Thursday, October 27, 2011
I'm confused. I have had conflicting advice about which medication I should be taking and I don't know where to turn for information. I will be getting back in touch with my specialist but an appointment isn't that easy to get and the wait is long once you get one and I just want to know if I'm doing the right thing or not. I'll get unconfused, or I'll just continue along this way, but that's where I'm at. The details aren't that important but they include things like the medication that was supposed to send me into menopause didn't exactly do the job and I'm wondering now what.
In the meantime I've been contemplating my body and how it houses me and and how it really just runs itself provided I do certain things and I'm so grateful. It's confusing to think there's this big thing going on inside I can't see or really feel and it makes me feel so out of touch. Like there's a stereotypical teenager in my uterus doing her own thing and not reaching out except once a month to make a scene and then return to her room leaving me to wonder what in the world is going on.
When I asked my GP why people are saying I need a hysterectomy when all of these new-fangled surgical options are available, he described to me how the fibroids are growing. Basically they're "intramural" and the big one is incorporated into my uterus - it's not on it or something they could cut off. It's integrated and to get it out means taking out my uterus, too. So supposedly I can have this operation and continue to ovulate each month, although my mom kindly pointed out, "sometimes people go into menopause from the surgery even if their ovaries are left." Great. Not that menopause is that bad, but I was kind of looking forward to continuing to have my cycle even without menstruating. Who knows.
That brings me to menstruating. So I was getting ready to say goodbye to my period, having my final mixed feelings about it all, really noticing the blood (I'll spare you all the rest, just know I was really paying attention), and like the patient who doesn't die when pulled off the life support, my medication didn't do the trick and I had another opportunity to possibly say my last goodbyes to my period. By the time it finally goes I will have said goodbye a whole bunch. Like standing in the yard waving to family members in the car who drive off, only to come back 5 minutes later because they remember they forgot something, the goodbye I'm having has lost its initial dramatic feel and will be a simple nod by the time it finally gets on its way.
I could not have this operation. It's not life-threatening. But like going to Montreal, I could walk. Thanks to modern technology and cars and whatnot, I drive to Montreal. There are consequences and there's a price I have to pay to participate in this culture. Same thing. I could wait for my body to stop making fibroids, but there's another 10 years or so left of that, and while that's all going on, travel is difficult, teaching yoga for more than an hour is difficult at times, it's hard to plan, and my energy is wild. I could put up with it, keep looking for natural solutions and new yoga poses to do the trick, just do "watchful waiting" as it's described in the reading material. Or I could have it taken out, heal up, and be on my way. Everyone I've spoken to who has had this operation is happy about it. Even my 94-year old grandmother said she's glad she did it. Maybe I will be too.