The Humour, The Tears, The Bargaining….

Well, I had another appointment today with my new Gynecologist/Surgeon.

I don’t think he appreciates my humour as much as my PCP does….  I was in full comedy mode at one point during the appointment but all I managed to get was one eyeroll and a small chuckle.   The eye roll came when he said that he was sorry, he’d have to use the bigger speculum because the small one wasn’t allowing him to see what he needed to see.  I said:
“After I’ll I’ve been through since May, I’m not really shocked that my lady bits have become a deep, dark cavern.”
The small chuckle came after he had tortured me getting the larger speculum in place and then he had to adjust the light:
“It’s a bit dark in there; but I guess that’s normal.”
“We could always decorate my lady bits with patio lanterns to make your job easier.”

Honestly, I think the man thinks I may be a little bit crazy.

But I’m okay with that.

He promised today that he wouldn’t give up on me….  So it’s okay with me if he thinks I’m crazy.

Really though, I think it’s less that my crazy is showing and more that I really do just need to get back to my life.  My life as I know it…  Our life as WE know it.

This has all had a huge impact on my Wee….  I’m not happy with how frustrated she is becoming with all of this…

Especially with the fact that we still really don’t know WHAT is wrong…  We only know that things aren’t right.

After going over a bunch more test results and scan results and ultrasound results today; after once again giving me a full exam and applying silver nitrate to the areas that aren’t healing, my doctor looked at me and said we had a choice to make.  There were two options; we had to choose one:
“Ride this out a bit longer or go in and see if we can find the problem.”

I cried…  Again….  He handed me Kleenex…  Again….

I begged for relief.  I begged for my life back.  I begged him to help me.  I even begged him to cut out more stuff and just sew it all up.

He asked if I would be willing to go back and see my old surgeon; the one who did the initial surgery and told me that ‘I was fine’.

I flipped my shit.  I told my new surgeon that hell would freeze first.  I told him that I don’t trust my old surgeon.  I told him that he didn’t listen to me.  I then looked him dead in the eye and said “I don’t trust him.  I trust you.”

He nodded, said he could understand how I felt, and said he won’t give up on me.  He then recommended an exploratory surgery.  He said he can’t guarantee that I’ll wake up feeling any better but, hopefully, I may wake up with some answers; some direction for us to travel.

Right now that is important.  Right now, we have nothing.

He booked the surgery, he booked my next appointment, he upped my pain meds…

He said I’ll see you in two weeks…  after that, I’ll see you just before you go to sleep for me.

I cried…  Again.  He handed me Kleenexes….  Again.

I thanked him.

Now me and Wee hold on to hope…. Hope that when he takes a look, he’ll find something.  Even if it’s nothing he can fix, at least we’ll have something….

Something is better than nothing.  Something gives us some kind of hope for a fix.

Nothing leaves us feeling hopeless and helpless.

Hopeless and helpless…  it’s a sucky spot to be in.

On a side note to all women out there:
If any medical professional EVER says the words ‘Silver Nitrate’ to you; tell them that you’d rather have a red hot fireplace poker shoved up your lady bits….


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