Taking Bets

My ankles have this problem. Not all the time, but by days end on those days I tend to forget I actually have an excuse to sit with my feet up for a spell. My ankles, you see, become rather tree trunk like. Almost non-existent. My calves just sort of melt off into giant, poofy, Hobbit feet without the excess hair. This is a mild cause for concern only because the only clue last time that I had developed pre-eclampsia at 37 weeks (other than the OB visit with the higher blood pressure reading) was tree trunk ankles. I feel fine outside of that - well not "fine" but fine in that I have no other noticeable, worrisome symptoms. No blinding headaches, no blurred vision, nothing like that. I am just retaining water like a camel only instead of my back it goes to my feet and ankles. Not all the time, typically just starting say around mid-afternoon into evening at which point I'm lying on my left side, feet up between regular bathroom breaks.

So that brings us to my next appointment and The Bet. My appointment is on Friday in the afternoon. Its with Dr. Panic. The one that rushes you to the ER when you have a sinus infection and strep throat - ordering an emergency room ultrasound despite the fact baby's heartrate is good and you feel oodles of movement. He's the one the orders lots of test because you gained 4 pounds in 3 weeks.

Yesterday B asks who the appointment is with this week. I tell him Dr. P.

B - Oh, so then you will probably have the baby this weekend, huh?

Me - Huh?

B - Well its an afternoon appointment, right?

Me - Well yeah.

B - And you're 38 weeks by then, right?

Me - Right, 38 weeks on Wednesday or something like that.

B - So I figure your ankles will be swollen by the appointment on Friday because they do that now and Dr. Panic will freak out thinking you're about to repeat your history.

Me - Ahhh....well...umm. . .

B - And since you're full term at 38 weeks, right? Well I'm just saying I won't be surprised if you're calling me at 3:30 saying "Take Logan to stay with Grandpa and head over to the hospital with Grandma."

Me - Oh. . my... ugh. Darn that Dr L and his vacation! Can't the man go away when I'm not pregnant?!

Of course, those that have played along for a while know that I am more than ready for this baby to arrive. I'm not totally freaked out by the notion that B could be right. I am not totally happy that it would mean Dr. P would be around for delivery. In fact, I'd almost be willing to keep lowering my own Pictocin drip if we're talking induction until I knew the practice's third doctor was on call. Almost, not quite. However, if this girl decides to take after her brother in the slightest, the idea of her peeing on Dr. P is kind of fun. (Yes, the VERY first thing my son did with his life was pee on my OB.)