Before leaving the doctor’s office, I made an appointment for another scan. After borrowing the receptionist’s charger to charge my phone so I could see my diary, I had to find a date that suited me that the doctor could also make. Not an easy task, but we managed to find one for 2 weeks later. After giving me all the instructions and the date and time, the receptionist added “Oh, and you can’t be having your period that day”. Back to the diary and sure enough, my due date was exactly that day. Another date was found and I headed home to sulk.
Knowing how long you can wait for surgery, I rang the doctor’s assistant to book in. She gave me a date and then added that I can’t have the surgery during my period because of the risk of excessive bleeding. I got a date that worked very well – quiet on the work front, mid-cycle, etc. Perfect! Except for the fact it was my wedding anniversary and the next day was my birthday. Ho hum.
My husband, now having lost his title of “the sperm-donor” as it felt a bit redundant, accompanied me to the scan appointment. He had never met my surgeon, so as we waited, he assumed every male who walked through the door was him.
“Remember Stephen Fry’s character in Blackadder Goes Forth?” I asked. “General Melchard? That’s what you should be looking for”. With that, the door opened and in walked Melchard.”Ah yes”, said Hubby with a grin.
The examinations, prodding and poking never get any easier. It just helps to leave your dignity at the door and get on with it. So with my husband, the female sonographer, Melchard and his mate, the head doctor from the ultrasound clinic, we inserted the all-seeing dildo camera and had a look at the little bastards that were making my life miserable.
The doctors discussed other patients they had recently seen. Patients with far worse symptoms than I…perhaps to make me feel better? Perhaps to see who had the most tragic case of the week? They had a quick chat about where the fibroids were sitting, and used lots of big words to make themselves sound important, then turned to me to suggest the open uterus operation to get them all out. I told him I already had a surgery date.
“And as that day is my anniversary and the next day is my birthday, I want extra special care. And while you’re down there, a tummy tuck”.
I’m not sure if he knew I was joking or not.
My November period came a week early. Not a disaster under normal circumstances, but it meant that if my next period came on time, it would coincide with surgery. I have gone from being “28 days on the dot” to “whenever is the most inconvenient”. I rang the doctor’s office and a prescription for Provera to stop my period from coming was posted out to me. Besides the hormones making me feel crazy and, well, hormonal, I was getting ready for the surgery by clearing the diary and taking some disgusting herbal remedies to boost my immunity.
Two days before my surgery date, I got my period.
I rang to change the date of the surgery. Another 2 weeks to wait and a change of hospital. I wasn’t particularly looking forward to going back to the hospital that got such a bad report card from me last year. Let’s see how this one fares!