My Conflict Between Western and Alternative Medicine

 

This piece is coming out later in a day than usual. I am kind of dreading to post it. In the past couple of weeks, as soon as I hit "publish" button, things hit the fan. First I wrote I was totally fine and as soon as I published it, I started getting nauseous. Then I wrote I was nauseous and as soon as I published that, I started vomiting. Then I wrote I was vomiting and as soon as I published that, I started throwing up everything I ate and could not keep anything down for over 24 hours. So yes, I am getting a little bit paranoid. 

You might remember from my last post that I have decided to try acupuncture. I had my first session last Wednesday. I heard from some women that the acupuncture worked for their morning sickness instantly, and from others that it didn't work at all. I still felt nauseous after I had it done, but not as nauseous as usually. I was thrilled. The acupuncturist recommended that I take some extra vitamins, digestive enzymes and a couple of homeopathics. I told Peter about it. Peter is a man of western medicine. He is also a western medicine doctor, so it makes sense. He was not too excited about it. 


The conversation that took place later that day went like this - I accused him of being biased. He agreed he was. I told him his western medicine hasn't figured out yet how to help me. He acknowledged it. I told him I can't believe he would prescribe me Zofran, but would flat out reject homeopathics and vitamins. He explained that Zofran has been studied and tested, unlike homeopathics. I started crying. Peter doesn't like to see me upset, so he said if I wanted to try it, he is OK with me taking the supplements, because I am probably right in that they will not harm the baby. 


By 9pm I was bursting at the seams from vitamin B6 and felt shittier than ever. Thursday morning I started throwing up and could not keep anything down. Everything that went in came immediately out. By Friday morning I was exhausted and scared. I called my doctor and asked for a Zofran prescription. I ate the first pill while still in the parking lot. Saturday I didn't puke anymore, but couldn't leave the bed, because I was so weak and miserable. On Sunday I started feeling much better. On Monday I saw the little bean's heartbeat on the ultrasound and felt well enough to eat a breakfast croissant. That encouraged me to make a last minute decision and go to the taping of Tuesday's Dancing With The Stars with my friend. It was great. We got on the dance floor to party with Val Chmerkovskiy. We witnessed a marriage proposal. We received a jewelry gift from Paula Abdul. We saw Derek Hough in a shower on stage. And I didn't need a barf bag at all!


So there it is. One day I was mad at Peter for suggesting Zofran, the next day I was begging for it. But if any of you expected him to throw it in my face, then you don't know Peter. He never mentioned anything. Because he doesn't need to be right, he just needs me to feel better. In this particular case, it is 1:0 for western medicine. 



2 Hours Later: I hit the "publish" button. I threw up. On Zofran. If this blog will be put to rest, you know why.

 

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