And Susan Says I Never Take Her Anywhere

Last Tuesday night, I was sitting in bed working from home. We were discussing what to do about Friday, as our usual sitter for the day may not have been able to watch the boy the full day while I was at work. Then it struck me: Saturday was July 4th, meaning Friday was July 3, ipso facto, I would be able to watch the boy. Then Susan took a closer look at the website reporting my holiday and vacation time.

"Why does it say you only have 51 hours of vacation? You never take time off!"

"That's not 51 hours of vacation. That's 51 hours of use it or lose it."

"So how much vacation do you really have?"

"171 hours."

Well, things went downhill from there. Eventually, we agreed that Susan and I deserved some alone time together. The very next day, I whisked her off to an impressive (and expensive!) top secret location in Seattle. It was the start of a 6 day, 5 night R&R time for the two of us. Susan is waited on hand and foot, and every once in a while a learned individual comes in and performs an exotic act on her.

We've been able to spend a lot of Swedish time together. Not Sweden, but Swedish.

Not this:

But this:

That's right, not nearly enough of this:


And way, way too much of this:

On Wednesday, we had another ultrasound appointment with our team of specialists. I waited in the waiting area with Rooney, while Susan got probed. When she was done, the doctor, Susan, Rooney, and I had a little chat. According to the ultrasound, Susan's cervix now measured at 7mm, and he was recommending that we go to Swedish Medical Center right away and prepare for a cerclage on Thursday. We dropped off Rooney with Vala and headed downtown. There, Susan was probed again and got another ultrasound. In preparation for surgery, Susan was not allowed to eat that night (fortunately she polished off her box of milkduds before the cut-off), and Susan and I spent our first night apart since we've been married.

On Thursday, I left Rooney with Kelly, and drove in to Swedish. I went up to Susan's room. It was so great to see her; some tears may have been shed. Of course, at precisely that moment the nurse decided to walk in. She saw Susan with a red and teary face, and looked very alarmed. "I'm her husband, and those are happy tears." Fortunately, Susan confirmed my story.

Later a doctor came in, and told us the good news: Susan could go ahead and eat, as there would be no surgery that day. Susan has presented to be an interesting case for our jolly team of experts (or is it "merry band of misfits"?): the results they have been seeing on the ultrasound have not been consistent with her prior history and what the doctors have observed when performing a physical exam. This doctor had a new theory: Susan's cervix was actually at an angle, and the ultrasound was showing her cervix as short as a result. I was very excited to hear this, as I got to flash some math knowledge (pretty sure it involves an arccos, but maybe arcsin; I'm a little out of practice). The doctor's course of treatment: Susan would stay in the hospital through Monday, and then would be subject to a digital exam.

We were very impressed with "digital exam", as we thought this would involve some type of "laser", but it turns out that all he really meant was "finger". Slightly deflating, and probably more than slightly uncomfortable.

So, Susan and I have been staying in the hospital together this 4th of July weekend on what I like to call "extreme bedrest", while Rooney has been off living it up at his Aunt Annie's, his parents a mere afterthought. We saw a couple of fireworks in West Seattle from our window, and caught some of New York's, Lake Union's and Bellevue's shows on the telly (guess which one was the most impressive). Tomorrow, we find out our fate: to cerclage or not to cerclage. Everyone around here seems to think "not", and we continue to hope for the best.

Update 10:10 am, 7/5/2009: We were dragged out of bed at 7:00 for an ultrasound (I may have had sticking up hair), but it was worth it: Susan is going to be discharged; the doctors still want her on bedrest.