Surgery Day

930 pm

I’m totally jacked up on drugs as I write this. Flying is more like it.

I was a bit late to my surgery appointment today. There was so much to do in leaving my work in a place where I could be free for a few days. And as I was grabbing my purse to leave, the phone rings and it’s a lady who would like to view the house in Whittier. She’s in her car trying to find the property and wouldn’t I be able to show it to her right now?

I telephoned by German agent gal S and gave her the lead. Gave it. She was stunned that I would do that, but I explained that because I have “an interest” in this property that I cannot ethically represent the buyer. She thanked me and then I was off yet again.

At the hospital, I checked into outpatient surgery. I had a wonderful nurse…she was friendly, took the time to really talk to me, asking me a multitude of questions about my medical history. My mom casually mentioned that she was cold, sitting next to me, and despite her protests Nurse OS dashed off to get her a heated blanked.

Surgery started about a half hour late, somewhere about 1:00. Nurse G came to see me beforehand and reassured me that she had gotten my note from the day prior asking her to double, triple, quadruple check my tubes before clipping them. She said that she would do all she could to save them and her reply was such that I immediately knew that I was in safe hands.

When I awoke, it was 3:00. I shut my eyes 15 minutes elapsed. Then another 45. It’s amazing what these pain killers can do for you. Nurse RR said that whatever it was that they shot me up with (Dilaudid?) was 10 times stronger than morphine. No wonder I slept most of the day.

According to J, Dr. G came by three separate times to tell me the outcome of the surgery. I only remember one instance, and I recall clearly her stating, “You won’t remember this conversation.” I remember bit and pieces, but I eventually go the entire story from J.

There was much more damage in there than any of us realized.

First: I didn’t have two fibroids. I had four.

All gone.

I wondered where she found the other two? Hearing that she removed them and didn’t just stick them with a cauterizing needle made me feel better about them. J mentioned to me that because of their position that if when we get pregnant we would definitely be able to do a natural childbirth. I’m not sure if that’s a huge relief for me. I was talking with GreatGoodFortune about this just three days ago and I felt then that I’d love a c-section. Why risk my bladder and pelvic floor?

But when J told me that we’d be able to do vaginal delivery it was a bit of a relief. Maybe I’m just happy because now I have a choice.

Second on the menu: My tubes were so diseased, so shot, that when she felt them with her fingers she said that there was something gritty in them. I think J said, also, that there was fluid. Hydrosalpinges after all. This is a major “smoking gun”, as Dr. Moustache would analogize, for a reason our embryos didn’t survive. Glad they’re gone if this was the case.

And get this.

I have had endometriosis.

Stunned. I never thought in a gazillion years that I’d have endo. Dr. G didn’t see the endo in the surgery in October but that was when we did a laparoscopy not a laparotomy. The latter procedure, of course allows her to see much more, move things around, etc.

So the tubes are gone. And because Dr. G took the time to really assure me that there wasn’t any means of saving them, I think I will be just fine.

There is still the mourning of my hope against hope of getting pregnant in the way that the majority of the people on the planet do. That might never go away.

But right now, it this drug induced haze I’m floating in, I feel like I will be able to cope.