St. Theophane Venard
You know that you’re starting to feel better when you start getting bored. I just hit that point around 6:30 tonight. I had been feeling a lot better than I had been. My pain was more manageable, and I almost felt sort of like I had energy. The others at home were still sunk in their afternoon naps (they’d had much more active days than I did), so no dinner was hovering on the horizon. I was feeling hungry, and like I said, bored. So I decided that I would be Useful.
Up I sprang from my invalid couch, and headed with purpose into the kitchen, ready to get dinner started. I started to bustle about like I usually do, but I had no more than tossed some ground meat in a skillet to brown before I began to realize that this was a Bad Idea. Then I reached for something without thinking, somehow managed to pull on my stitches, and suddenly I was looking around for a chair to sit down immediately. Luckily there was one within easy reach, so I sat quite still for a while until my father came in and took over stirring the meat. At that point I slowly and carefully eased my way back to the couch, and laid myself right back down again.
So, you know, this convalescence thing is taking me a bit longer than I thought. Which given how much I fretted about it beforehand, is a little surprising. I think I figured most of my worries were me being over-anxious, and really I’d have a couple of bad days, but then I’d just be a bit sore or something, and otherwise carry on with Life As Usual. Instead, here I am on my second full day of convalescence, still firmly ensconced on my parents couch, and not likely to leave it on a more than intermittent basis anytime before (maybe) this weekend. Some of it is the pain, of course, but most of it is that I have no stamina at all. Monday was mostly a blur, I slept almost all day Tuesday (seriously, I think 20 out of 24 hours), and while I feel quite proud of the fact that I haven’t had a nap yet today, still I can’t do much more than walk to the bathroom and back without needing to have a nice lie down afterwards.
Here’s the deal with my surgery. So the idea was that the doctors would go in, find out exactly what was causing all my difficulties (fibroid, ovarian tumor, or combination thereof), and do what was necessary to extract whatever it was. The doctor was fairly confident that it would be a fairly simple fibroid removal, no big, with only a slight possibility that there would be ovarian involvement, which would make things a bit more complicated. From the level of discomfort I was having, I was thinking it was a bit more than that, but I’m not a doctor, so whatev.
The only thing I really didn’t want to happen was a hysterectomy. The ER doctor had freaked me out pretty bad by even mentioning it as a possibility. My doctor seemed to think that it was only slightly maybe sortof I suppose technically a possibility, and they wouldn’t take anything they didn’t absolutely have to, and I shouldn’t worry about it. So after that talk where I told him I really didn’t want that to happen, and he said he wouldn’t, but that I shouldn’t worry about it, I did my best to be all reasonable and let it go. But it was still that nightmare hiding in the back of the closet, the thing I tried to not let myself think about.
Anyway, what happened on Monday was that everything went as planned up until the point where the doctors inserted the camera into my abdomen and got their first real good look at what was inside. That was when they discovered that the fibroid is even larger than they had expected (about 3-4″ wide, the size of the palm of your hand). Also, most fibroids hang off of whatever they’re attached to by a sort of stalk, which makes them easy to detach. Unfortunately, this one is embedded in the outer wall of my uterus. This means that in order to surgically remove it they would have to do, guess what, a hysterectomy.
Thank God, I have a doctor who listened to me when I said I did not want that at all, at all, because that’s when they called a halt to everything, pulled out, patched me up, and sent me off to recovery. So now I’m about where I was before, except with incisions and really good pain pills, and I’m going to need to go see a specialist to figure out what we’re going to do next. Whatever happens, it looks like dealing with this is going to be more of a marathon than a sprint. I have an appointment to see my doctor again next Wednesday, so we’ll know more then. In the meantime, my job is to get better as thoroughly as I can so that I’ll be ready for whatever comes next.
So that’s pretty much where I am. Right now it looks like I’m going to be staying with my parents probably at least until the weekend. There’s a possibility that, if I am a Good Girl, and in particular if I demonstrate some ability to go up and down stairs, I might get to take a field trip to my house tomorrow, just to pick up some things I’ve been wanting, and to make sure it hasn’t burnt down or something in my absence. So we’ll see how that goes. I’ll let you know.