Pregnancy Orgasms!!!! A Continuation of the Previous Post...

And Also!!

Another thing I did not know!!!

How hot is KD Lang!!!

I mean, had I not an aversion to the Vaj
I would be all ovah that hotness!!!

And: She's the dude-lady version of John Cusack, no?
And who doesn't love a good dose of the Cuke?
(More on that story later...)

She would write a soothing and long-noted ballad about

My First Miscarriage, Part II:

After entering the hospital and suffering hours
on my back with things torn on and off, needles
stuck in and pulled out...I finally saw the on-site
OB-Gyn who withheld none of his scorn over my
full-blown foreignhood and stick-shifted his way
through the underworld of my reproductive
system with vigor and, almost, glee.

Fury is a dish served up when your legs are
jacked in the air, you're exhausted, and you can
do nothing more than swear in English at some
F*ck who gives more of a shit about a pile of
molding hedgehog feces, then about your health.

He reported that there was still "stuff" in
my uterus and ordered me to a hospital bed with
a bunch of pills to heighten my contractions.

"Don't you think it would expediate the matter
to have a DNC?"
"No.  You'll be fine.  And you can always come back"

yes, because my f*cking idea of fun is multiple racing-car
visits with you stretched over days of uncontrolled bleeding.

So I cramped my way into whatever state they
deemed fit, made as much friends with the nurses
as I could, ate croissants when permitted...

and exited the hospital 24 hrs later.

(Of course I was back a month later with aforementioned
uncontrolled bleeding and more "stuff" to evacuate.
....But when do doctors ever listen to a sister??)

However, more importantly, we make our way
home to our little ruin and who should be outside
crouched by the garden wall but The Cat.

The same Cat who was cuddling up to me, trying to
lick my face, trying to heal me with full throttle
purrs.  I reached down to thank her and
she         screeched.     Shit.

This.  Was more than I could handle.  Not only
had we lost the baby, but it was in a particularly
Dickensian manner involving loads of vomit,
blood, dirt, malevolent doctors and heaps of pain.

Now my first baby may have a broken back?
The day that I get back from the hospital?

Did I mention that it was Sunday?
And you know, of course what happens on
sunday in France? Shit F*ck All.
Which is great when you have absolutely
no emergency of any kind going on in your life.

We manage to wedge her shivering body
onto a plank and My Man tells me the story of how
his sister's cat fell 4 stories and was prescribed
a long stay in a shoe box to heal her internal and
external wounds and breaks...and look at her now!

We put her in a box.

The next day we take her to the vet, although I don't
remember how we managed that.  But the X-Rays
were so sexy, I almost forgot about the whole thing.

No bones broken (X ray still on fridge)...apparently
The Cat had been pierced in some way by the neighbor's
chickens (for whom she cleans away mice) and the
wounds, unseen to us, became infected and burst.

So.  The vet cleans them up.  Sends her home.

Two days later, one wound that HE missed explodes.

What happens then is the most horrifying happening
on an animalistic level that I have ever witnessed,
and that includes any Discovery channel shit.

Our Cat.
To Eat Herself.

Imagine your beloved feline friend reaching back
around to her lower spine and RIPPING pieces
of skin off herself while shrieking.

You are trying to chase her around the kitchen to catch
her and she is running away from you .  While shrieking.

The vet is closed.
Put the fucking cone collar on the cat!!
The neighbor's small dog collar!!!
Yes That One!!!!!!!!

Now!!!!  take the cat and place
her in a large rolling shopping cart that you ganked
from a too-rich-and-tacky shopping mall inorder
to have a rolling tool box.

Cat in Collar in Cart.
Water and Food in Cart.
Plywood top wired shut over Cart top.
= Cat in Jail and Unable to Scream her way
through the house with no doors and Out into
the Countryside, Never to be Seen Again.

A Lovely Ending Flourish to a Miscarriage.

BUT!  One could not end a story without
a leap from a two story window...which is what
The Cat, after 2 months of confinement in
the kitchen, performed while wearing her collar,
found crouched in the bushes, wondering
what the hell she had done in a former life
to deserve this bountious hell.

We started healing together...

...taking many naps...

and before the river could flood, we were back at work...

Let Us Hope That Things Go Smoother This Time.


Boomka said...

I really don't know how you women do it with the lady doctor who is sometimes a man. I also don't want to know how you do it. All I know is that I will continue to open doors and pull out chairs and let you go first in line because you have to see that doctor and I do not. And for that, I am grateful.

French Shelter said...

Thank you for the appropriate male sympathy Sir Boomka!

I do have to say, though, it is no picnic being fingerly sodomized by your friendly neighborhood doc...it seems!