At the age of twelve I was told I had endometriosis. I didn’t understand what they meant. I just knew it was the reason why my period had lasted for a month.
I have insurance now for the first time in my life, and I decided I was going to take full advantage of it. A while back I told you all I was going to see an OBGYN in February and figure out what was going on with the miscarriages and the infertility.
Then Trent got sick. So, I was going to put off going. Even though I haden’t had a pap smear since I was 21.
I feel so fucking dumb. You don’t understand though. There were reasons for me never going to see a doctor about it. I was a kid when I found out I had endo and my mom had just died and I didn’t understand any of what was going on down there. And then I was an adult and would go to the health department and they would be REALLY mean! “You have had how many partners?’ The judgement in their voice palpable. I figured, I’m young, ain’t nothing gonna happen to me!
Mid February I started having pain in my lower back. It kind of was a weird pressure on my bladder that made it hard for me to pee. So, having insurance, (good insurance, ) I scheduled a pap smear to see if there was a connection.
I didn’t get into see the doctor until March 11th. The doctor I sought out was the same doctor I had in mind three months ago. He is great. Dr. K comes in and he’s super charming and easy to talk to. We go over my histories of miscarriages. He ask me about Trent. I tell him about endometriosis. I tell him about the pain and I want to know if it can be fixed.
“How long had you and your husband been trying to conceive? ”
“Almost six years,” I say.
“We have a problem. But it can be fixed, ” he says with such optimism it makes me feel like I’m not alone.
He describes a liproscopic procedure where they go in through the bellybutton and take anything off of my endometrium lining that could be causing me problems.
“Are you interested in this?” he asks.
“Absolutely, ” I say with tears in my eyes. Completely amazed that there is someone that can help me with this thing that has caused me so much pain my entire life.
He tells me he is going to get an ultrasound, look at it, and tell me when he can get me in the following week.
So I’m having my ultrasound done, she finishes, I call Trent and tell him what they plan on doing the following week. Trent is really happy and I am too. Dr. K knocks on the door and I tell Trent I will call him back.
The doctor doesn’t seem as optimistic as he was before …he looks worried.
….”….How heavy are your periods?”
“We need to do some exploration down there. …Your endometrium line is…so thick and hollow.” The more I talk to him, the more pauses are between his sentences. This is not the same confidant man I talked to less than 20 minutes ago.
“It looks like we may have a polyp growth. Or a growth of some kind. We are going to cut it off and see if it is benign.”
I sit there and I nod my head and I leave his office setting up an appointment for the procedure.
I call Trent and ….I fall down to the ground in tears. I can’t breath. Are you fucking kidding me?
I look up everything I can the next few days. Everything I’m reading is saying the same thing, once the pain reached the colon area it is never good. That’s with endometriosis, polyps, uteran cancer. But I won’t even know. So, for the next few days I sit here obsessing over every possible outcome.
I go to the pre op meeting and I talked to the anesthesiologist.
“Have you ever had a surgery?”
“Just one. I had my tonsils taken when I was twelve. I woke up during the surgery.”
She had a puzzled look on her face. “You woke up during the surgery?”
“Yeah. While they were inside my mouth. I remember them taking a few minutes to figure out I was awake…” I start to cry. “The last thing I remembered was everyone trying to hold me down. I woke up throwing up blood everywhere. After that it was always a big fear of mine, when is it going to happen again? When am I going to need surgery?”
She explains to me that it is known as Aware Anesthesia. She has only read about it, never seen it. What happened to me was a freak accident. She says the anesthesiologist will be by my side the entire time. He will never leave my side. He will be watching me the entire time.
“Now, we need to discuss your anxiety problem. ” She says.
“How could you tell? ”
She points to my collar bone where I look down and realize there is a huge whelp where I had been pinching myself. Something I haven’t done in years.
“I have generalized anxiety disorder with some obsessive compulsive tendencies. I’be been diagnosed with it since I was 12. I was medicated with Xanax for my entire life until the facility I was seeing to prescribe it was no longer allowed to. ”
“What do you do for you anxiety now?” She asks.
“…Deal with it, Pinch myself, Beta blocker, Drive everyone nuts talking in a loop.”
“We see that a lot in this town. I’m going to have something given to you first thing in the morning when you first get here.” She says.
I leave feeling a little better about the surgery. It is scheduled for March 21st at 7:45.
To the best of my knowledge he is going to go in there, blow a bubble of gas around all my organs,(dafuq?) And from there he will be poking around and feeling on all my major organs, scraping off anything that is on the lining that shouldn’t be, and removing any polyps he sees anywhere. Was told originally the recovery time is two days, but the more I’m reading, the different the answer to it is.
I’m sitting here tonight sad and angry. I mean, are you fucking kidding me?
I know I’m always talking about signs, but this is one hell of a way to get my attention. I’m not trying to go to the worst place, but I keep thinking, if its near the colon it is never good.
Not to mention the time I have to take off from work and the fact that THIS WASN’T APART OF THE STORY!
I feel very out of control and I really wish I could get my thoughts and my mind right before I go.
Meanwhile, do I really take that bad of care of myself that it even fucking came to this? Oh, that’s right! Who the fuck has time to take care of your self when you are working two jobs and your husband’s sick too.
It wasn’t supposed to go this way.
If you’re trying to get my attention-