Harvard, History and MGH

Our stay at the Clarendon was excellent. It is a 5 story brownstone in South Boston. I had originally chosen it because of the excellent recommendations on Google and was glad I did. Our room was on the ground level, was fairly spacious and even offered a balcony presumably to use when the weather is more accommodating.

We ventured to breakfast around 0900 and sat with a couple from NYC. Conversation was initially sparse and it made breakfast somewhat awkward. According to a Boston statute bed and breakfasts are not permitted to serve warm breakfasts so we filled ourselves with toast, yogurt, cheese, hard boiled eggs, OJ and milk.

Finally around 1000 we headed out toward our first stop, Harvard. We found the subway to be extremely easy to navigate as each train has a color and the directions is distinguished by the final destination. Brandi, ever fascinated by subways, was happy to learn that it was the oldest subway system in the United States. Harvard square was a bustling place. We stopped in to purchase some souvenirs at The Coop which we could not determine if it is pronounced as one syllable with a short o or with two syllables and a long o.

Brandi made a quick stop at the information booth to garner directions to The Concord Museum and the Old Manse. When the guy at the information booth said that he had never heard of either, I knew something was wrong. Brandi handed him the list of destinations her friend Ange had given us for things to do in the Boston area and was then informed that she was mistaking Cambridge for Concord. (Brandi's note: I know. I'm an idiot. Blame it on the hormones.)

Walking around the university, Brandi and I both remarked at the dorky nature of the students there, and many reminded her of some of her debate students—pretentious and wearing khakis. None-the-less the university was remarkable because of its history. We saw the house that George Washington called his first headquarters and Longfellow eventually lived. Many of the buildings were built in the 1700’s.

Our next destination was the Freedom trail. We started off by seeing where George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, John Adams and Benjamin Franklin went to primary school. At this point we were both a bit hungry and decided to stop into a little pub called The Hub Pub. Lunch was unremarkable and before continuing Brandi decided to stop in the restroom. As I waited by the door, I heard a voice from behind asking if my name is Garrett. Always an unsettling question, I answered that I am. She informed me that Brandi was in the restroom and was crying that that she was bleeding. As we rushed down the stairs, I feared the worst. The waitress told me that no one else was in the women’s rest room, not that it would have slowed me down. As I opened the door on the stall there was a great deal of blood. I was reminded of the Vietnam scene in Forest Gump when he comes upon the wounded Bubba who was doing his best to hold in his intestines, exclaiming “Oh no, Bubba.”

I spent a few moments trying to decide whether to call an ambulance or if a taxi would be best. Brandi called out that she would prefer a taxi and I asked the waitress to call us a cab and find out the nearest hospital. Shortly she returned and let me know that the taxi was on the way and that the nearest hospital is MGH (Massachusetts General Hospital). The bartender waited outside for the taxi, and it wasn’t but a few moments until the taxi arrived. When we told him the destination and saw Brandi sobbing he spared no mercy on the accelerator.

Within 10 minutes we were pulling up to the emergency doors. An attendant asked if we needed a wheelchair, declining we ran into the hospital. Brandi started walking aimlessly around the hospital and I ushered her toward the Emergency check-in. (Brandi's note: I was not "aimless." I saw a sign that said PATIENT ADMISSIONS and walked toward it. I was completely oblivious to the fact that the big red EMERGENCY sign was in the other direction.) Despite the area being packed the nurse retrieved Brandi a wheelchair and bypassed all the elderly complaining of shortness of breath. I spent most of my time trying to calm Brandi and take her focus off the problem, all the while I could not help noticing her blood soaked jeans.

Soon we found ourselves in the ultrasound room. Shortly we were greeted with our first good news and a very happy image. We saw our baby moving around. It warmed both of our hearts to learn that the heartbeat was 179. It was moving its arms and turned and gave us a clear view of its feet. Even the ultrasound technician exclaimed that she had never seen the baby’s feet from this angle before. Next we were taken back to the ICU and Brandi was examined several more times. At this point we learned that Brandi had two subchorionic hematomas. We learned that these are not uncommon but could be dangerous to the baby. The bleeding had ceased and we were ....--G

Brandi's note: Garrett finished here and asked me to complete the draft...

The hematomas are little tears in the placenta. Mine are small. One is 1 cm and the other is 2 cm. Apparently, the baby is oblivious to them. These happen fairly often and can take several roads. Most likely, they'll heal. They can also simply clot. Unfortunately, they can also increase or multiply resulting in a miscarriage. The doctors seemed simultaneously relieved and saddened with the news, wishing they could tell us something more positive.

We were both really impressed with our doctors and the staff. Not only did they move us quickly, but they were also kind. In addition to Garrett's expert calming effect in times of crisis, I was blessed to have a nurse attach herself to me at the beginning. Her name was Lorraine and she had the ability to make me focus simply on her smile and kind words. The ER doc was an enthusiastic younger guy named Dr. Wasfry. The OB was Dr. Moran whose demeanor totally reminded us of our friend Colleen, which made it all a bit easier. Later, a nice nurse who called me Mrs. Bartleby, Bartney, and everything else under the sun besides my name answered my request for a pair of clean pants. When she brought me new medium sized men's sweatpants I asked if we paid now or if they were added to the bill. She just laughed. "We usually give these to the drunks that piss themselves. I'd much rather give them to you!"

After six hours of food deprivation--well I was deprived of food and by Garrett's standards so was he even though he finished off an entire bag of beef jerkey and two protein bars in the ICU--they finally released us. Dr. Wasfry lived in the area and printed off a map of a favorite and nearby Italian restaurant: Artu. We got to see a bit of Beacon Hill on our short walk, and the food was delicious. Our waitress was adorable and managed to visit like old friends with all the people dining in the 26 seat restaurant. She informed Garrett that her cousin made up the dish he was eating, and we learned that it was mostly a family business.

We found our way back to the B&B via the nearby Red Line. The bed was soooo comfy.