Today, I had a pre-op appointment with my infertility specialist.
For those interested in the medical terminology: I am scheduled for an abdominal laparotomy, bilateral salpinjectomy, and an ovarian cystectomy. For the rest of us, the translation is as follows: via an incision in my lower abdomen (about the size of a cesarean section), he will remove both my fallopian tubes and excise cysts on my ovaries.
Today’s pelvic ultrasound revealed some improvement in my condition. Although the doctor won’t say that it’s inexplicable, he did use the word “unusual.” I don’t know whether it was the birth control pills or prayer (I’ll attribute it to the latter), but he noticed some shrinkage in the growths first noted in my laparoscopy and later ultrasounds. As a result, he seemed more hopeful about the procedure. Initially, he thought they were large endometriomas, but now he thinks they may actually be cysts, in which case, I wouldn’t have to endure the 4-6 months of hormone therapy (depot lupron) post-surgery. Even better news: if this is true, we may be able to start the IVF process as early as two months from now.
More good news: Hubby’s swimmers checked out just fine. Looks like the problem is just with me and my broken fallopian tubes.
Of course, tests, tests and more tests ensued. The nurse took my blood pressure and asked me if I normally have high blood pressure. The digital readout indicated 140/99. Holy mackerel. My blood pressure is usually low. I can see how anxiety and stress can wreak havoc on one’s system. At the end of the visit, she re-tested me. 144/92. Not much better. After receiving the bad news about my elevated cholesterol and triglyceride levels, I was beginning to wonder if my blood pressure had also decided to join the club. I’ll have to get that checked again when all of this is over.
Enduring a typical doctor’s appointment is enough to give anyone high blood pressure: being subjected to a pelvic ultrasound, forcing out a urine sample after emptying my bladder just 5 minutes before, giving 3 vials of my lifeblood, and signing all the consent forms peppered with words like “complications” and “death.” Oy.
I was also given instructions to prepare me for Friday’s procedure. Most unpleasant of which is chugging a whole bottle of magnesium citrate to purge my stomach, then a clear liquid diet for dinner. (I guess that means I’ll have to take Thursday off, since I’ll probably be spending most of it on the toilet.) Maybe even worse than the laxatives is not being able to ingest anything after midnight — that includes water. My procedure isn’t scheduled until noon the next day, which means I’ll be without food or water for a minimum of 12 hours. I know this is standard procedure, but just the thought of having absolutely no liquid for more than half a day scares the bejeebers out of me.
Oh, and did I mention? The doc says expect to spend 3-4 days in the hospital. Grr. I hope I get a private room.
Tomorrow is my last day at work for the next four weeks. Unfortunately, it won’t be spent doing something fun like traveling across Japan. I guess I’ll have to spend my days watching the travel channel and enjoying life vicariously for now.
P.S.
I’m not ashamed to ask for your prayers. So, if you’re inclined, please remember me on Friday. I’d really appreciate it!
