I'm throwing in the towel. You win.

As some of you may have heard by now, the past few days have been anything but good. Thursday, the 8th, I had to sprint after Victoria as she was running into the street. Being 36 weeks pregnant, I have a lot of weight up front and resting on my pelvis. The weight won the battle, and separated my public joint. Here is what I was diagnosed with finally:

http://www.e-radiography.net/radpath/d/diastasis_symphysis.htm

Lets start from the beginning though. I called my doctor up on Thursday, and I was told I had just pulled a muscle and I was fine, but they could give me a prescription and to take it easy. Well, with that diagnosis, I took it easy, but only to an extent. I don't do vulnerable and helpless well, so, I continued along with my day while spending just a little more time on the couch. This only made things worse, so when I woke up Friday morning, I was miserable. But, I just couldn't ask for help. I did email people and let them know what was going on, but I down played the situation to the point where everyone was only mildly concerned. It took John emailing the commander here telling them what was really going on for people to take a second look.

So, after the email, I was taken to the ER where I was sent up to labor and delivery and hung out for about 5 hours. Over the course of that time I sent myself into labor because I was so stressed out, I accused people of not listening (which they weren't, and still don't seem to be), and basically was poked and prodded until I was sent away with a doctor's note stating he does not believe I can be left alone to care for myself or Tori.
We all thought, although the situation sucked since I really was in a lot of pain, it was good news. We began to work on getting John home because of the medical emergency and the need for a family member to stay with me for the duration of my pregnancy and at least a few weeks postpartum.

Before leaving, I was given a pain medication prescription. I had let the nurse know what pain killers work, and which don't. The drugs I know for sure that do absolutely nothing for me unless I am taking a very large dose are Demerol and Vicadin. The drugs that follow the same route as them, obviously aren't going to work either, but since I haven't studied any thing, I have no idea what those drugs include, or what other names they go by. Well, they prescribe me Lortab. I get home, take 1, and wait. Nothing. Well, maybe the first dose isn't really going to help, but the next one will... 4 hours later, nothing. I am still in pain. Especially after the doctor at the hospital pulled my hips apart, pushed them together, moved my legs, etc. Finally, when I woke up in the middle of the night in pain, I decided to look into exactly what I was taking. Turns out 7.5 mg of Hydrocodone and 500 mg of APAP is Vicadin. The drug I specifically said would not work. So, now, I'm screwed until Monday when I can call into my doctor's office and request a new prescription that will work.

Saturday rolls around, everyone is helping (except my doctor, who has acted like I am putting her out this entire time) notify the Red Cross and get the request to get John home submitted. By noon I have spoken with a woman who works at the local branch, and she has assured me we have everything we need and it is a viable reason to get John home. At this point, I am so thrilled and ecstatic I can hardly contain myself. I began making phone calls letting my family members know that John will be here by the end of the week and celebrating the best I could. This put everyone at ease since we have all been concerned John would not be home for the birth of our child, and he will be back in the states, safe, and out of harms way.

A few hours later, I received a phone call from the Red Cross number I had been talking with earlier. I assumed it was a confirmation call that the request had gone through and to be on stand by for flight information. I was wrong. I went from chipper to upset while the woman on the other line spoke. I don't even remember the conversation. I remember writing down a case number and getting a phone number to call. But I don't know what they are for, or if she said there was any thing I could do to change the situation. All I remember her saying is the request had been denied because it did not meet the required criteria. I still am not sure what that means, but I think it's because I am still considered healthy, and so is the rest of the family.

I hung up the phone and immediately pictured John waking up, packing his bags and casually strolling into his office expecting to find our how much time he had before his flight left, only to be notified that it wasn't going to happen. The past month or two have been extremely rough for him out there, and I knew this was going to make matters worse.

At this point, I want to be sedated for the next week, woken up, and told exactly what is going on. I have put too much into this emotionally to have to take one more disappointment. Monday morning I think I will not only be requesting pain medication, but I will also be requesting some sort of numbing drug. I'm sure I'd need to be seen to get it, but, if it gets me something that can make the emotional pain of having one let down after another, the pressure I have inside my chest, and the stress and anxiety I am trying so hard to avoid, disappear, I think my health and safety would be saved. At this point, I feel helpless, and on the verge of doing something stupid. Luckily I have 24 hour care I guess...