Cue the banjos
I'm on vacation, but I've been instructed to have bloodwork weekly, no matter what, until my hCG level has fallen to zero. Since this little Southern town barely has electricity, I dare not hope for state-of-the-art medical technology. I'll settle for hoping the good people at the hospital have discovered the merits of, you know, clean needles, antiseptic, and boiling water.
I bet they still give you a leather strap to bite down on when they amputate your leg after it's turned black and gangrenous. I bet they put a knife under the bed to cut the pain.
I do not feel pregnant in the least, and I'm fully expecting to have bottomed out by now. I still have twinges now and then in my right tube. It's an odd thing to know exactly where my Fallopian tubes are. Two months ago I couldn't have found them without calling AAA for roadside assistance.