Remember the Frank Sinatra song..."My Way?" Let me refresh your memory. "Regrets...I've had a few..." I find myself singing this song today for that line. I had my laproscopic surgery on Thursday to determine if I had endometriosis and to remove any scar tissue found. Last week was a whirlwind of fear and unexpected hospital stays that culminating in a surgery that may have proved to be unnecessary. Let's recap.
On Sunday, my father was taken to the ER for two days of vomiting and severe stomach cramps. He was admitted and had his gallbladder removed Monday night. Besides finding an adominal anuerysm, all went well. I was going to cancel my surgery yet again, but because they were able to do the gallbladder removal laproscopically, I decided to go ahead with my own procedure. The days before I had to spend figuring out how to get Builder Boy to and from school, have someone to watch him after school, how to get me to and from the hospital, and how to function alone post-anesthesia. My go-to gal (my mom) had her hands full with my dad and my other go-to gal (my sister) is so busy at work we didn't want to bother her. It was stressful to say the least. Couple this with an overwhelming fear that I would die during the surgery and I was a pleasure to be around. I spent showers sobbing thinking about all that could go wrong and that how irresponsible this was fo us to do while we already had a child. I wasn't sleeping as I thought about poor Builder Boy growing up without me. And I thought of all the pressure on Remodel Man to go it alone. Yes, I know this was anxiety working on me. A very dear friend pointed this out to me and it helped me in dealing with the fear.
Dad came home on Wednesday and was doing well, so mom and dad decided that she would come down and pick up Builder Boy from school and stay with him until we got home. This alleviated some stress, but also added to it-dad would be home alone and what if something happened? With my aunt and my dad's best friend on call, mom headed down to help out with many phone calls home to her honey.
I woke up Thursday less anxious and feeling more prepared. The hospital we go to is an amazing place with the kindest staff I've ever experienced in a hospital. They held my hand (literally) through both D&Cs and encouraged me to cry as we waited for both procedures. They asked me questions about my life and got to know me. They cracked jokes and answered questions. This visit to the hospital was no different. They were kind, supportive, encouraging and put me at ease. They clearly respect my doctor and he clearly holds them in high esteem. The procedure went fine and I went into recovery with another set of kind and amazing nurses. Besides throwing up immediately upon waking (OUCH!), the rest of the recovery went okay.
So the regret part? The doctor found some signs of scar tissue, which he removed, but it wasn't much. Stage 1 or maybe Stage 2. Just from some minor research, with such little amounts of it, the surgery was probably unnecessary and was probably not the reason for our inability to get or stay pregnant. And this was very discouraging. I feel very weepy about losing out on a beautiful fall weekend with my son because of a procedure that probably isn't going to give him a sibling. I am using up three precious sick days for nothing. I woke up last night sick with a fever that has yet to break. I am worried about infection or something worse. And for what?
I know there was no way to know how severe the endometriosis was without surgery, but I just feel like our desperation has reached new levels when I thought we were heading into the acceptance phase of this infertility journey. Our next steps? No idea...