It's the FInal Countdown

Did anyone else hear the 80's band Europe in their head when they read the title? Just me, huh? I'm ok with that. So I spent the earlier part of the week at the hospital wishing like hell this kid would just come out already. Monday I started having really bad dizzy spells, so I go to my doctor only to be told I am dehydrated and I have a UTI. So she writes me a prescription and tells me to drink plenty of water and stay in bed. Done. Tuesday I get up and feel somewhat normal, but as I'm standing in front of the mirror getting ready to go to work, my ears started sounding like a test from the National Broadcast System...this is only a test. I walked towards my bed and suddenly got that "Oh crap, I'm about to black out" feeling. I compare it too being so drunk, that when you lay down on the bed and close your eyes, the bed feels like it's spinning. Only I had my eyes open and was walking through my bedroom. You can imagine. Day 2 at the hospital. This time they hooked me up to a fetal monitor for 30 minutes to make sure the baby was ok. I'm not one to sit in a room for half an hour with nothing to do but stare at the walls. Not only was I bored beyond belief, the chair they sat me in was this old busted ass recliner that wouldn't stay reclined unless you put constant pressure on the arm of the chair. So here I am pushing with all my strength to keep this monster chair from slinging me out in the floor, when the nurse says, "Can you hold this monitor on your stomach? If you let go it loses the heartbeat." Sure, why the hell not. It's not like I have anything else to do for the next 30 minutes of my life. So for what seemed like the next 3-4 hours, I had my left arm pushing on the arm of the chair and my right arm pressing this monitor into my stomach. After the torture room, I was sent to the ultrasound room to make sure the baby had enough fluid and to see if he has turned. As I'm sitting on the table waiting for the nurse to come back with towels, I notice NHP looking at something next to me. I look over to find the ultrasound wand with about half a pound of old gel on the end. Is that from all the other patients today? Surely she'll wipe that bad boy off before she smears it all over my belly. NHP is quite the germ freak and this was obviously tearing him up to see this nastiness. So, the nurse walks in with a huge bundle of towels under her arm. Does she stop to put them away? Does she lay them on the counter until she has more time to put them in their proper place? Nope. She just drops them right there on the nasty, stained floor. Then, she proceeds to pull one out and drape it across my lap. More looks from NHP. Then, it happened. She grabs the wand of crap and slaps it on my stomach before I had a chance to protest. Here I am trying to enjoy seeing my little boy and all I can think about is the fact that this lady is rubbing everyone elses funk all over me. I wanted to scream. Anyway, having said all that, let me get to the point. My doctor is inducing me on August 1st at 6:30 in the morning. I'm usually not even up at 6:30, much less pushing a 7 pound human from my body. Why can't they schedule that to my needs? I'm the one going through all the pain and discomfort. Oh well, at least I can be content in the fact that this is the last time I will go through this. Not to mention the fact that when it's over, I'll have a beautiful baby boy to love.