In which I am overwrought and hyperbolic
I expected this appointment to make me feel better, but it has made me feel far, far, worse. Worse than I’ve felt in a long time, and that’s sayin’ something. Strangely, this reaction seems to have little to do with the facts of my case. Turns out it was all in the interpretation. As my husband reported, my left ovary is basically stranded and useless. That tube is distended and displaced by a fibroid, so while the ovary does its best, it’s just pumping all those perfectly nice eggs into a reproductive void. My RE thinks even if the fibroid were removed, the tube would not recover. Hearing that for myself was really upsetting. I apologize to those of you who have experienced real losses of reproductive organs–a tube, an ovary–I know my situation is not as bad. But when I think about all those months when I never even had a chance, I feel so angry! And I feel like my reproductive potential has just been halved. On the right side, he removed a cyst, and I’d formed the impression that I was therefore better off than before the surgery. That did not seem to be his message. He seemed to be suggesting that nothing was any different. We looked back over my ultrasounds from the IUIs. On all three occasions, I had mature follicles on my right side. He scanned me to see what my ovaries are currently up to–both are snoozing, so I don’t yet know which side will be more dominant this month. Oh, and by the way, REs of the world, don’t talk to professors about their grants while wanding them with your dildo cam. Grants are a stressful topic, for fuck’s sake!
When he’d finished his wanding, he said, You’re young, you’ve got plenty of eggs, there’s no rush. I don’t mind doing a few more IUI cycles! My throat constricted. I MIND. I MIND VERY MUCH. This is my life, my heartache! This process is seriously fucking with my ability to function! How dare you treat what I go through every month as though it’s trivial! So…I began to cry. The effort to suppress full on sobbing resulted in me making pathetic squeaking noises, like I had a mouse under my modestly-draped sheet.
I don’t understand why he would think IUI would work for me if it didn’t before. Every time, my right ovary was in on the action! Why, oh WHY would it work? It won’t work. I will never, ever get pregnant. Ever.
My other option is to have a myomectomy now. He stressed the fact that this is a serious surgery. That I’d be recovering for about three cycles and there might be scar tissue that could make things worse. Okay, he didn’t say make things worse, but what else would scar tissue do? And that it might not do any good, but I can’t have IVF without it.
The optimistic picture that my husband presented me with post-op was nowhere to be found in my RE’s comments. The RE’s message was, Let’s do some more IUIs, Heck, it might work! And if not, you can have another surgery. Of course, that will be really bad and might not help. Sux 2 b u! Okay, I’m off to my next appointment! Let me know when you make up your mind!
I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know what to ask. Of course when I’ve calmed down a bit and talked to my husband, things will be clearer. At the moment all I know is that I stupidly allowed myself to hope. I allowed myself to imagine that I might get pregnant in the next few months. And that hope has been extinguished. COMFORT, please!