***In which there is more discussion of Girl Parts. Ewww!
I've been playing the waiting game for just over a week, which means to some extent I've been playing the stressing game. One of the good things about these experiences is I'm seriously honing my skills at the stressing game and developing a much thicker skin. As anyone who knows me well can attest, I am a bit prone to worrying, so anything that helps me learn how to relax and take things in stride is a huge step in a healthy direction.
Most of my stress has been surrounding the costs of the unknown further imaging needed to try to determine an appropriate surgical fix. I was hoping for just the ultrasound but feared that with my atrocious luck we'd have to add on the MRI only to find out in the end that I was a hopeless cause and there was no fix for me. I figure if I brace myself for the worst then I'm prepared if it happens, monumentally thrilled if it doesn't.
Guess who's monumentally thrilled?
I finally got my anxiously awaited call from the doctor yesterday, who had very unexpected news: she reviewed the images from the torture x-rays, I mean, the HSG, as well as the notes from the radiologist from our miscarriage confirm appointment (who was the first to raise a flag about our potential uterus woes) and determined the issue was not a bicournate uterus but a septate one instead. This means there are not two divergent horns connected by a small base, but a septum, or interior "wall", that is causing a bit of a divide. In other words we are much closer to a heart shaped uterus then complete crazy town and it seems to be easier to fix.
The Fix: the septum needs to be trimmed back to the uterus wall (imagine cutting wrapping paper but stopping just before you get all the way through - Gift Wrappers, you are welcome!), that means scissors by way of cervix. By now I'm not nearly as concerned about that as I am the laporoscopic camera and flashlight that will be inserted via belly button (*twitch*) as the guide my doctor uses to determine when she has cut far enough. The nice thing is that this should be a fairly quick(ish?) outpatient procedure and Clif will get the incredibly entertaining responsibility of waking me up afterwards. There has been no mention, but I am assuming they'll knock me out, they'll have to. Internal scissors aside I tend to want to violently fight people that make even the slightest effort to get in the vicinity of my belly button... After that I'll have about a month of heal time then we will take another trip to Torture Town thanks to a second HSG to make sure the correction held and it didn't try to grow back all catawompus. There is a very, very big part of me that really wants to ask if we can just skip that part, but at 4-6 months per attempt the smart thing is to make sure it's right rather than waste unnecessary time. Darn adult responsible thinking...
So, we're on to another waiting game, but this one will be much easier to play. I'm on some hormones to help thin things out while my doctor calculates the ideal time to schedule this procedure. Timing, I have learned, is precise and paramount. That's going to be a month right there then another one for healing. Bring it, May!
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
And The Winner Is...
*parental guidance: the post in which there is some description and explanation. Nothing graphic but if you don't know me that well and would like to keep it that way, know me that well and don't care to know any further or are not interested in the details, feel free to skim liberally. These are things I wish I'd known before experiencing them and wish had been explained in more accurate light than I thought they were, so this post is for the full disclosure.
Check List
1.Genetic Incompatability - let's just call it that,
it seems to cover a multitude. Barring spontaneous issues we have
determined our genes like each other. Party!
2.Bad Blood - all of my blood is fine.
3.Hormone Crazy Town - see above.
4. Uterus of Doom - and the truth shall set you free! Or freak you the heck out, it all depends on your spin...
On Monday I took my floating President's Day holiday to participate in a rather unpleasant Procedure. At this point in the game all references to any Procedure will be capitalized to give due respect. This recent One was sufficiently horrific of it's own natural nature, the Potential Ones to Come don't sound any better, and so I shall take strides to not anger them further. Procedures (said with awe and reverence).
So, by now you've gathered a Hysterosalpingogram isn't exactly a pleasant fun happy time, especially when my body is so uncooperative we had to do the worst, most painful part of the Procedure three times. Three. I have a fairly high pain threshold so having to struggle to not scream at the doctor to get out of my business and cease the torture was a pretty significant moment for me. Important note: if your doctor suggests you take some Motrin before your appointment, don't be all stoic and "Oh, I'm used to cramps, I've got this", TAKE THE MOTRIN. I am not sure it would have helped the specific pain I experienced in those awful 5 minutes that felt like a lifetime of trying to get the balloon to stay inflated to hold the catheter in place, but I certainly didn't do myself any favors. My doctor, as well as the link above, indicated that the cramps experienced during the catheter placement would be tolerable and grossly downplayed the intensity of the experience. I was not prepared. Luckily once I had a moment to adjust to the placement the pain subsided considerably and I could calm down a bit.
All said and done, however, at least it was quick. About 30 minutes start to finish and at least half of that was being hustled around, changing and running into a door (yup, I totally did. With my face. There's a bruise). Lord love the women who were in there with me (my doctor, the radiologist and one or two nurses, I don't know if the second stayed) who weren't blind, could see how miserable I was and got the pictures taken in record time. I heard my doctor's comment of "well, that explains a lot" and felt a strange surge of relief thinking whatever it was we finally had an answer. I heard my doctor ask the radiologist if the hospital was equipped to do 3D Sonograms but no one seemed to know for sure. I don't know if everyone was triple booked or what, but the frantic run around pace didn't stop as people bustled back out of the room as quickly as I'd been bustled in. My doctor stayed and turned the screen to show me the live-time pictures of the confirmation we'd made that I have a bicornuate uterus (see also), at this point of unknown variety, hence the need for the Sonogram, then left with a promise to "call me soon".
When we first started out down the diagnostic path I was not ready to believe that my uterus was the problem. I was sure my fix would be with some supplemental progesterone and in March we could give it another go, sure the third time would be our charm. As we went further along I was more and more worried about having to face the issue that couldn't be fixed with pills. Though right now I am incredibly relieved and thankful for my health as determined by extensive lab work, thankful to have an answer, but the staggering number of questions that have manifested is overwhelming. For those of you who are gamer minded, it's like finishing a time consuming quest chain only to find at the end another 3 side-quests open up and you have no idea which one to start first (it's a stretch, go with it).
Where are we now? Waiting and wondering. Waiting for a call from my doctor who I think is trying to figure out how to get a 3D Sonogram scheduled so we know what flavor of bicornuate we're dealing with. Wondering if the ultrasound will definitely give us the information we need or if there's a chance we will still have to do an MRI and if it's enough of a dice roll should we just go straight to the MRI even though it's more expensive because doing both would be the most expensive option of all. Then what of that horn separation? Is it thin enough to give a quick snip and release or is it a more substantial division that would need more substantial surgery and time to heal? What are the risks of surgery and what kind of surgery are we talking about? Is laparoscopy an option or will we need to do something open-abdominal? Will I be bumped to the category of high risk pregnancy or just a high risk delivery? Am I already in that category? Will I come out of it? Will surgery even be an option at all when it's said and done? And even if we do a surgical correction will that REALLY fix the issue and increase our chance for success or are we wasting time trying when we really should be pursuing alternatives. Am I ready to handle the possibility that I might not be able to carry our child?
Things just got heavy.
Thank goodness I married such a wonderful man who could find a silver lining: now that we know I have a two-horned uterus we understand why I get so evil every three weeks.
Humor doesn't erase the seriousness of big issues, but it sure helps a lot. I've heard comments about my positive attitude through all of this, but I honestly couldn't imagine the alternative. Without hope and humor an already crummy situation would be downright miserable and suffocating. In the end things are going to happen as they will happen and all we can do is take each step along the way, praying for the best that is meant for us, whatever that might be.
Check List
1.
2.
3.
4. Uterus of Doom - and the truth shall set you free! Or freak you the heck out, it all depends on your spin...
On Monday I took my floating President's Day holiday to participate in a rather unpleasant Procedure. At this point in the game all references to any Procedure will be capitalized to give due respect. This recent One was sufficiently horrific of it's own natural nature, the Potential Ones to Come don't sound any better, and so I shall take strides to not anger them further. Procedures (said with awe and reverence).
So, by now you've gathered a Hysterosalpingogram isn't exactly a pleasant fun happy time, especially when my body is so uncooperative we had to do the worst, most painful part of the Procedure three times. Three. I have a fairly high pain threshold so having to struggle to not scream at the doctor to get out of my business and cease the torture was a pretty significant moment for me. Important note: if your doctor suggests you take some Motrin before your appointment, don't be all stoic and "Oh, I'm used to cramps, I've got this", TAKE THE MOTRIN. I am not sure it would have helped the specific pain I experienced in those awful 5 minutes that felt like a lifetime of trying to get the balloon to stay inflated to hold the catheter in place, but I certainly didn't do myself any favors. My doctor, as well as the link above, indicated that the cramps experienced during the catheter placement would be tolerable and grossly downplayed the intensity of the experience. I was not prepared. Luckily once I had a moment to adjust to the placement the pain subsided considerably and I could calm down a bit.
All said and done, however, at least it was quick. About 30 minutes start to finish and at least half of that was being hustled around, changing and running into a door (yup, I totally did. With my face. There's a bruise). Lord love the women who were in there with me (my doctor, the radiologist and one or two nurses, I don't know if the second stayed) who weren't blind, could see how miserable I was and got the pictures taken in record time. I heard my doctor's comment of "well, that explains a lot" and felt a strange surge of relief thinking whatever it was we finally had an answer. I heard my doctor ask the radiologist if the hospital was equipped to do 3D Sonograms but no one seemed to know for sure. I don't know if everyone was triple booked or what, but the frantic run around pace didn't stop as people bustled back out of the room as quickly as I'd been bustled in. My doctor stayed and turned the screen to show me the live-time pictures of the confirmation we'd made that I have a bicornuate uterus (see also), at this point of unknown variety, hence the need for the Sonogram, then left with a promise to "call me soon".
When we first started out down the diagnostic path I was not ready to believe that my uterus was the problem. I was sure my fix would be with some supplemental progesterone and in March we could give it another go, sure the third time would be our charm. As we went further along I was more and more worried about having to face the issue that couldn't be fixed with pills. Though right now I am incredibly relieved and thankful for my health as determined by extensive lab work, thankful to have an answer, but the staggering number of questions that have manifested is overwhelming. For those of you who are gamer minded, it's like finishing a time consuming quest chain only to find at the end another 3 side-quests open up and you have no idea which one to start first (it's a stretch, go with it).
Where are we now? Waiting and wondering. Waiting for a call from my doctor who I think is trying to figure out how to get a 3D Sonogram scheduled so we know what flavor of bicornuate we're dealing with. Wondering if the ultrasound will definitely give us the information we need or if there's a chance we will still have to do an MRI and if it's enough of a dice roll should we just go straight to the MRI even though it's more expensive because doing both would be the most expensive option of all. Then what of that horn separation? Is it thin enough to give a quick snip and release or is it a more substantial division that would need more substantial surgery and time to heal? What are the risks of surgery and what kind of surgery are we talking about? Is laparoscopy an option or will we need to do something open-abdominal? Will I be bumped to the category of high risk pregnancy or just a high risk delivery? Am I already in that category? Will I come out of it? Will surgery even be an option at all when it's said and done? And even if we do a surgical correction will that REALLY fix the issue and increase our chance for success or are we wasting time trying when we really should be pursuing alternatives. Am I ready to handle the possibility that I might not be able to carry our child?
Things just got heavy.
Thank goodness I married such a wonderful man who could find a silver lining: now that we know I have a two-horned uterus we understand why I get so evil every three weeks.
Humor doesn't erase the seriousness of big issues, but it sure helps a lot. I've heard comments about my positive attitude through all of this, but I honestly couldn't imagine the alternative. Without hope and humor an already crummy situation would be downright miserable and suffocating. In the end things are going to happen as they will happen and all we can do is take each step along the way, praying for the best that is meant for us, whatever that might be.
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