The past ten days or so have been a whirlwind.
First of all, let me just take this opportunity to say that Baby Momma is a true trooper. We’ve had a blessedly trouble-free pregnancy so far, but that has come to somewhat of an end in the past few weeks. I say “somewhat” because this could be ever so much worse. Now, in the 32nd week, my wife is contending with polyhydramnios which is making her life very difficult. She is carrying excess amniotic fluid and Baby Girl Vazquez is presenting frank breech, so she is experiencing a high degree of discomfort. Fortunately, BGV seems to be flourishing and showing no ill effects, except for the stubborn refusal to orient herself properly. It seems that the Galician “cabeza dura” gene has been duly passed on.
Over on my side of things, I’ve been like an old car going in for a 100,000-mile overhaul. I’ve seen three separate specialists in the past week. An Orthopedic Surgeon for my CTS (who turned out to be a wee bit of an ass-clown), my Endocrinologist, and a Cardiologist. The Cardio has put me through a whole battery of tests to see if I have heart disease. I’m trying to cover my bases before returning to an exercise program that I had to discontinue on account of recurring tightness in my chest and general exhaustion. Now would not be a good time to drop dead while trying to get healthy. This past Friday afternoon, as far as we can tell, both Baby Momma and I were enjoying nearly simultaneous sonograms. I can confirm that my beating heart is much less photogenic—should that be“sono-genic?”—than BGV, (as well she should be).
It’s been seven years since my last full Cardio work-up. At this point, I’m preparing myself for being diagnosed with some level of heart disease. My family history is not replete with cardiac issues and, if I do indeed have heart disease, I will only have myself to blame. Goodness knows, at times it has seemed as if I were actively campaigning for it, if my habits were anything to go by. What would you think of a 40+, smoking, drinking, type-2 diabetic carrying way too much weight?
The holiday weekend was a good opportunity to catch up on chores. On Monday afternoon, my wife and I headed out in search of a crib mattress, which we were able to find in short order. Before we sat down for lunch at our local Panera, my wife informed me that she’d discovered a little bleeding while in the restroom. Off we went to the emergency room—actually, labor and delivery triage—at St. Joseph’s Women’s Hospital, where my wife is slated to give birth. As you have no doubt figured out, it was a false alarm.
I want to sincerely thank the nursing and medical staff on duty. We were very well taken care of, and they knew just how to deal with this keyed-up Dad-to-be when he bypassed their entry procedures and stubbornly refused to wait and register at the security desk while his wife was bleeding. (Although—sorry, ladies and gentlemen—he would do it again under the same circumstances.)
