And I don’t know where to begin

So I bit he bullet there six weeks or so ago and went in for the hysteroscopy and ultrasounds. I was so tempted to put it off, partly because I didn’t want to hear any more potential bad news, and partly because I knew from the last disastrous attempt when I lived in London that hysteroscopies really hurt. There’s no way around that fact really, no point in sugar coating it.

First up was the ultrasound, with a lovely tech. I made a bags of going in with a full bladder, drank a heap at work, got as far as home before going into the hospital (I live just around the corner from the hospital) and had to go to the loo. Anyway, the technician had a good poke around with the internal scanner probe thingy (I was so horrified the first time I had one of these internal scans, not a bother on me parting my knees for it now, after nearly three years of gynecological pokings). My uterus is now a funny shape, after the surgery, so she couldn’t tell if the coil was out of position or not. She bemoaned the lack of a 3D scanner, but that’s public service healthcare in Ireland for you. She saw one ovary and it looked grand. The other one wasn’t to be seen because of the weird shape of my uterus, but I’m just presuming it’s okay in there.

The good news was that she couldn’t see any new fibroids growing though. No. New. Fibroids. Read those words and weep with joy. That does come with the caveat of the two 1cm fibroids that were removed last year not being visible on an ultrasound though. Still, I look at the 1cm marker on the ruler in front of me here on my desk and  think that that’s pretty tiny.

Home for a quick faceful of lunch and pre-emptive painkillers and back for the dreaded hysteroscopy. Lovely Dr. Fiona was on duty again, and she is just sound. A quick chat and then into the torture chair. I’ll leave you to google the exact ins and outs of a hysteroscopy, but halfway through it I was flat on my back, a nurse holding my hand, trying not to pass out. Eventually the pesky coil was located and retrieved and I came round.

So the result of this latest poking and prodding is that I don’t have to go back to the hospital for the forseeable future. Which is just fantastic! I’ll see how my periods are for the next few months, and hopefully they’ll just be normal now that the coil is gone. I don’t think I’ve ever had ‘normal’ periods.

However, this all-clear does now present questions about The Future, and what I might now let grow in my uterus now that there are no tumours taking up all the room. And those are questions that I just don’t have the answers to yet.

One year on

I’d like to think that I have taken a few life lessons from the last year or so. Who knows, maybe some of this would have come with age and experience anyway.

I’d like to think I’m a little more patient, a little kinder and a little more relaxed than I used to be. Sharing a ward with seven other beds, occupied by many women over the week I was in hospital. Women who had miscarriages, ectopic pregnancies, hysterectomies, many other gynaecology-related issues. All of these women dealt with whatever life had thrown them with grace and dignity, and I still think of the strength that each of them displayed. It’s made me more patient and less frustrated in general day-to-day life, dealing with other people. You just never know what people’s stories are. 

Follow-up

So we went back to the hospital today for a follow up. Dr D didn’t see us but instead his lovely resident Fiona. She was great, she was a lot more gentle with the ‘do you think you want a child yet’ question, and agreed that an ultrasound to see if there’s any regrowth would be a good thing. She did say that it won’t pick up on everything that might be growing there, but it will be a good indication, and it’ll mean that we can make informed decisions on the future.

I’ve also decided to get the coil removed – it’s been in there for just over three years, and will have to come out pretty soon anyway. It’s also in slightly the wrong place and it’s a little uncomfortable. It turns out, after much rummaging by the doctor, that the strings aren’t where they should be, and the doctor couldn’t get the coil out today. The nurse kept passing over tools to the doctor that seemed longer and longer, and none of them did the job! So I’ll have to come back in for a hysteroscopy (yuck), but they’ll do the ultrasounds the same day, which is great.

Roll on the end of July for those appointments… and hopefully I’ll be receiving more good news.

11 months on

I just glanced at the clock on my desktop computer and realised it’s eleven months to the day since I had the myomectomy. So this time eleven months ago I was flat out in a hospital bed with a morphine pump and an oxygen mask, probably asleep and to be quite honest, hemorrhaging really unpleasantly. And today I’m at work, on the clear side of my first 5k run since the surgery last Saturday, happy and healthy.

After the surgery I made all kinds of promises to myself about the changes that I was going to make in my life, to eat better, exercise more, generally be more Mother Teresa like etc – basically, completely ridiculous life goals! I’ve mostly gone back to being the same person I was with fibroids, albeit slightly lighter and I hope, a little kinder and more patient. I hope I don’t worry about the little things as much as I used to too.

I have a check up in the hospital with the lovely Dr D on Thursday. I’m hoping to get an ultrasound to check that there’s no regrowth yet. Fingers crossed…

Signed off

It’s been a while since I dropped in here, but everything has been going well for the last few months, thankfully. There have been a few hiccups along the way, but mostly I’ve been focussing on the positive and concentrating on the present. The stress that built up before Christmas has stayed away, and I’ve managed to keep the worry about my fertility at bay (mostly). But I can honestly say that I haven’t shed any fertility-rated tears since Christmas.

Just before Christmas I went back to my GP for some more tests. I hadn’t had a period since before the surgery so alarm bells were ringing a little, though I have a coil. The letters PCOS were mentioned briefly as he took the blood, but thankfully this turned out to not be the case. The coil is just doing its job properly for the first time in three years. All my hormone levels came back pointing to me having a normal cycle, but I’m just not having a bleed now because of the coil. After 18 years of torture and anaemia with periods, I think I deserve a break!

On a practical level, I’m physically stronger now. Swimming has come along really nicely, from only being able to swim four lengths to being able to push out twenty. The first time I tried that my whole belly swelled up, I got really bad cramps and completely knackered myself, but I’ve hit that mark again since and been fine. I went back to running for a week, hurt my back and was off the road again, but the physio has given me the thumbs up to go back slowly again. The physio actually signed me off completely when I saw him yesterday! That’s nearly the last point in my checklist on the road to recovery, and really makes me feel like I’m nearly back to myself again. Who knew a myomectomy would take so long to recover from?!

Two short term points remain on my mental recovery checklist: run a 5k and see the surgeon again. I’m planning to be able to run a 5k in May, all going to plan, and I have an appointment to see the surgeon again in the summer. This is just a check in appointment, so he can see what has changed since the last time he saw me in terms of our baby plans, and advise accordingly. Nothing much has changed, nor is likely to in the next few months -my partner caring for his terminally ill mother has to take priority right now. So I may push that appointment out just to spare myself a lecture. I know he means well, but at the end of the day he cares far more about my fertility than the rest of my life, so his priority will always be for me to get pregnant asap. As I’ve said before here many times, he is a lovely man who gives so much to his patients, and I’d rather keep that relationship with him than have an argument about why I can’t have a baby right now.

The days are getting brighter, the daffodils are coming out, and Spring is slowly emerging from its chrysalis. I hope I can do the same.

Minding my mind

A lot of the good things I took away from the lectures in the hospital in September have long since been forgotten I’m afraid. Some bad habits have crept back into my diet, and as I’m not allowed to run yet I’ve been using this as an excuse to not do a huge amount of exercise. I have started swimming and Pilates but I’m not doing as much as I could. It’s time to stop and take stock again.
The stress levels have built up quite a bit again, to the point where I’m grinding my teeth so much at night that I cracked the nightguard I wear. My poor dentist ended up getting a mini meltdown from me when I went to get a new one. He has suggested some good ways of trying to get my stress levels down, including not having any screens on in the evenings, and doing something creative before bed to try to switch the logical thinking part of my brain off a bit. It’s been a week since I started this and it’s only tonight, curled up in the sofa with tea, a blanket and a book that I’m finally feeling the benefit. I know I technically shouldn’t be writing this post either… but it’s good to get things off my chest.
The main reasons I’m stressing myself so much are still to do with the myomectomy, and the impact it will have in my fertility. We’re just not in a position to have a baby right now but I’m fretting constantly that I’m going to end up leaving it too late. I want to be perfect and want my body to be perfect but I need to give myself a break from that much pressure. I’d be much better appreciating my health for what it is right now-better than it has been, and improving all the while. Helping it to improve is under my control, and I should just concentrate on that for now.
Physically, I’m so much better. Pilates is brilliant for helping my core get stronger, and swimming is great too-though I’m being lapped by senior citizens in the pool at work at lunchtime! I tried to race one last week and failed miserably. Still, it’s a good start. The physio is happy with how things are going too,and apart from one or two things that still cause pain, I’m feeling much stronger. I’m hoping he’ll let me return to running soon.

A friend of a friend had a myomectomy last week, and I’d been emailing her in the run up to her surgery. She had lots of questions, and didn’t really know anyone who’d had this surgery. Not that I’m an expert by a long shot, but I was very grateful to have a friend who’d been through it about the surgery before mine too. I didn’t tell her all the gorey horrendousness of the first couple of days after the surgery, but it made me remember how horrible it was – and if I got through that I can definitely get through anything now. That first time of trying to get out of bed was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and I’ll have to keep that in mind next time I run a 5km or half marathon race!

This is all very rambly. But I’m feeling a lot better having gotten these thoughts out of my head.

The long(er) run

Heading off on holidays at the start of October was a great idea. Nearly two weeks away from everything completely cleared my head, cheered me up and destressed me so much. I don’t think I realised I was so stressed til I came back home, and realised I wasn’t thinking about surgery or recovery every minute of every day. That was probably the first time I didn’t google ‘myomectomy and…’ at least once a day every day, depending on what I was worried about that day.

On the recovery front, I’m allowed to start Pilates this week. and I can’t wait for that. I had a swim last week too, and I definitely need to do more of that – I’m so unfit now! That’s really frustrating having been very fit before the surgery. I’ll get there again though I hope. I still have a belly on me – that’s driving me crazy. I think I’m still a bit swollen, but I’m hoping that getting active again will reduce this.

I must write up some more about the sessions in the fertility clinic at the start of October too. The nutrition and fitness parts of the morning were fantastic, and I want to make sure I’m still actively thinking about what both had to say.

I’m feeling better… roll on Christmas.

Tolerance for silence

Saturday morning was a morning well spent. I walked the short distance up to number 60, and as I came up the street I could see a few people go through the door ahead of me. Another lady held the door open for me and we walked up the stairs, making small talk about our coffee cups. It’s hard to know what to a stranger when you know you’re both in the same place for the same reason. Some more couples and solo people like me were queueing at the registration desk ahead, not really knowing where to look.

While the nurses tried to get blood from me last week, one mentioned that the fertility clinic next door was holding a seminar that weekend that might be of use to me. We had been chatting about the mental strain of having gynaecological issues, and one of the sessions was due to be on mindfulness. My head has been a bit of a mess, to be honest. I felt a million times better after getting the all-clear from Dr D, but I thought getting some tools to help myself each day would help.
On the day of the seminar I had planned on slipping into the back of the lecture theatre, but I hadn’t realised that someone I knew was speaking about exercise at the seminar also. No matter, as she knew I’d had surgery, and has been really kind and supportive. It was nice to see a friendly face too.
The mindfulness speaker was just brilliant. Sometimes I think this subject can be a bit inaccessible, but this speaker was on my level and spoke plainly. As well as spelling out what dysfunctional behaviour looks like (extremes of too much or too little food/sleep/exercise), he spoke about building resilience in ourselves. I definitely recognised bits of myself in both of these. I would like to think that I’m a resilient person, but I think I’m probably too tough on myself, and I probably need to be a little more self-confident, and give myself a break!
The thing that really stuck with me was ‘tolerance for silence’. I do not have a tolerance for silence at all. I listen to the radio or music constantly when I’m alone, partly because I really like music, and it’s what I do for a living, but also because I don’t like silence. The speaker demonstrated a great and simple way to do some meditation, which I’ve been trying out since. Basically, you sit in a quiet place, close your eyes and try to identify noises. Once you’ve found two, search for a third, and then a fourth. It’s so simple, but helps calm the noise in my head very effectively. I definitely need to work at this, and at enjoying silence.

The kindness of (relative) strangers

Today was my six-week hospital check with the surgeon. It happened 11 weeks after the surgery thanks to lack of appointments in the hospital, but it worked out better for me I think. Some symptoms only settled in the last week, so I think I would have had to come back to see him again anyway.
Dr D is one of the kindest doctors I’ve ever met. Every time I meet him I’m amazed at his ability to make me feel like I’m his only patient, and to put my mind at ease. Today he called me from the waiting room and welcomed me into the consultation room. We had a chat about how I’d been since the surgery, and I explained how the bleeding had been, and my confusion about my cycle. He thinks this will settle, but it’s hard to know when. He reviewed what had been done in the surgery, and checked the histology report again to assure me there was nothing nasty there.
Dr D had me hop up on the bed and took a look at the wound. I don’t heal very well and this scar is no exception, it’s going a bit thick and raised already (this is called keloid scar, apparently) but there’s nothing I can do about that. I’m still a little bruised and tender, and Dr D did say that this surgery does ‘serious insult’ to the uterus, is I think how he put it. It will take a while to recover. He said I’m very young to have had this surgery, and to have had such big fibroids.
Once he’d had a poke about (no internal, phew!) we sat down and talked about The Future.
One of the main things that I’ve been losing sleep over since the surgery is time, or lack of it. I’ve felt that by having the surgery I’ve let off a ticking time bomb inside myself, and that I now have a very limited window in which to have a family. Talking to Dr D today about this really helped with these worries, and I felt as though a weight was lifted off me. I asked him if the fibroids would have started to grow back already and he said no. He has advised that any pregnancies I have will need to be delivered via c-section, which is fine. He said that my fertility now is much better than it was before the surgery, and even if I do have a few small fibroids, they shouldn’t impact a pregnancy. He only advises a myomectomy if a) you can’t get pregnant because they’re so bad or b) they’re ruining your life, like me.
I still have a coil, and this will obviously need to come out. Dr D had said that the strings on it aren’t in the right place in me, so having it removed will be something he’ll need to do in the clinic, rather than my GP do it. I explained mine and my boyfriend’s current situation and plans for the future, and he agreed that our loose plan is fine. Roughly, I’d like leave the coil in for another six months to a year, and then have it out. My boyfriend’a mother is terminally ill and it’s not realistic for us to even think about a family at the moment.
So I’ve to go back to the hospital in nine months, and we will talk about this again then.
Before I left, I asked Dr D that if I do have babies, whether he could be my obstetrician. He seemed delighted to be asked this!
Dr D walked me to the blood test room, shook my hand and wished me all the best. What a gent. The nurse taking my blood practically swooned at him, he seems to have a fan club. She said there were no words to describe his kindness and I have to agree.

It took six (six!) attempts to take blood, but eventually an obliging vein was found. A lovely nurse called me later to say that my iron levels were perfect. Go me and my super bone marrow! I’m fine to do anything I like now, and that’s starting with a serious holiday in two weeks. I just have to wear my super-sexy surgical stockings on the plane!

Babies are everywhere

Everyone is pregnant. Well, it just seems like everyone is pregnant. In a group of six girls this morning, four out of six were expecting, and I am absolutely delighted for each of them. My colleague’s wife is pregnant after many miscarriages, and my boss’s wife is pregnant after IVF. Another colleague is on maternity leave and another is just back from maternity leave. Each person I know that’s expecting have their own stories and struggles behind them, and I’m so happy that each of them have had a happy ending! I will very happily sit and chat about kegel exercises, and I love visiting and cuddling newborns.

But. The constant reminder is sending me a little crazy. I know I’m not in a position to get pregnant at the moment, and I am fine with just working on my recovery for now. I do want to enjoy having some time being ‘normal’, and enjoying having my body back to myself with nothing strange growing inside me – fibroid or baby! So why can’t I stop thinking about pregnancy? Living around the corner from a maternity hospital makes it a little harder than it needs to be – there are bumps roaming the streets round here during the week. I get so annoyed when I see women huddled outside the hospital in dressing gowns and with huge bumps, pulling away on cigarettes. I just want to knock them from their hands and tell each of them how lucky they should feel to be there instead of making things harder for themselves.

We’ve had a few chats about all this at home recently, and I think it’s a conversation we’ll be having quite a bit. Nothing really seems to get solved or decided on, and it’s not like we can do much about the situation at the moment other than just let me recover, and get on with our lives in other ways, and have lots of fun at the same time. My boyfriend’s mother is terminally ill with an awful illness, which complicates priorities too.

I sound quite negative above, but I’m mostly in a good headspace at the moment (though if I could stuff my fingers in my ears at babytalk time, I happily would). We’re planning a holiday, I’ve had some lovely days and nights out with friends recently, I’m feeling better and better each week.