percentage of the world’s population with red hair— 1-2%
percentage of the world’s population that is left handed— 8-15%
percentage of women experiencing postpartum hypertension— approx. 10%
see? i always knew i was special.
or a freak, some may say. but i know better. i’m spaay-shul.
last week we were over the in-laws, happily showing off five to visiting family.
i was starting to feel okay—my myriad issues seemed to be resolving. sure, i had had a headache for a few days…sure, my vision was a little blurry… but seriously—i’m working on just a few hours sleep with a newborn. normal, right?
and then googiedaddy decided to take his blood pressure. (yeah, that’s what you do for giggles when you’re hanging at the in-laws house) the bp cuff made the rounds of the room, everyone comparing.
then it got to me.
“oh, my blood pressure is always soooo low,” i chortled confidently. “if my diastolic is over 70 that’s high for me!”
huh. take 2—ditto. takes 3, 4 and 5—all about the same.
maybe it’s a fluke?
so tuesday night we checked it again.
weeeirrrd. so i did what anyone else would do—turned to the internet.
dr. google was not my friend that night: filling my head with words like hypertension and postpartum pre-eclampsia and seizure and…death.
i called my midwife’s office first thing wednesday morning, and when i told the receptionist my numbers her response was immediate: “can you come in today?”
my midwife listened to my story, and checked my blood pressure. yup, it was high. i had earned myself labwork and meds and bedrest and even a big orange jug to save all my pee-pee in for 24 hours! yay!
told you i was special.
so here i am…on bedrest. (i barely escaped readmission to the hospital. guess i’m not that special)
my labs came back okay on friday, and they took some more blood to check again. i have an appointment with a blood pressure specialist on thursday.
until then, i float between bed and couch…watching yet more tv, playing more boggle on my phone, and reading more useless things on the internet.
when i lay down my pressure drops as low as 110/60. when i sit up, it shoots up. if i stand? ugh. we won’t go there. it’s not pretty.
so, as usual, my life has a theme song.
It's the terror of knowing
What the world is about
Watching some good friends
Screaming 'Let me out'
and for that brain worm…you’re welcome. :)