A little back story about my medical adventure. A year or two ago I started to rapidly gain weight without making any major diet changes. I thought it was most likely the joys of growing older, and that maybe I needed to focus more on what I was eating but when I would focus on my eating for a few months, I noticed that I still continued to put on weight aka not the desired result.
I figured there was an underlying issue there, but since I lived in the Good Ol' US of A, and even with medical insurance a doctors visit cost me a couple of hundred dollars, I decided to learn to love the chub, and keep it moving irregular periods, abdomen pain and all. Not Advised.
Flash forward to a few months ago when I relocated home to Australia and within a week of landing I was sat at the Dr describing my symptoms. We did bloodwork to check my thyroid and a various combination of things which came back clean as a whistle, and I was told to go and get an ultrasound. Not so clean, far less whistley. The day after my ultrasound I received a message from my Dr asking me to come in and see him that day. The whole "No News is Good News" isn't so comforting when the news is coming hard and fast!
It turned out I had two sizeable ovarian cysts taking up residency within me. My largest almost 14 centimetres/6 inches simple yet taking up my entire ovary, and the other complex and more scary looking to the Doc.
Love that for me.
Over the next few weeks I met with specialists, did a CT scan, a pelvic exam (with not one gynecologist, but 2 additional attractive medical students watching on....a real life highlight) and booked in an appointment to take those bad boys out!
Although public healthcare is affordable in Australia (These copious appointments scans, pokes, prods and eventual surgery cost me a total of $25 all up without private healthcare! Take that America!) it means that if not life threatening you must wait a little longer for a surgery, so I was listed as Category 2 and booked in for surgery within 90 days.
While booking my surgery they informed me they were aiming for a "laparoscopic bilateral ovarian cystectomy" but due to the size of the complex cyst they thought it likely they would need to make a larger cut across my entire abdomen (The "Full Yum Cha" as I randomly started referring to it one day) and potentially remove one or both of my ovaries. The Dr very reassuringly told me he wouldn't know what would happen until he opened me up, we were flying blind people! How long should I take off work for recovery? Will I be unable to have my own children? Literally who knows, just guess!
During the weeks leading up to my surgery I could often be found with a hot water bottle attractively tucked into my waistband, cursing my ovarian children. One day in particular I felt a stabbing pain rip through my abdomen, a pain not dissimilar to a UTI which I used to encounter quite frequently....so fun. I jumped into action, throwing myself into a scolding hot tub fully clothed and calling my Mum. After a few excruciating hours and a quick Dr visit to check my cyst didn't rupture (she assured me it didn't without laying a finger on me...trust me...I would apparently know!) I felt fighting fit.
Flash forward to this morning.
My appointment was scheduled for 6:30am, so for a third time in as many months my Dad and I had a Daddy-Daughter Gynecologist date! After an hour or two of paperwork, sitting in a robe and heated blanket watching the same news update about Harry and Meghan ditching royal tradition on repeat and a quick brief with my anesthesiologist. I was ready for...well..whatever was about to happen...because again...we are flying blind here! After installing my drip, shuffling me onto the operating table and informing me they would be shoving tubes down my neck and instruments into my vageen (TMI, but this is real life folks), I was huffing and puffing my way to dream land.
After waking up what felt like moments later, in a drunken haze I yelled to a nearby lady in scrubs,
DID I KEEP MY OVARIES?
She laughed at me, apparently she had no connection to my operation but thankfully the lady directly to my right I didn't even see, did know.
Yes, ovaries are still very much intact, and your cyst was removed laparoscopically with only four small cuts and minimal healing time.
The ideal solution....but wait...did she say cyst? As in singular?
I paused.
They left one?
No kids, my big bopper, 6 inch oldest child...had left home early.
That sharp pain that I winced my way through was most likely it's rupture and I'm just a tough ass bitch.
I would be lying if I said I wouldn't be pushing for another ultrasound or CT scan to verify this during my follow up appointment next week, but for today...I'll take it!
After two short hours, a sip of water, half a sandwich and bleeding through two diaper sized pads (Hi, you are welcome) it was time to drunkenly wander through the hospital in my compression socks and no shoes while my Dad whistled "When I'm 64" by The Beatles (Side note: It was his 64th birthday today and he celebrated by listening to that song on repeat to and from the hospital and spending 4 hours sitting in the car playing Sudoku and watching The Bourne Supremacy before eaves dropping on Dr gossip in a hospital cafeteria, a legend).
I slipped my shoes on over my knee high compression socks to walk across the carpark, this is Fashion.
Once back at home, I spent my afternoon watching Forrest Gump (literally twice...back to back...my favourite movie), eating my favourite snacks provided for me by my brother and his girlfriend who came to babysit me in my post-anesthesia daze and insisting on taking out the trash so I can get my post surgery steps in.
Coming through with the good-goods.
Minus the fact I'm rocking a PM diaper and I'm unable to remove my compression socks, I actually feeling top notch, fertile and fighting fit.
Can not bend at waist. Must stay compressed forever.
The moral of the story here is take care of yourself, go the Dr every once in awhile and don't stress yourself out focusing on the worst case scenarios when sometimes things are a lot simpler than they appear!
Diaper Gang.
Harrah for Modern Medicine.
P.S. Fashion Icon, Happy Queen, Double Chin Goddess.
