How Is She Doing? Confessions of an Hyperemesis Gravidarum Husband

It's a Vein, Not a Goldmine.

How is Carrie doing?  The same.  As in not well.  She is now getting IV's.  Which on the one hand means she is at least getting fluid on the other hand it means she is getting poked.  A lot.  4 times for one IV.  And they dig.  Carrie cries.  I hate seeing her in that much pain. 

20 Minutes

She eats very little and when she does eat, she throws up.  Sometimes she throws up even when she doesn't eat.  Our goal is 20 minutes.  If we can just keep something in her tummy for 20 minutes then at least she will get SOME nutrients. 

What Can She Eat?

Popsicles, yogurt, apples, mashed potatoes, soup, and bread are among the things she has thrown up.  She can eat pretty much anything.  She just throws it up after eating it.  I am supposed to meat with a nutritionist next week.  Maybe that will help.  I'll try anything.

Is she taking medicine?

Within the last day we have effectively tripled her anti-nausea medication.  Maybe it will help.  At the very least the extra dosages of Phenergan will make her sleepy enough she might not notice how nauseous she is.

Every morning I give her a bag of IV's along with various medications I shoot into her arm.  It takes about 15 minutes.  I then wait two to four hours for the IV bag to finish draining into her body.  Then I unhook the IV and shoot some more medicine into her arm.  Then I repeat the process at night before going to work.  Now we will add a third medicine time without the IV bag. 

Is She Able to Get Up and Around?

Today the pharmacist and the nurse warned me not to let Carrie drive.  I laughed to myself.  Not the funny jovial laugh but more of a macabre laugh.  Carrie can barely walk 10 feet to the bathroom.  One day she was missing the kids.  She got herself out of bed.  Walked up the stairs.  Went up some more stairs to see if Tyler was home from school.  She pretty much collapsed in his bed.  I bring the kids to her now. 

Okay, but How Is She Doing?

This is hard on her.  She frequently asks, "Why did we do this again?"  She says repeatedly, "help me" which is both a weak whisper for help and a well practiced prayer.  There's not much I can do for her.  I can't take away the pain.  I can't make time go faster.  I can't bring her things to eat she can keep down.  She is hungry but doesn't keep food down and gags on anything more than a few teaspoons. 

May 15th feels like an eternity.