammit and what happened to that pregnancy I was having for the first 6 1/2 months where nothing was happening at all? Can I have that back please?