Thumpity-Thump
THE HUMAN BODY is its own country, complete with its own laws and its own language. Navigating its diverse terrain requires a spirit of adventure and an ability to translate the blueprint our chemistry has written inside us.
Over the past century, collaborative efforts, advances in technology, and a full embrace of the scientific method have created a detailed map of this country. This dramatic expansion of our scientific knowledge base has had significant consequences for human health, but blank spots still remain. My husband and I stumbled onto one of them halfway through my first pregnancy.
When I was twenty-five weeks pregnant, my gynecologist used a handheld Doppler to measure the fetal heart rate. She said the baby’s heart rate was “on the low side of normal” and sent me home to rest and drink fluids. Unhappy to stray from a normal checkup, I remained horizontal and consumed my body weight in liquids for two days. I planned to drown the problem, whatever it was.
But water and rest didn’t do the trick, and I was quickly handed off to a fetal cardiologist, who, after examining me, thought we needed to be in the skilled hands of the high-risk OB practice at the hospital.
The high-risk doctor who briefed us on the diagnosis said he hadn’t seen a case like ours in ten years, despite working in a major hospital, serving one of the biggest cities in the United States. Upon hearing this admission, my instinct was to shake the doctor’s hand, thank him for his time, and find the nearest exit. I knew that doctors relied on documented case histories, as well as their personal experience of past successes and failures, to guide their decision-making. Haven’t seen a case like yours in ten years sounded like a very thin script to work from.
But my legs wouldn’t move. And where
