Saturday, July 12, 2014

My Hysterectomy

I will be using proper names for female body parts and bodily functions in this post.  There will also be pictures of my belly after surgery.  It's going to be long because I want to get the whole story out in one post.  If any of these bother you, please skip this post.

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So, twelve days ago I had my surgery (to read why, go here).  A total hysterectomy and oophorectomy.  He removed my uterus, cervix, ovaries, and fallopian tubes.  He cut the parts away laparoscopically using a DaVinci robot and delivered them vaginally.  He then sewed up the top of my vagina to keep everything inside from falling out.  I think that's the gist of it.

This is a picture from the internet of the DaVinci robot:
DaVinci Robot - cool looking, huh?
And this is what it looks like in action:
DaVinci robot in actual surgery, but not my surgery
The surgeon is that guy over on the left with his head in a box who looks like a ref watching instant replays in a football game (I'm pretty sure that's not what he's really doing).  That piece is separate from the robot.  Some of the internet pictures have it up close to the robot, some have it across the room.  No idea how close it was during my surgery, obviously.  The surgeon uses controls to maneuver the robot and do the laparoscopic part of the surgery (kind of like the crane game).  The advantage to using the robot instead of traditional laparoscopic surgery (according to my surgeon) is that with the robot he has full 360 degree rotation and with traditional he only has 180 degree rotation.  My feeling was this -- if he's the one doing the surgery I'd like him to use the method he is most comfortable with and has the most faith in.  I trust that he knows better than I do.

And this is how it all went down.

I went in the Friday before my surgery for a blood and urine test.  They look for anything that could be a reason not to do surgery or a situation to monitor.  They do a pregnancy test -- because, duh, taking my uterus.  At this time a nurse also reviewed my health and medication history.  I signed several forms, including one that said I understood that after my surgery I wouldn't be able to give birth anymore.  Apparently, some women haven't understood this in the past.  Oops.

I got a call later that night telling me there was a questionable result on my urine test.  It was possible that I had an infection, but not definite.  The nurse asked if I had any of the symptoms of a urinary tract infection, as she named them.  I didn't.  She said they were incubating a sample and would let me know if there was a problem, but it was probably just a contaminated sample.  Like maybe I touched something I shouldn't have in the collection process.  Anyway, I never got a call back on that so I guess it turned out okay.

My surgery was on Monday, June 30.  I was to be at the hospital at 11:00am to begin the whole process.  Shortly after we arrived (my husband and I) they took us back to pre-op.  The nurse came in and went over the flow of the process with us.  Pre-op, holding, operating room, post-op, room.  They had a board with the estimated time of things and I was instructed to let them know if the time passed and things hadn't happened as she explained them.  I think that was an important thing for me.  I tend to be extra patient and would probably just wait.  The surgery did start later than expected, but she had come in and told us it would and gave us a revised time, which was accurate.

She then reviewed the pain scale.  It looked something like this:
Pain Scale
She asked me where on this pain scale I would normally take something for the pain.  I said probably around a 6 or 7.  She said that wouldn't work in the hospital.  They want to know when my pain is about a 4 or 5.  I'm pretty sure I looked quite incredulous.  I said I would do my best to pay close attention and tell them at that point, but I sometimes don't notice it at that level (due to my chronic pain, I've had to learn to ignore most pain).  They took more blood and urine to test.  She hooked up my IV.  She hung an antibiotic on the IV post and said they would start that when they started my surgery.  And we waited.  How long did we wait?  I'm not sure.  We got there at eleven.  My surgery was scheduled to start at twelve thirty.  It was pushed back to one forty-five because the one before me went a little long.  I don't know how long the nurse's stuff took.  They took me back to holding at about twenty after one (if I'm remembering correctly, which no one should really count on).  My husband gave me a kiss and we went our separate ways.

In holding it was just a nurse working at a computer and me.  The room looked like it could hold several beds, I'm guessing six or so, but there weren't any others in there for most of the time.  This is where my surgeon and anesthesiologist met with me prior to surgery.  It's also where I presented this picture to my surgeon, who left it with my chart so the anesthesiologist and nurses could see it:
The creature
I explained to my doctor that I was pretty sure this was the creature that was chewing and clawing it's way from my body.  I wanted to make sure he recognized it when he found it.  He, the anesthesiologist, and the nurse each got a chuckle out of it.

Both doctors explained (in their separate visits) what they were going to be doing.  They asked if I had any questions.  They were both very kind.  They both seemed sincere in their concern for me.  My heart felt calm in their presence.  I felt safe in their hands, which was very important to me.

I spent about fifteen minutes in holding, give or take a few minutes (there were clocks visible everywhere so I could keep track).  Then they wheeled me to the operating room.

I don't remember a ton about the operating room.  I remember thinking it had a lot of equipment in it.  It also seemed like there were a lot of people in there.  They put my bed up next to a narrower bed and had me skootch (totally a real word) over to the smaller one.  There were no rails on this one like there had been on the other one.  I had a slight feeling that I could fall off.  But not for long because then they put a strap over my hips and secured me to the table.  The anesthesiologist told me he was giving me something in my IV to relax me (although I was amazingly calm, much more so than I expected to be).  Then someone, I'm guessing it was the anesthesiologist, told me they were going to give me oxygen and put a mask on me.

The next thing I was aware of was a man trying to wake me up in post-op.  I was very nauseous and worried that I would throw up, which was a concern I had prior to surgery.  I told whoever the man was waking me up that I felt like I was going to throw up and could he give me something.  He told me he'd already given me three things for nausea (if I remember correctly) but would give me something else.  He also handed me a cool blue bag with a round plastic neck in case I did throw up.  I kept this bag with me throughout that first day.

Through my still sedated haze I could see that there was a clock on the wall.  I fought through the medication to clear my vision enough to read it.  My daughter is on a mission and only gets to communicate home through email once a week.  I knew she would be doing so some time between 4:00pm and 5:00pm.  My other daughter was supposed to email her info on how the surgery went as soon as my husband got word and called her.  I wanted to make sure we hit that window.  I knew the surgery was supposed to take a couple hours so we might be cutting it close.

When my vision cleared enough to see the clock I saw that is was about four fifteen.  I asked the man if my husband had been given an update and explained to him why it mattered how quickly it was done.  He said my husband had been told and he would go find him to see if my missionary daughter had been told.  He came back shortly to report that communication had gone back and forth with my missionary daughter and she had the info.  Then I relaxed a bit.

I was moved to my room shortly after that.  We passed my husband in the hall, who joined us.  I think he waited in the hallway while they got me situated in my room.

He stayed with me until about eight that night, when I sent him home to sleep.  I wanted him to be rested when he took me home the next day.  My three younger kids (15, 17, 19) and a friend who's like our kid visited.  My parents visited (after receiving permission).  They can sometimes be stressful for me, but I understood that they needed to see that I was doing okay.  Their visit was short and nice.  And I was doing fabulously!  Every nurse commented that they just don't usually have people who are that happy on their floor.  I guess I threw off the anesthesia quicker than most.  And because all the anxiety I'd had before surgery was gone, I was very happy.  I had pain, but that I can handle.

I pretty much asked for the meds on schedule.  They gave me morphine to begin with.  I think that was every two hours.  Then they added something else; I want to say Tramadol, but I'm not sure.  Whatever that second one was, it was longer between doses.  Six hours maybe.  I was on a clear liquids diet, which was fine because I was still nauseous.  I got strawberry jello and a couple things of grape juice.  And water.  The nurse warned me to sip, no matter how hungry/thirsty I was.  Good advice!  I didn't want anything coming back up.

After my husband left I played hand solitaire and tried to find something to watch on TV.  I don't generally watch commercial TV, so it was tough.  I found a channel with old shows and watched some Murder She Wrote and later watched O, Brother, Where Art Thou?  I also went for four laps around the nurses station.  The nurse walked next to me, but I was stable enough on my feet to do fine just holding the IV stand.  The nurse was thrilled with my efforts; she said usually she can't convince people to even get out of bed and try walking.

I barely slept, which I knew would happen.  I listened to an audio book of Harry Potter on my mp3 player (I always listen to Harry Potter when I sleep because I am such a light sleeper; it's my white noise).  The nurses did their best to keep the interruptions to a minimum and keep the lights off to help me sleep.  It just wasn't happening.  When the phlebotomist came in at 3:00am to draw my blood I was awake.  (I guess my hematocrit had been low prior to surgery and they wanted to check that).

I had a little trouble with my catheter.  I still felt like I needed to go to the bathroom, which is a sign that it's not in right or is kinked or something.  And there wasn't as much output as would be expected from what I was drinking.  The nurse worked with it a couple of times.  It worked okay for a bit and then struggled again.  The other nurse had told me that since I was doing so well she would take the catheter out at six if I wanted her to.  Otherwise, they'd wait until I woke up.  I said six would be great.  It ended up that the nurse was in my room around five for something else, medication or IV or something.  I asked when she could take the catheter out.  She thought for a second and then said she could do it right then if I wanted.  I definitely wanted!  So she took it out and told me I had seven hours to pee on my own.  If I couldn't by then they would do a scan and see if they could figure out what was wrong.

On the information board in the room they write what the goals are for the patient.  The main goal was pain management.  Then she added "urinate by noon."  I can honestly say I don't think I've ever had peeing as a goal.  I had no problem meeting that goal.  I was able to pee all by myself within an hour or so of her removing the catheter. 

She switched me to a soft solids diet some time during the night.  After the catheter was removed I was finally able to get a few hours of sleep.  When I woke up I ordered breakfast.  I was so excited to be on a soft solids diet because it meant I could have milk!  Milk is what I usually use to soothe my nausea at home, so I was glad to have it.  I had pancakes, hashbrowns, two cartons of milk, and some tapioca pudding.  I wasn't a fan of the tapioca, but I ate everything because it had been so long since I'd had real food (fasting for surgery, of course).  I showered and put on a clean gown and underthings.  I went for another walk, without an escort.  Five laps this time.  I also asked for something other than morphine, since it was making me itch.  They added Percocet in its place (every four hours).  And the nurse applied an estrogen patch to my abdomen, to wear for seven days before switching to pills.

My husband and oldest daughter (23) came over around nine.  My 19-year old daughter is a nanny and brought the kids she cares for to visit. 

My doctor had told me I would get to go home after one night in the hospital.  Since I've taken care of many family members and a few friends while they were in the hospital I knew it wouldn't be until after the doctor made his rounds, which are usually done in the morning.  We hadn't heard anything by about noon so we asked our nurse to check on it.  He said he'd seen my doctor on the floor so he didn't know why he hadn't come to see me.  My nurse came back shortly and said the doctor had started his rounds but was interrupted by an emergency.  He would return when that was taken care of.

He came around one.  As he washed his hands I asked, "Did you get him?" (meaning the creature).  After only a slight pause he said, "Yeah, I ran him out of there."  He said he'd been getting a report from the nurse and been told I was hopping all over the place.  A wonderful report.  He asked how I was doing (fabulous!) and gave me instructions.  He asked if I had any questions.  I had typed my questions into a text message to myself in my phone so I wouldn't forget.

I asked how much it mattered if the pain meds made me itch (Percocet does a little).  He said as long as I could breathe okay, he wasn't worried about it.  And he said I could take Meclizine (which I had at home) with the Percocet for the itching if I wanted to.

I asked about yoga.  I have been wanting to start, but was waiting until after my surgery because I'd been hurting so much.  He said he didn't want me doing anything straining.  Yoga is out for a while.

Then I told him I have a high tolerance for pain and since I have chronic pain I just usually ignore it.  I asked him how much I needed to respect this pain.  He said my toughest struggle would probably be wanting to do more than I should because I felt so good.  We agreed that I would take the pain meds on schedule for 72 hours rather than according to my pain.  I agreed to not do dishes or laundry for two weeks.  I agreed to not lift anything over 15 pounds or spend too much time on my feet.

The nurse asked the doctor if he could take my IV out then, if he was done with it.  The doctor said yes.  But I'd been watching the clock and I know how things go as someone leaves the hospital.  It was almost time for my next dose of IV pain meds.  I asked if we could wait fifteen minutes and give me that last dose before removing it.  The doctor said that would be a good idea.

He left.  I got packed up.  The nurse gave me my last dose and removed the IV.  I got dressed.  The nurse came back with discharge papers.  He said someone had to accompany me out but I didn't have to ride in the wheelchair if I didn't want to.  That made me very happy.  I hate being pushed in a wheelchair, especially when I feel fine.  I signed all the papers and got the ones he was sending home with me.  The nurse shook my hand and thanked me for making his day fun.

Soon a lady came with a wheelchair.  I told her the nurse had said I didn't have to ride in one.  She said I could just put my stuff in it then, which is what I did.  As we walked to the elevator she asked what I'd had done.  I said, kind of embarrassed because of how well I was doing, that I'd had a hysterectomy the day before.  She said, "Wow.  You're doing great!"

The valet brought us our car and we were on our way.

I had amazing nurses the whole time.  In fact, everyone I interacted with was awesome, right from the first phone call.  Seriously, I couldn't have asked for kinder people.

I was sent home with a prescription for Percocet, prescription Ibuprofen, estrogen pills, and a stool softener (which was actually over the counter).  I took them on schedule for three days.  I took my last Percocet Friday morning, four days after my surgery.  I took the Ibuprofen (one at night and one in the morning) through Sunday. 

Monday afternoon I got a call from the surgeon's office checking on me.  How are you doing?  Great!  Any trouble urinating?  Nope.  Doing great.  Any trouble with bowel movements?  Nope.  You're able to go okay and without straining?  Yep.  We don't want any straining because you could pull your stitches.  Nope, no problem.  And how's your pain management?  Great.  What are you taking for the pain?  Nothing.  Really?!  You're not taking anything?  Nope.  And you're great?  Yep.  Well, okay.  I see you're already scheduled for your follow up and you say you're great so I guess we're done.

I've really been so much better than I expected to be.  My friends and family have been amazed at how well I am.  One friend said I seem so much better, they must have gotten something that was making me sick.

And I do feel so much better than I did before surgery.  Did it cure the problem?  It's hard to know for sure because there is still some pain in the same area that was hurting before because that's where they cut parts of my body out.  But I think so.

And this is what it looks like after:
July 2, two days after surgery
They make four incisions for the robot, including one in my belly button.  The incisions have surgical glue on them.  I think the doctor said the glue was over stitches, but I could be wrong.  It might have been in place of stitches entirely.  I never saw any stitches.  That white thing on the lower right is the estrogen patch.  To do the laparoscopic surgery they inflate your abdomen so they can see everything and maneuver.  I have no idea how long it takes for all of that air to leave, but my belly definitely still felt swollen for several days.

July 3, three days after surgery
That bruise on my belly button got bigger and darker for a few days.  The surgical glue started pulling up around the edges by this time.

July 9, nine days after surgery
The bruises are mostly gone by this point.  I took the estrogen patch off that morning, but the skin there was a little sensitive so I decided not to worry about the glue left behind from the patch until the skin there healed a bit.  The surgical glue is gone from everywhere except my navel.  It didn't rub enough to loosen it and that area was a bit tender so I left it alone.  You probably can't tell, but the incision on the left isn't healing quite as quickly as the two on the right.  It's possible that I might have encouraged that glue off a little sooner than it was ready.  Don't do that!  If you do, it's possible that the wound will weep a little and glue itself to your clothes and then when you move quickly you will tear off the scab and start bleeding and it will hurt.  Don't ask me how I know this is a possibility.

July 11, eleven days after surgery
Bruises almost completely gone.  Surgical glue gone.  Skin under patch healed enough to scrub clean.

Oh!  I forgot to mention vaginal bleeding.  I expected to bleed more.  I wore a pad for a few days (no tampons allowed because of the danger of infection).  The day of surgery I had some bleeding.  Not much though, like a light to moderate day of period bleeding.  The second day it was less.  By the third day I wasn't really bleeding anymore, just had some pink when wiping.  By the fourth day I was done.  It's kind of crazy that there wasn't more blood.  I bled a lot after having babies; I kind of thought it would be like that as things healed.  I guess it makes sense that things would heal much faster when they do it surgically and sew things up and cauterize them.

I am still on the same restrictions I was given when I left the hospital.  I see my surgeon Monday for my two week follow up.  At this visit he will check my abdomen to make sure that's all healing well.  We will also discuss which restrictions I still need to live by and which can be lifted.  I see him again around six weeks post-op.  At this visit he will do a vaginal exam to make sure everything is healing properly there, that I haven't pulled any stitches, and that nothing is falling out.  He expects that all restrictions will be lifted at this appointment except for one.  No vaginal penetration until eight weeks post-op.

I'm really feeling great.  I'm so glad to have it over with.  Everyone who took care of me was fabulous.  I even received a thank you card from the nurses who took care of me thanking me for letting them care for me and wishing me swift healing.

I can't imagine anything in the whole process going any better.  And I'm so grateful!

Thursday, June 26, 2014

I'm Sorry to Have Taken Your Time

I haven't written much the last few months.  There's a very good reason why.  Since my diagnosis of uterine prolapse and then my decision to have a total hysterectomy and oophorectomy I really can't think of much else.  I've written a few posts about it but not a lot.

And here's why - I'm pretty sure everyone in my life is sick of hearing about it.

So how am I supposed to write if all I can think about is something others are bored with?

As I pondered this question I realized two things.  First, it's my blog and I can write about whatever I want.  I'm always saying my blog is more for me than for anyone else.  So why am I holding back this time?  Which leads me to the second realization.  I am holding back because again I feel like I am inflicting myself on others and it's my job to protect them from having to experience my life.

That last part is an ongoing issue for me.  It has been for as long as I can remember.  I often feel guilty when I take others' time.  There are many people I would like to be closer to.  There are many people I'd like to visit.  There are many people I'd like to spend time with.  But I don't initiate these encounters because their time is limited and they shouldn't have to spend it with me.

Even when people have loosely invited me to do so.

"Let me know when we can get together for lunch."  "Stop by again some time."  "Come see me."  But because there's no scheduled time I am sure I'll pick the wrong time and they will let me stay to be polite, but they will be counting the minutes until I leave because they've got things to do.  More important things to do.  More important than me.

It sounds stupid when I say it; but it's how I feel.

Why do I feel this way?  I'm pretty sure it's because my parents always made me feel like I was a burden.  So now I feel like a burden to everyone.  (Which is also why it's so difficult for me to ask for help - even when I really need it.)

And because I am such a burden, I want to protect people from me.  I don't want to be the albatross around their neck.

It's dumb.  And I'm working on it.  And now that I've realized it about this situation I'm going to stop it.

This is my blog.  And I want to write about my pain and upcoming surgery.  And if you don't want to read about it, you're a big girl (or boy) and can take care of yourself.  Click away and go somewhere else.  You are responsible for your choices and feelings and I am responsible for mine.

I'm hurting.  A lot!  I feel like there is an alien inside my uterus eating me alive as it chews and claws its way out.  My ovaries feel like they are tied in knots (okay, maybe that's my fallopian tubes).  Sharp, shooting pain that radiates down my leg making it difficult to walk.  Sometimes I can't stand up straight because it hurts so bad.  There is no position that makes it better and no pain killer seems to help.

I have so much I still want to do to get my home and life ready for my recuperation time.  It's four days away now so I'm running out of time.  It's a bad time to be hurting so much because I can't do anything.  It is making me prioritize though, decide what's the most important to get done.  It's also reminding me I'm making the right decision about having surgery.

You see, I'm terrified of the surgery.  But more terrified about life after surgery.

I don't want to be anesthetized. I don't want to be cut open.  I don't want parts of my body removed.  I don't want those first moments coming out of anesthesia, being disoriented, nauseous, and helpless.

I don't want to be the patient.  I don't want to be the center of attention.  I don't want to need help.  I don't want to be weak.

I don't want to hurt.  I don't want to be on narcotics.  I don't want the rebound headache that's going to follow.  I don't want the potential depression that could come from sedative use.  I don't want the hormonal hurricane that will follow and the emotional trauma I could experience and/or cause.

I don't want my family to worry about me, especially my children.

I don't want to be an inconvenience to anyone.  I don't want to take their time and emotional energy.

And we're right back where this post started.  I don't want to be a burden or a bother.

The decision is right.  I am sure of this in my heart.  And mind.  And body.  I just wish it didn't come with so much other junk.

Tuesday, June 10, 2014

How My Prolapsed Uterus is Like a Pregnancy

I counted the other day and it turns out I will be having my hysterectomy and oophorectomy (removal of the ovaries) about nine months after I first started really hurting and knew I needed to go to the doctor.  This got me thinking about the other ways this whole thing has been like a pregnancy.

The biggest similarity is the nesting.  Okay, I'm not getting my house ready for a new baby, but I have been deep cleaning and getting my house ready for my down time and possibly visitors.  I don't generally receive visitors in my bedroom, but that will be a possibility for a few days after surgery.  So I wanted it to be presentable.  All those things I've wanted to do for a long time to make it the way I wanted it to be are finally getting done now.  I've been deep cleaning and purging so I can recuperate in peace without being anxious about things that need to be done.  Other than maintenance (which includes getting my family to actually clean up after themselves), my house is ready!

Discomfort.  Ugh.  Being pregnant brings about all kinds of weird and unexpected changes to your body.  And you spend so much time worrying if this is normal or something to worry about.  Should I call the doctor?  Do I need to go to the hospital?  Twinges.  Pain.  Swelling.   Cramping.  The one thing that's been nearly constant these last nine months is a cramping uterus - very like contractions only less come-and-go and more constant, like a Charlie horse.  It feels like I have a giant rock in my lower abdomen, very much like when I was about two months pregnant.  Uncomfortable to me, but not noticeable to anyone else.

And, because of my uterus being displaced, a more frequent need to pee.

An ultrasound as part of the diagnostic process.

Way too many pelvic exams.

Way more doctors visits than I'd like.

Deciding when and how to tell people.

Lots of people asking when my date is (surgery date as opposed to due date).

And when it's time I will go to the hospital and have a delivery of sorts and spend a night in the hospital while they monitor my bleeding and recovery.

I won't be bringing home a bundle of joy (but I also won't be gaining another lifelong responsibility).  There will be no naming of anything under any circumstances.

But hopefully, when all is said and done, I will experience the same joy and freedom and relief that comes after pregnancy when I feel like I finally have my body back the way it should be.  Fingers crossed!

Friday, May 23, 2014

Tangle in Peace - My New Blog

I am drawing more than I expected and participating in online challenges more than I thought I would.  I want to have a place to put my pieces online so that they don't take over this blog.  The idea of just a separate tab for my art isn't working.

So I made a new blog, Tangle in Peace.  It's still very much in the infant stage.  No bells or whistles.  I will probably dress it up a little and personalize it more in the future.  And that is where I will be posting my tangle attempts.

You're all invited over there anytime.

Saturday, May 17, 2014

Why Haven't I Been Writing?

Maybe it's because I've started drawing and that's filling a creative need previously filled with writing.

Maybe it's because the pain medication I've been taking has sedated my brain, making it quiet.

Maybe it's because my energies have been occupied with urgent things.

Maybe it's because I am in a foggy place mentally.

Maybe it's because it's just not a writing time for me.

Who knows?  Whatever the reason, I hope the desire to write returns soon.  I miss that part of me.

Saturday, May 3, 2014

Health Update -- Not for the Faint of Heart

I will try to keep this clean, but my story may still make some a bit squeamish.

First, the basics.  I had my annual physical a few weeks ago.  Everything seems okay.  We didn't do blood work yet because I've switched thyroid meds and we'll need to do blood work for that in a couple of months anyway.  In order to spare me a poke, we're doing it all then.

I wanted his feedback on my thoughts about how to proceed regarding my prolapsed uterus.  I wanted to give him my full medical history (since this is my first full physical with this new doctor).  I wanted to give him an overview of my current symptoms, not looking to fix anything but just to give him a whole picture and see if anything worried him.  And I wanted to switch thyroid meds from a synthetic to a natural.

Doctors prefer the synthetic for more accurate dosing control, so it's not always easy to get one to switch you when your numbers are good.  My thyroid numbers have been good for a couple of years, but I still feel horrible.  My gut told me I needed to try something new.  He was a bit reluctant but said if I felt really strongly about it he would be willing to give it a try.  I've been on the new medication for about two and a half weeks.  I don't want to jinx anything, but I have been feeling a bit better on the energy front.  Not great.  And no where near how I used to feel.  But I have been able to do a bunch of work around the house - spring cleaning - that I had wanted to do for a long time but just couldn't make myself do because I was so exhausted.  Any improvement on the energy front is wonderful, so I'll gladly take these baby steps with joy.

After hearing my full medical history (including a headache for eight and a half years) and seeing my list of symptoms he suggested another MRI.  It's been about eight years since I had one and my symptoms certainly warrant it.  I told him I want to wait until we try the new meds for a while and after I have surgery and let my body adjust a bit.  If things are still the same I'll have the MRI then.  Besides, we have a one year waiting period for pre-existing conditions that will end in September.  Perfect timing.

I told him about my uterine prolapse diagnosis from the gynecologist and said that after all my research I wanted to have a complete hysterectomy, including ovaries.  He understood my reasoning and said he would back that decision.  He said I wouldn't have trouble convincing the surgeon to do the hysterectomy but might have trouble with the ovaries. But he also said when I mention two second-degree relatives with cancer (my grandma died of ovarian cancer and my aunt died of breast cancer) he was pretty sure I could persuade him.

I go back in two months for those blood tests.  I promised to have a mammogram at the end of the year.  We're good to go there.  That part was easy.  But then I had my surgical consult.  Ugh.  That wasn't so easy.

Sorry to make this so long, but I want to keep this all one post.

My husband came with me.  I told him he didn't have to, but he wanted to.  In the end I was very glad he did.

We start with the basic preliminary stuff, weight, blood pressure, etc.  The doctor comes in and asks lots of questions about my discomfort and pain.  Does this activity hurt?  Does this one?  What about when you do this?  So many questions about things I hadn't ever thought of.  So far so good.

Now, I'll step out, you take off everything from the waist down, cover with the drape, and we'll do an exam.

I'm sure there are women who don't hate pelvic exams.  I'm even sure there are some who get off on it.  But for most women a pelvic exam is something we know we have to do and we just try to endure.  Just get it done quick.  Honestly, trying to be elsewhere mentally as it's happening.

A regular pelvic exam isn't usually painful.  At least for me it isn't.  Uncomfortable, to be sure.  But not painful.  This wasn't a regular pelvic exam.

This exam was more extensive (my husband later said something to the effect of the doctor being in up to his elbows).  Instead of the typical two or three minutes of poking and swabbing, it was ten or fifteen minutes of pushing and reaching and pressing internally and externally.  (There was a nurse in the room that I paid no attention to.  My husband said he looked over at her during the exam and she was squirming and looked uncomfortable and pained just watching it.)  It hurt.  A lot.  And everyone in that room knew it was hurting me a lot, even if I tried to be still and wait it out.  The doctor even apologized a couple of times when I jumped.  It wasn't too long after it started that my pain became evident and my husband came and stood beside me and held my hand.  I'm so grateful for that; it helped get me through.

Eventually the doctor had all the information he needed from the exam.  He said he would step out, I could get dressed, and then he'd come back and talk to me.

He left.  I got dressed while standing on very weakened legs.  And I cried.  It hurt so much.  More than anything but labor.  It just hurt so much.

He came in.  We talked.  He did quickly agree to the hysterectomy and balk at the ovaries.  He told me all the reasons the medical community would suggest I keep them.  I told him I'd done my research and gave him my reasons for getting rid of them.  He said he would back that decision.  He said he couldn't guarantee that the surgery would relieve my pain.  Even after all the exams it's possible my pain isn't coming from my uterus and ovaries.  But he also said women tend to have a very good sense about this and it's best to trust them on it.  (That earned him a lot of points with me.)  He said my uterine prolapse isn't as bad as the lady who examined me before had said, but it can vary from day to day depending on how much I've been on my feet.  But he also said that with the amount of pain I've had and since I'd tried pain medications and hormone treatments already with no success, even without the uterine prolapse a hysterectomy might be advised.

I need to have a bladder test to see if I am a candidate for a bladder sling (you'll have to look that up; this is too long already).  Then we will schedule my surgery.  I will have a complete hysterectomy including ovaries.  It will be performed laparoscopically (with robot assistance) and delivered vaginally.  The recovery is two to six weeks (small stuff at two weeks, full activity at six).  I will stay one night in the hospital.

The day of and day after the exam, my pain was excruciating.  So bad I had trouble walking and was brought to tears more than once.  My pain used to come and go, but I am hurting all the time now.  I am cancelling a lot of plans because I hurt too much.  I am taking pain pills to get through the most important things (like my daughter's college graduation, yay!), but then I pay a price the next day.  Rebound headache from over-the-counter pain meds is tough.  Rebound headache from prescription pain meds is awful.  So I have to be very selective about what I take and when. 

I've missed most of my son's track season.  I missed the big party for the neighborhood's seventieth birthday that I'd been anticipating for months.  I missed my friend's fiftieth birthday party.  And so many other things I wanted to attend.  I'm just so ready for this to be over.

I understand things could be tough after surgery.  I know my body will go through a shock and might not adjust well to the lack of hormones.  I know I will hurt a lot as I recover from the surgery.  But I am so ready to trade the pain and problems I have now for the ones I may have in the future.  I'm just so ready to feel like I'm on the road to recovery.

Friday, April 25, 2014

An Awfully Proud Mama

This is our oldest daughter, Jessica.  And today she graduated from Brigham Young University.


Attending her commencement and convocation exercises was amazing.  I can't even begin to describe my pride in her achievements and in the incredible young woman she is.

We don't have much money.  We live paycheck to paycheck and always have.  At times of job loss we've been on food stamps and church assistance.  My husband and I both attended some college, but neither of us finished our degrees.

Jessica loves learning.  She's so smart and works hard.  She always wanted to go to college and I've known for most of her life that we couldn't afford to send her.  I remember telling her that if she wanted to go to college, she'd need a scholarship or would have to work her way through.  Turns out she needed both.

She earned a full-tuition scholarship for four years through good grades and test scores.  Some of her abilities are genetic, to be sure.  She's a quick learner and has been blessed with a mind that works the way the school systems are set up to test.  But she also had to put forth a lot of effort.  She had to sacrifice things she wanted, which sometimes meant her social life.  But she did it.

But there was still the cost of books.  And for a time there was the cost of living away from home.  And there was the expense of her trip to Russia to teach English to young children for four months.  She paid for these things herself almost in entirety.

For the first two years of her schooling she worked a 4:00am job as a custodian.  For the next year she worked a 6:00am job as a custodian.  And near the end she finally got her dream job - doing custodial work in the evening.  (Just kidding about that being her dream job, but the timing sure was better.)  All of this to pay for her books and other things she needed, because we couldn't.  And she worked these jobs while carrying a full-time load of classes.

Everyone has their own path in life.  Not everyone will go to college, nor should they.  I don't think success is measured by whether or not a person has a degree or how much money they earn.  I don't think a person will be happier just because they have a bachelor's degree.

But what I do think will make a person happier and what does constitute success is an ability to have a dream, to want something with all their heart, and to have the drive to make it happen.

These last two days I got to see my daughter realize a dream of hers that she's worked so hard for almost all her life.  And it was an absolutely amazing experience!