Race Against Time

I’m in a race against time. It’s two weeks since my surgery and I’m trying to stem for eggs because the fibroids and endometriosis are already trying to take over AGAIN.

I’ve been taking fertility drugs for the last four days. Today I went in for an ultrasound and things are not looking well at all. A new endometrioma is forming and there’s a large cyst on my right ovary. I’m currently waiting on my doctor to tell me if I should stop stemming now. 

Per usual, I’m so very hurt, but we knew this was a shot in the dark, my real last chance. The trifecta of rapidly aging ovaries, fibroids and endometriosis is too hard to beat at the age of 35.

What Will They Take Next?

I’m pretty sure there’s a doctor out there with jars of my lady parts on his trophy shelf. Picture pickled fibroids, fallopian tubes and cysts. I figure he’s like a hunter always looking to add to the display.

I had my latest surgery just about a week ago. I went in with the most negative and nasty state of mind you can imagine. It’s the worst I’ve ever felt mentally before a surgery (this was my fourth, so I am a surgery veteran). Here’s the crazy thing: when I woke up after the surgery, I felt the best I’d ever felt post-op. Maybe the drugs were better?

This was indeed my least invasive surgery. My uterus is a normal size, there were no massive fibroids complicating the situation, and I truly believe my increased water intake helped make this particular operation easier on my body than the others.

So what did they take, you ask? The Doc and his gang of understudies removed my right fallopian tube, which was dilated, and the endometrioma blocking my left ovary.

What’s next? My surgeon and RE agreed I should take Lupron to put my body in a medically induced state of menopause. The goal is to keep the fibroids and endometriosis at bay, until we can figure out if we want to try to use this bionic uterus to grow some donor-egg-assisted embryos someday.

Money is definitely an issue. I’m still paying off the loan from my first IVF. I’d give anything to have those healthy embryos back. I should have waited to transfer them after removing fibroids, but I didn’t want to have another surgery. My stubbornness cost me big time. Oh well. All I can do is march forward now.

I’m really grateful that I came out of this surgery all right. I attribute the outcome to prayer. I asked people to pray for me and they did. I’m thankful, so I won’t complain.

I am often wondering what the surgeon will try to take out of my body next.  He’s totally obsessed with me. Totally. (I’m just kidding by the way).

Good Bye, Mrs. Right?

What the fuck? I’m starting to think my infertility is just a way for doctor’s to siphon away all of my damn girlie organs. I went in today for a pre-surgery appointment to discuss the removal an endometrioma, which has set up shop right outside my left ovary. During the course of conversation (if that’s what you want to call it), the surgeon’s assistant said something like this:

“The MRI showed that your right tube is filled with some type of bad liquid.  We should just remove it, if it’s okay with your RE. You’ll need to sign a form saying you understand that it will render you sterile," said the evil assistant.

What? WHat? WHAt? WHAT?!?!?!?!?

I told her I could not sign a document like that today. I know that I am basically sterile, but to give someone permission to make me OFFICIALLY sterile (I already don’t have a left tube), is not my idea of awesome. I immediately emailed the Witch Doctor, aka my RE. Do you want to know what she said?  She advised that I let them take my tube. I broke.

It’s like my wall of strength totally shattered. I could not hold myself together. I went to the bathroom to suck back tears, but it didn’t work for long. I had to abandon my husband and go to the car to cry. Poor fella had to pick up my doctor’s note explaining to my job that I’ll need a THIRD SURGERY IN 12 MONTHS.

I’m a complete emotional disaster. DISASTER. I called my boss, who I hate, in tears. He is the one person who I do NOT want to show any morsel of weakness, but I couldn’t go to work with a tear-stained face, swollen eyes, and on the edge of crying over any and everything.

The conversation from the doctor’s office kept playing over and over in my head. 

“Have you thought about having children naturally? That’s the problem with hormone treatments, they make your endometriosis grow,” said the bitch of an assistant who for some reason thought I was undergoing all of this shit out of choice.

I had just gotten over thinking that God hates me. I mean LITERALLY JUST gotten over it, after three years. Then this happens. I know I can come off as cavalier in doctors’ offices, but that’s because I’m trying to keep my soul above water. I guess it backfired because this lady apparently thought I went to an RE for fun.

I turn 35 in two days. My family comes into town tomorrow. I have a birthday party in three days. Somehow I have to turn on the charm and behave like I am ok. I’ll do it too. There’s one thing this has all taught me: the world won’t stop over my troubles. No one cares a single bit, and that’s okay because I don’t care about their problems either. It’s just the way the world works.