"I dont wanna do this anymore!"
Yes Scrublings - its yer ol pal Scrub here once again.
We last left our heroine quite preggers, experiencing some discomfort and strolling the halls of the hospital with her dear Scrubbie in hand.
Well.... the aforementioned walk through the halls did diddly-squat in terms of bring the Wife any relief.
We did make a little stop at the telephone though. The Wife called up our dear friend Hurricane and immediately burst into tears saying "I dont wanna do this anymore!" Ummmm... bit late for that.
So - after a good boo-hoo... the Wife and me returned to our room. Things seemed to be calming down a wee bit.
We had planned to hang out and get in a game or two of Cribbage. So, we had brought all the goods to play - dug 'em out of the bag and plunked ourselves down to count to 15 a whole buncha times.
We managed to get the cards dealt. The Wife laid down her first card. "Four..... OHHHHHHH!" Contraction. Tears. "I can't do this!" More tears.
"Time for drugs?" I ask.
"YES" she says.
NURSE!
Well - will spare ya the details of the epidural. Will just skip to the end: "Ahhhhhhh". No more tears.
The Wife is nice and comfy now. Ummm... a little too comfy.
"Oh...." says Florence Nightengale, our Nurse. "I think we might have given you a little too much".
Apparently so. The Wife - cant feel nothin from her belly button on down.
The Wife - thrilled to bits with this development.
Anyway - hours and hours have gone by. Women have arrived. Shot out a kid. Cleaned up. On their way home. We are... still there.
Things seems to be moving a little slowly.
"Ya know, Mrs. Scrubbie..." one of the nurses says... "maybe we can help things move along."
"Really? How?" asks the Wife.
"We're gonna tie you up." says Florence.
"But that's how I ended up like this!" says the Wife.
Scrub - not in the room when all this went down. Scrub - returned to the room to find: 4 nurses, many bedsheets turned and twisted up, one preggo belly being supported up in the direction of boobies with said bedsheets, 5 women giggling. If this were an issue of Playboy magazine I would have started this posting by saying: "This never usually happens to me... but...."
Ya - it was pretty funny.
So - little more time goes by. Well.. a lot of time really.
Time's a ticking. Wait! What's this?! Somethin about a doc sayin that the Wife is all ready to get goin with the pushin.
"Ok, Mrs. Scrubbie..." says the nurse... "we're gonna ease up on your epidural now."
"Huh?" says the wife. "Why?" asks the wife. There is a distinct tone of... ummmm... panic in her voice.
"Well..." says the nurse... "we need you to be able to feel everything 'down there' when you're pushing."
"Now wait just a cotton-pickin' minute here. Nobody said anything about having to feel anything!" says the wife.
Despite a vigorous protest - the epidural was in fact eased back and sure enough - the wife was a' feelin it.
"Ok Mrs. Scrubbie... time to push. Ready? 1. 2. 3. PUSH"
Again - I'll spare the details.
Nothin. No kid. No nothin. Despite the pushin'. Nothin.
In our fetus-fetchin' room - there was this big 'ol light that the docs and nurses could roll around. They crank this mega watt thing on to get a good peek at the U-hoo and everything that's goin on 'down there'. Know what I mean?
The wife... being a Scrapper... says "oooooo - that's one helluva craft light! I want it!" (I know... seriously, eh?)
So - the light is on. It's practically daylight on one particular wifey area. There's the nurse and Scrubbie yellin "Come to the light! Come into the light!"
But - still.... nothin. No kid. No nothin.
Well - this went on for a while. A good while. The wife - after already bein at this whole givin' birth thing for the better part of 24 hour straight... was exhausted. The docs - had these machines that go 'ping' all over the place and told us that the Kid - appeared to be hangin on for dear life. Nice and warm in there. No reason to leave. (things haven't changed. STILL a stubborn little fart). And, according to the machines that go 'ping'... all this huffin and puffin wasn't good for either the little fella or his soon to be mommy. So - decision was made to yank him out with a C-section. Mommy - pretty much too exhausted to even care at this point.
So - epidural cranked up again. Nicely cranked up. Wife - bit of relief. Scrub - still awake. Time: a little before midnight on October 22nd.
Now - we wait.
The story continues....
***Addendum. Hey kids - Scrub here again. It's been a few minutes since I hit the publish button. The wife - just did a review of Scrubs writing and wishes for me to point out somethin. I mentioned that it's been almost 24 hours of this givin' birth thing. Well - minor correction. See - it was Monday morning at 8am when the whole process started and contractions began. So, in fact, now that it's almost midnight on Tuesday - we are WAY past 24 hours. WAY WAY past 24 hours. And, the Wife - at this time of a little before midnight on Tuesday October 22nd - is thinkin to herself: "Gosh Darnit... almost 48 hours of labour and NOW they wanna do a C-section? Why the hell couldnt we have decided this 47 hours ago?"
Now that I have made this correction - the Wife is going to put away the kitchen knife that has been positioned strategically in Scrub's direction.
Phew.
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