I’m happy to say that my hysteroscopy is in the books. Done, done, and done. And lo! I’m still alive!
The night before, I received a call from my doctor’s office that there had been a cancellation. It is the hospital’s policy that all surgeries move up accordingly. So instead of a 9:00 hysteroscopy, I was moved up to 7:40. I successfully avoided panic.
I will admit there was a part of me that believed that this might be my last day on earth. So I tried to enjoy life a little on Thursday. I went to my favorite place for lunch, ordered cake and a latte. For dinner, I ate my favorite kale salad and watched “Scandal.” I sneaked a note into Mr. O’s sock drawer just telling him how much I love him. You know… just in case I DIED. (I’ve officially accepted that I am crazy. For now, anyway.)
The next morning went really well. Since it was so early, the traffic was non existent. We got the hospital in plenty of time. This place is like the freakin’ Taj Mahal of hospitals. When they took our name, we got a beeper (like what you get at Olive Garden.) It buzzed, we were escorted upstairs to the pre-op room. On the way, Mr. O was informed that there were many things to keep him entertained while he waited for me, including an onsite gym. (REALLY? Yes, really.)
Mr. O was stellar. He helped keep me calm and made me laugh. I had a momentary freak out when they put the hospital gown on the bed- it had the same pattern of the ones my mom has been wearing in the ICU for the last 10 months. I took a deep breath, and put it on.
All the nurses were wonderful. They introduced themselves to me and Mr. O and explained the role that they’d play during the procedure. My anesthesiologist was awesome- she explained everything that would happen during the procedure.
Finally, Dr. Petrel arrived. Have I mentioned that she reminds me of my mom, if my mom were a straight-talking RE? I just felt so much more relaxed once she was there. Petrel also explained the procedure, how I’d feel afterwards, and when our post op appointment would be.
The last thing I remembered was moving myself onto the operating table in the OR. And then I woke up. The rest of day was a bit of a blur. I don’t remember talking with Dr. Petrel, but she apparently called Mr. O and explained what happened. There were not one, not two, but THREE polyps up in there. She removed them all and thinks that my uterus looks beautiful. “We are setting the stage nicely,” she told Mr. O.
Once at home, I drifted in and out of sleep for most of the morning. I was still in some pain and experiencing some light bleeding. My appetite was low. Mr. O took excellent care of me, making lunch and dinner, and running to the store for Tylenol.
I committed myself to bed for the rest of the day. Since I knew I’d be immobile, I set myself up with The Roosevelts. What better way to recuperate than with the help of a Ken Burns documentary?! #nerdalert
This is honestly a terrific documentary. It’s a bit more “History Channel” than most of Burns’ documentaries, but the subjects are totally fascinating. Like normal human beings, they faced a shit ton of obstacles. How they survived and overcame them is also what made them. As you probably know, FDR had polio which he struggled with for the remainder of his life. A nurse once told him Polio was the storm, and he was what remained.
Maybe it was all the drugs or my overall heighten emotional state, but that’s how I think IF is. I don’t believe in the adage “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” Nope, sometimes what doesn’t kill you can gut you. IF is the storm. It sucks. It will leave a mark– has left its mark on me. But at the end of this something will remain. I have to work on what that something is.
Now, I don’t think that this will make me president. In fact, I would settle for a totally benign life at this point. Please, bless me with a sleepy life with my darling little family. Leave all that trial by fire shit for something else, will you?
But then I remember that I’m already here. In the middle of the storm. The only way out is through.