So I’m Having Surgery Tomorrow, No Big Deal

I’m having a laparoscopy for endo tomorrow. It’s my second one. The first one was 6.5 years ago in January 2007. It’s time. I have been having increased pain for about a year now, the kind the lasts for weeks and requires lots of Ibuprofen just to take the edge off.  I finally went to the doctor and as I suspected, I have a cyst on my right ovary. My right side is the troublesome side. What I didn’t expect is that I have an even larger cyst on my left ovary.  Unlike the right side, the left side is very quiet. That’s the freaky thing about endo: you cannot ascertain severity based on pain level.  Of course, the cysts could be the tip of the endo iceberg, so the doctor decided another lap was warranted and then we can manage the endo through hormones until menopause.  It’s my own fault. I had enjoyed not being on any hormones after IVF for our surrogacy cycle 5 years ago this month (!). The downside was that no medication meant that I essentially gave endo a permission slip to cause trouble.

I had been fairly nonchalant about my upcoming surgery. I’d had a prior lap, so the procedure wasn’t a mystery. My first lap had been for diagnostic purposes, so in addition to the physical recovery, I had the emotional fall-out of coming to terms with the grab-bag of problems that had been discovered.  This time is different. It is for pain management for me and quality of life instead of preparing for more fertility treatment. Plus, we have Daniel now. In 2007, we received real answers on what was going on with me as well as acknowledging that our journey was going to be even harder than we ever anticipated. This time, I’m approaching my lap knowing that my treatment days are over. We have 5 frozen embryos and no plans for further treatment.  I shrugged and told everyone it was no big deal. I’ll get up on Wednesday, have the lap, come home and sleep the rest of the week.

And then the anxiety started to set in. A lot of it has revolved around Daniel. He will be spending the rest of the week w/ MIL, who will take him to and from school and try to preserve his routine. I have uniforms to pack, regular clothes to pack, books, toys and a billion starfish to pack, and instructions to write about schedules and lunches. He also had a teacher workday on Monday, so the routine was already disrupted for the week. We’ve been talking to him about the lap and what’s going to happen this week, and he has been asking questions about it, and I’m worried about being away from him and him being away from us.  It doesn’t help that the routine upsets and what I think is his worry have led to a very rough Monday evening and Tuesday morning with him. I feel horrible and guilty that we aren’t able to assuage what I think is his fear as well as the fact that he’s being unreasonable and well, FOUR, which is driving us up the wall, which then makes me feel even worse because I don’t want our short time together this week to be full of tears, yelling and grumpiness.

And then I worry about the lap itself. What will they find? Am I in worse shape than any of us thought? Jimmy and I’ve had the pleasant “If, then” conversation about a few different scenarios so he can make an informed decision. I can’t have anything to drink or eat after midnight tonight, and I’m already feeling thirsty in anticipation of not being able to have any water. My brain has dusted off the memories from my first lap, and I remember the shoulder pain from the CO2, the pain I felt after I woke up, the scratchiness from the tube down my throat, the worst pain that always seemed to hit in the middle of the night and left me writhing in agony because I couldn’t get the dosage on the pain meds correct.

Inhale. Exhale. Chances are that everything will go as expected. Daniel will have a great time w/ MIL and come home full of piss, vinegar and sass. My job is to rest, take it easy and maybe, just maybe, begin reading Game of Thrones.

We check in at 9:30 tomorrow, if you could spare a thought around 11:30, I’d be very grateful.

 

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13 comments

  1. Good luck tomorrow!

    I fear I’m heading down this same road soon. I’ve been on heavy-duty suppression for the past 2 years, and am having some breakthrough endo symptoms. Last time suppression worked for just over 2 years before it failed spectacularly. Endo is such a bitch.

    I hope you have a nice easy recovery – I found my 2nd, 3rd, and 4th surgeries to all get increasingly easy to bounce back from. I hope the same is true for you!

  2. You’re right, period pain levels tell nothing of the degree of endo. I was/am one of the “lucky” ones that doesn’t have any pain what-so-ever! But, I found it more of a shock to find out that I have endo and that was my “only” reason for IF. It sucks, pain or no pain.

    Good luck on your surgery tomorrow! Sending positive thoughts your way.

  3. Ooh, good luck with everything. Surgery can be so scary, especially when you are thinking of the little one waiting for you. I hope this helps the pain, too, that sounds excruciating and unnecessary.

  4. Best of luck! I do hope this will mean a drastical improvement. And long lasting. Daniel will be fine. And you will still worry about him, no matter what anyone, including you, says.

    Are you sure GoT is the right book for when you are in pain? I have tried to give up reading the first book five times, and each time I just had to go back, and three months later I am on the last book, so I obviously like it enough to not be able to put it down. But lady, I would not recommended for when you are already in pain. Even when you know what happens, it still manages to twist a broken heart and punch you breathless. You know why GRR Martin does not have a twitter account, yes? Because he would kill all 140 characters. And this is frankly no joke. Just saying.

    Looking forward to your updating with good news.

  5. I’ll be thinking of you tomorrow.

    I’m less than 2 month removed from my second lap, and I do have to say it was much easier this time around. Having set expectations and memories to fall back on was tremendously helpful, as was the knowledge that this time I was going to wake up knowing that yes, I did have endo, and, no, the “exploratory” surgery wasn’t a waste.

    I can’t imagine facing this with a little one on my mind, but you’re strong (clearly), you’ve got support, and you’ll fare well I’m sure. Time for some serious pampering post-surgery. (I watched an entire BBC series on Amazon in the 4 days following my lap!)

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