August 17, 2012

Hospital(ity)

A week ago I honestly wasn't sure if I would ever see August 17th, 2012.
August 15th, 2012

 This was mostly a result of my morbid thought tendencies and a little to do with a thing called WebMD (seriously, just don't do it). I was scheduled to go into surgery at 7:30am on August 16th to have 3 & 4cm cysts removed from inside my ovaries that had developed over the past several months. I began feeling dull cramping and periodic intense pain at the end of last year, and after a few ultrasounds and blood tests, the doctor's didn't know why these cysts had formed or what they were made of. With a history of cancer in both my parents and a laundry list of other medical issues, I was convinced I was going to either die on the operating table or be diagnosed with ovarian cancer at the ripe age of 25. 

Fortunately, neither occurred and instead I had a 2 hour laparoscopic bilateral ovarian cystectomy: the doctors were basically able to inflate my stomach, open up my ovaries, and remove the cyst tissue from inside of them, then close me back up and send me home a few hours later with a bottle of pain meds. 
Apparently, 98% of fertile women have "simple" fluid cysts that come and go each month on their own- if they do not go away or are painful, they are likely caused by endometriosis or foreign objects and will need to be removed by surgery or they can damage ovarian tissue. Normal ovaries are the size of a walnut... mine were larger than chicken eggs. So instead of those ugly ol' cysts, I have three tiny incisions that should heal over the next week and peace of mind that those things are out for good. If the biopsy reveals they are endometriomas, I can opt for a series of injections to keep them from re-forming in the future, or at least until we are done birthin' some babies.

The worst part of this whole process was the waiting and unknown. Even for the few hours before the surgery I was nervous and anxious, just wanting it to be over with. Before I was wheeled out of the pre-op room, I was given some happy juice, but my sweet husband probably needed it more than I did- his teary-eyed face was the last thing I remember seeing before the gas cup went over my nose.  When I woke up, he came into the room and was smiling ear to ear- the first thing I said was "I'm ALIVE!" and we both laughed.

 I am just thankful this is all over- nothing like a pending surgery to help one get their priorities straight. It definitely changed my outlook on everyday life, trying to not take things for granted. Like having the best team of two and four-legged caretakers tending to my every need, a lovely mix of Percocet and laxatives, and a decent supply of 2-inch thick pads and fancy mesh hip-huggers to help me maintain my post-surgical sex appeal. 

I should be back and at 'em in a week or so. Until then I'll have to suffice with HGTV, trashy magazines, Pinterest, and lengthy naps. 
Rough life. 

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