“Well….according to this ultrasound and the way you’ve been feeling, it looks like we may have to operate…”
Instantly my mind went swirly, dizzy, foggy, confused, and a little heart-broke. I had been living in limbo, unsure of what was going on and trying not to jump to the exciting/scary/holy $#&@ conclusion that I may actually be pregnant.
But after 2 weeks of intense pain, a lovely ER visit and enough percocet to sedate a small village, apparently there was finally enough evidence to more conclusively suggest I had an ectopic pregnancy.
My doctor, with his perfectly tousled, dark-hair-with-specks-of-gray and movie star cheekbones (your basic nightmare), proceeded to tell me if I did indeed have an ectopic and it wasn’t taken care of soon, very soon, it could rupture….causing a mess, to say the least.
“Ok doc so when are you thinking about doing this?”
“I can get you in at 3:30pm”.
Let the freak-out commence.
Wait….what? Today?!?! But it’s 1pm. I immediately called the oak tree and tried to restrict my panic to a minimum. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t panic, you’re ok, its fine, its fine, you will be FINE!
Off to the hospital I went. All the usual pre-surgery stuff — IVs, questions and more questions, lots of blood sugar checks and some anxiety thrown in for good measure. And more questions. And some scary decisions – if the Dr went in, found the ectopic and was unable to remove it without excessive blood loss, was it ok for him to remove my tube altogether? Yikes. So I may lose a whole side. I would keep the ovary of course but it wouldn’t be useful for baby making. And if the tube could remain in place, I’d have a higher risk of recurring ectopics. Fun. Come on doc, just give me the happy drugs, put me under and get it done.
Breathe! Don’t panic!
To make matters worse, turns out I couldn’t get the “happy”, calming drug that is normally given before surgery because it would pose a risk to the baby if I was indeed pregnant in the normal sense. AHHH! Seriously? Dangit! I said my teary goodbye to the oak tree and my parents and back I go to the operating room. And wouldn’t luck have it, I’m in the room farthest away, it takes ages to get there. I’m rambling nervously to the nurses around me, trying to keep a light composure. We enter the stark white room, lit up like a baseball field, the nurses start to strap down my arms and chest as The Killers play in the background…
Suddenly I’m gasping, coughing, almost choking for air. I can’t really see anything but am using all my energy just to take a breath.
“I can’t breathe!” I blurted out.
The shadowy figure next to me assured me I was ok, “good news for you, doc didn’t have to remove anything! I guess we need to congratulate you!”
My vision cleared and I saw two nurses standing on my left. I had made it through the surgery! Dr Movie Star came by and said there was no ectopic, he removed a lot of fluid that he thinks was from multiple ruptured cysts AND that my uterus looked “like a pregnant uterus.”
Like a freaking PREGNANT UTERUS!
Funny. What the ER doctor two weeks ago tried to explain away as “bad gas pain” or “bladder spasms” was actually A BABY. A little person inside me.
The oak tree and the weeping willow made a little acorn. 😉