I suppose
I suppose I should be happy that I don’t have cancer. That all the fluid from inside my pelvis and all the stuff inside my uterus turned out to be nothing bad.
That what had appeared to be a large fluid filled mass in my pelvis was actually a thin slice of scar tissue, extending from my uterus to my left ovary, behind which fluid had gotten trapped behind, causing it to swell up into what my doctor described as a “water balloon.”
The problem is, my insides look worse than they did before. Although Dr. Gel would like to think that this surgery will “stick” and I’ll have no more bleeding problems, no more complications from all the scar tissue..he is nowhere close to being optimistic.
Of course, I can’t have surgery every 14 or 16 months. Dr. Gel said that next time I started bleeding for months on end, or the next time big ol’ pockets of fluid accumulate inside me, then it was time to “consider the permanent options to fixing this problem.”
On the same note, he urged me to start trying for babies now if that was something I wanted to do, although he cautioned me that my insides “were, frankly, a rather large mess.” He even instructed me on how to prop my hips up after sex. And I was like, dude. I’m a blogger. There ain’t a whole lot you could tell me about trying to get pregnant that I don’t already know.
We talked about whether he thought it was possible for me to get pregnant, (It’s possible, but the left side is crap and he’s just not sure. But not impossible either.), about whether if I was pregnant I could have a c-section and take everything out with the baby (no), and whether he thought that emotionally I could handle a delivery given my sexual trauma history (yes, he’s dealt with it before, they could do things to help me like making sure that only the bare minimum of people were in the room.)
In the end, I walked away quite upset. Upset because I had seen the picture of my bad ovary (Galinda) and how it looks like an utter piece of shit. Upset because Geo and I had talked about trying to get pregnant but we weren’t sure when to do it and now they are saying…uh..NOW would be good. Just upset because once again, my body proves to be a big piece of shit that doesn’t work. And everytime I think about that, I’m reminded why that is, and it makes me feel even more like shit.
Anyway, Geo and I haven’t gotten much of a chance to talk about it yet, other than me crying and him saying that I was brave and that he was proud of me.
Oh, and did you know that you can track your cycles to help you get pregnant?
Sigh.
February 29th, 2008 at 4:39 pm
I’m so sorry. This must be so hard for you. I understand why, despite the relief over not having cancer or something like that, you still feel pretty down.
I just wish the best for your whole little family!
February 29th, 2008 at 4:52 pm
Galinda is such an effing bitch. There’s really nothing I can say to make this better for you, but just know that if there were ANYTHING I could do to make it all better, I absolutely would. In the meantime, I’ll just hope for the best possible outcome and your good health.
February 29th, 2008 at 5:19 pm
I had no clue that tracking cycles might help me get pregnant…interesting…
(just kidding, if I had a dollar for every cycle I tracked, in hopes of becoming pregnant, I’d be quite a rich girl)
Anyway, sorry your body is not being particularly nice right now (though I’m glad that cancer is not the issue!!). I hope for the best for you!!
February 29th, 2008 at 5:28 pm
Sounds like it was a great visit. Perhaps you could just give Galinda her eviction notice and rent the space to someone more accommodating?
I remember a similar visit for myself, I cried for weeks. We talked it out and began trying, we figured there was no time like the present for a baby. I hope y’all figure out what is best for you and move towards it without ever looking back.
February 29th, 2008 at 6:06 pm
I wish you the best. I know how hard it is when you desire to get pregnant. Blessings.
February 29th, 2008 at 7:57 pm
I wish we could take the pain and the crap away - I wish, I wish we could.
I’m sorry.
February 29th, 2008 at 8:41 pm
Wow. What can I say?
February 29th, 2008 at 9:59 pm
Baggage, I’m not sure if this is reassuring or not, but I’ve been through a vaginal delivery after PTSD and trauma, and not only was I fine, even though I was sure I’d be a disaster, but I actually found it to be a very healing experience, because I was able to reclaim a part of my body that I thought was worthless and useless. It can work out, it really really can.
As for the ovary, I’ll put my shrivelled up granny pair against Galinda any old day. And if mine can work, then Galinda can get up off her lazy butt and go to it.
Tonight, have a glass of wine and try to think about other things. Life will seem clearer in the morning.
February 29th, 2008 at 10:22 pm
You feel like your body is a big piece of shit right now… but I think the most important parts definitely work great!
February 29th, 2008 at 10:38 pm
I’m glad it’s not cancer, and pissed off that it’s messy in there. Galinda needs to get with the program. I’m so sorry you have to make a rush decision on the whole babies thing.
March 1st, 2008 at 12:33 am
I’m sorry - that sucks really bad. Hang in there. *hugs*
March 1st, 2008 at 5:05 am
Wow, that is a lot to digest and think about!
March 1st, 2008 at 6:51 am
Just wanting to give you some hugs. I hope everything works out for you.
March 1st, 2008 at 9:54 am
Thank God it’s not cancer, but there’s nothing like being blindsided by a semi (GO, get pregnant NOW!) while you’re busy worrying about a totally different issue.
Relax and breathe. Take time to sort your emotions about this. Have a glass of wine. Or two. Hell, just get a bottle and a straw.
Hugs.
March 1st, 2008 at 11:34 pm
I don’t remember when or how I found your blog but I’ve been reading it for a while. I just wanted to tell you check out the book “Taking Charge of Your Fertility” by Toni Weschler. There is a website that is dedicated to it as well called Ovusoft that you can likely get lots of information from.
March 2nd, 2008 at 10:50 am
That’s rough, and tough, and crappy. I’m sorry, Miss Baggage, really I am.