Thursday, March 21, 2013

The Turning Point Part 1


I planned to drive to my brother’s home in Pittsburg in the morning with my mother. I was six months pregnant and feeling a little feverish but I was still unwilling to disappoint my mother even though I knew that she would understand.

My mother picked me up at six am on December 19, 2007 and we set off to take the four to five hour drive. The sun was not out yet and it was cold, my mother had the car radio on her Christian station and was just praying nonstop to the point where I was a bit irritated. I was popping a low dose of Tylenol as my fever was just not letting go. I slept to the sounds of gospel and praying until we arrived in Allegheny County,Pittsburgh.

There is a feeling I get whenever I enter Pittsburgh now but then it was the feeling of love and hate because I lived in Pittsburgh for a year with my brother and his wife while I was attending school. Pittsburgh is not as fast paced as the DMV and if I had to pick a color that best describes it for me I would choose grey for the vibe I feel and yellow and black because you cannot talk about Pittsburg with thinking of the Steelers. One would not believe that after looking at brochures  trying to incite people to migrate to . I believe that it’s due to the old infrastructure and deserted manufacturing plants. The majority of the residents in Pittsburgh are students, senior citizens, people whose families have been there for generations and foreigners who settled after attaining some sort of higher education from one of the many prestigious university the state has to offer.

My brother and his wife were really excited to see us. We talked, watched television and ate. I eat a lot while pregnant and after eating the next must on my agenda is sleeping so I left my family downstairs and headed for bed. I started to get the sensation of wanting to use the restroom as I was making my way my mom ran up and stood in front of the bathroom door, startled, I asked her if she was okay and why she was blocking me. She looked at me and let me know that she had an intuition that I should not use the restroom.  She stood in front of the bathroom and said you are going to have to hold it or go to the hospital and have your B.M. there. I was laughing at how adamant she was about the fact that I could not use the restroom in my own brother’s house. I walked away went back into the room and  lay down by my mother. My mother was a half inch behind me every step of the way. I started to feel an uncomfortable pain and the worst it got the higher my mother shouted at my brother to get and ambulance.

My mother stutters , thus my brothers and me have the same speech impediment and my oldest brothers stuttering is really bad, any stutterer that is in a high anxiety situation has added difficulty in relaying a message through speech. He could hardly get the sentence our so his wife had to ask for assistance from the 811 dispatcher.I was placed in the back of the ambulance and transported to Magee Women’s Hospital. Upon arrival I vomited and the test indicated at six months pregnant I was already four centimeters dialated .

To Be Continued...

1 comment:

  1. Isn't it funny, I have a love-hate relationship with Pittsburgh, too (my father is from there). I found this post really interesting. Your writing is engaging and your details are vivid. However, I felt that some of your details didn't seem to flow with the content. We actually never get to the discussion of the short-bowel, yet. So I wonder: maybe change the title? Because what you have here is a mystery ailment, one that we readers shouldn't know about until part 2. Then introduce the "short bowel" issue, especially when you get in with the physicians and we get more details as to the condition.

    Also, has your mother had intuition like that before? That is an amazing connection.

    Maybe you can frame this discussion from the aspect of family health/well being. I also wonder if going back to Pittsburgh created anxiety for you, which manifested in the syndrome symptoms?

    ReplyDelete