And a Happy New Year
New Year's Eve Tom had to work but the shift isn't too long. I got up just before he left so I could wave goodbye. It was only about 5 minutes after he drove out of sight that I started to feel the pain again in my abdomen. The same place on the bottom right, but it wasn't as bad as before. I tried to lay down and stay calm cos I figured it would go away but after a while it was still there and my temperature had gone up. I knew it was happening again but was too scared to have any sense. If someone else is ill I can deal, I stay calm and I handle the situation but when it's me I just loose my head.
Tried to call my folks to ask whether they thought I should get a cab to the hospital or call an ambulance. Sounds like a stupid question but in my mind ambulances are for people having heart attacks or who have been stabbed not people who have a stomach problem that can't be indentified.
Finally got through to Jo who calmed me down a bit and then Tom who told me he would meet me at the hospital once he let his staff in. Called 999. Something I thought I would never need to do. The staff were really nice and talked to me until the ambulance arrived.
I forgot my shoes and my coat. in my socks shaking like a leaf doubled forward and worrying that I might not have locked the front door properly. It's odd whats important. This time the paramedic took me to the Minors department where I had all the usual tests done. By the time Tom had arrived i was starting to feel worse and getting nauseous too. The Doctor dave me some co-codamol which didn't even touch the pain, then he said that it wasn't my appendix (blood test results apparently) and that they would get gynae to check me out. Gynae doctor said they would get me some morphine to dull the pain, they examined me and said it probably wasn't a gynae issue and more likely bowel related but they would do a scan anyway. I was taken to the ward (by this time vomiting everytime I moved).
From the ward I think it was only about 20 minutes before I went for an ultrasound, then back to the ward where they told me straight away what was wrong. I had an ovarian cyst on my right ovary. It had grown very large and had twisted twice. The first time would have been Xmas eve, it had even started to leak into my abdomen and then torsioned again that morning. They told me they would have to send me in for an emergency operation within the hour to remove the cyst and some of the ovary but that they would do their best to leave some tissue there. They also said not to worry as I have a second ovary. Was in surgery very quickly and woke up at 5:50pm a little confused as i didn't remember dropping off. The next morning the doctor told me the results of the surgery. She didn't wait for any relatives like Tom to sit with me even though she knew the news would be upsetting. No one offered to call Tom and I was left until that evening to see anyone who could offer me support.
They had removed the whole ovary as it was too damaged. They had then discovered I didn't have a second one even though an MRI test 6 years prior had said there was a lef ovary too. I was told I would now require HRT for the res of my life and never have a child that was genetically mine. Thanks. I'm not ashamed to admit that it broke my heart and I couldn't bear to talk to anyone all day. I'm 23, not 53. What exactly are the odds of having a cyst in the first place, then half them since I had only one ovary that could get it. Then add in the odds of having a cyst as well as being unfortunate enough to have MRKH as well. I pissed someone off in a previous life I guess.
I was in hospital until Wednesday 3rd jan when I ws finally disharged. On the Tuesday morning the doctor had told me I needed to start getting out of bed that the other women who had a similar size wound ( a C-section/laparotomy) were normally up and about by now with their new baby. Then she just walked off. You think she realised how hurtful that comment was? Give me a new born baby I can call my own and I would have been out of bed too, but those other patients had something to look forward to and all I had was the security that I will never have my own family. I know I am feeling sorry for myself. I thought I was over the fact I would never get pregnant but having this happen was the final nail in my coffin. I always had a secret hope that seeing as I had eggs still I would one day be able to afford surrogacy or there would be a medical development. they have in the past few years tried giving people womb transplants. I know full well all of that was a long shot but it had always kept me going, kept me calm. Now it was at an end and I had to face the cold hard reality that I would never be a mum.
Tom has been really supportive, he took nearly a week unpaid leave to look after me. He had to dress me, do all the cooking and cleaning, help wash me and sit with me all day which must have been boring. He puts up with my mood swings and never once complained that I would just burst into tears randomly, although at one point he told me he felt helpless when I cried. That ws however the whole reason I ws crying. I feel helpless and out of control too. Nothing I do matters, everything I look for in my future gets taken away and I makes my heart ache. It makes getting up in the morning the hardest task of the day. Anyway I digress.
The district nurse came round on Friday to remove my stitches. She said the wound looked good but that I should have more than 6 weeks off work. The 12 weeks she suggested would probably drive me crazy and might well bankrupt us as I am earning half my normal money by being off sick. Was told to go to the doctors on Monday and let him know I was still breathless as I may be anaemic.
Went to the GP's and gave him the letter from the hospital that would explain the situation. He sat and read it quietly for a few moments then asked, "so what made you get a torsion on New Years eve?" For a moment Tom and I had both thought he ws going to ask why I had gotten my ovary removed. Things went down hill after that. He then went on to nonchalantly say, "well at least you have another ovary", although the letter clearly states I require HRT and as such can't have another ovary. I had to physically bite my tongue to stop from saying something I might later regret (or not) and to stop the tear from welling up any more than they already had. My wound still looked clean and uninfected which was good news but he couldn't give me any information on the HRT implant option. My insurance company will cover 18 months worth of HRT by implant only, not the patches or tablets so I am considering this. 18 months doesn't cover much of the rest of my life but at least it's a start.
I don't know what to say really. All these thoughts buzz around my mind like flies on a decaying corpse. I just can't make any sense of it. I know I am being irrational at times but at others the anger and fear, all the pain it just feels better than feeling nothing. I never knew morphine really did make a person itch but it does. While I was on the self medicating thing pushing for the next dose, waiting for it, living for it in a way; all I could do was scratch. Hospitals are timeless, totally seperate to the outside world where the weather matters and the world keeps turning. Inside the ward, everything is eternal, the next round of medication or meals is a lifetime away. the trip to the bathroom, when you can get out of bed is a long journey, an achievement and night can't come quick enough. A new chance to sleep away a few more hours, the peace from the phone ringing at the nurses station, the giggles of the staff and the rattle of the trolleys going between bays.
MRSA is supposed to be huge problem from patients in hospitals across the UK now but apathy is surely more endemic amongst the staff and patients. It isn't long before any resident in the wrd fails to care anymore whether they have washed, or eaten, whether we have taken our antibiotics or if a new conflict has been announced in the news. The only thinkg we show the slightest care about is the next dose of pain relief which will hopefully dull our senses and let time skip forward a little. The hospital is a world of it's own, with a bleak desolate landscape of trolleys and white, instead of the wind whistling you hear the moans of patients. For a couple of nights at Christmas the night was filled with the cries of a man calling "help me, please help me, make it stop" every few minutes, but every human cells that remains in you fails to care enough about that person whose pain relief clearly isn't enough, so you just lay there staring at the ceiling counting the ceiling tiles and waiting for the next fix to wsh you away into oblivion.
Tried to call my folks to ask whether they thought I should get a cab to the hospital or call an ambulance. Sounds like a stupid question but in my mind ambulances are for people having heart attacks or who have been stabbed not people who have a stomach problem that can't be indentified.
Finally got through to Jo who calmed me down a bit and then Tom who told me he would meet me at the hospital once he let his staff in. Called 999. Something I thought I would never need to do. The staff were really nice and talked to me until the ambulance arrived.
I forgot my shoes and my coat. in my socks shaking like a leaf doubled forward and worrying that I might not have locked the front door properly. It's odd whats important. This time the paramedic took me to the Minors department where I had all the usual tests done. By the time Tom had arrived i was starting to feel worse and getting nauseous too. The Doctor dave me some co-codamol which didn't even touch the pain, then he said that it wasn't my appendix (blood test results apparently) and that they would get gynae to check me out. Gynae doctor said they would get me some morphine to dull the pain, they examined me and said it probably wasn't a gynae issue and more likely bowel related but they would do a scan anyway. I was taken to the ward (by this time vomiting everytime I moved).
From the ward I think it was only about 20 minutes before I went for an ultrasound, then back to the ward where they told me straight away what was wrong. I had an ovarian cyst on my right ovary. It had grown very large and had twisted twice. The first time would have been Xmas eve, it had even started to leak into my abdomen and then torsioned again that morning. They told me they would have to send me in for an emergency operation within the hour to remove the cyst and some of the ovary but that they would do their best to leave some tissue there. They also said not to worry as I have a second ovary. Was in surgery very quickly and woke up at 5:50pm a little confused as i didn't remember dropping off. The next morning the doctor told me the results of the surgery. She didn't wait for any relatives like Tom to sit with me even though she knew the news would be upsetting. No one offered to call Tom and I was left until that evening to see anyone who could offer me support.
They had removed the whole ovary as it was too damaged. They had then discovered I didn't have a second one even though an MRI test 6 years prior had said there was a lef ovary too. I was told I would now require HRT for the res of my life and never have a child that was genetically mine. Thanks. I'm not ashamed to admit that it broke my heart and I couldn't bear to talk to anyone all day. I'm 23, not 53. What exactly are the odds of having a cyst in the first place, then half them since I had only one ovary that could get it. Then add in the odds of having a cyst as well as being unfortunate enough to have MRKH as well. I pissed someone off in a previous life I guess.
I was in hospital until Wednesday 3rd jan when I ws finally disharged. On the Tuesday morning the doctor had told me I needed to start getting out of bed that the other women who had a similar size wound ( a C-section/laparotomy) were normally up and about by now with their new baby. Then she just walked off. You think she realised how hurtful that comment was? Give me a new born baby I can call my own and I would have been out of bed too, but those other patients had something to look forward to and all I had was the security that I will never have my own family. I know I am feeling sorry for myself. I thought I was over the fact I would never get pregnant but having this happen was the final nail in my coffin. I always had a secret hope that seeing as I had eggs still I would one day be able to afford surrogacy or there would be a medical development. they have in the past few years tried giving people womb transplants. I know full well all of that was a long shot but it had always kept me going, kept me calm. Now it was at an end and I had to face the cold hard reality that I would never be a mum.
Tom has been really supportive, he took nearly a week unpaid leave to look after me. He had to dress me, do all the cooking and cleaning, help wash me and sit with me all day which must have been boring. He puts up with my mood swings and never once complained that I would just burst into tears randomly, although at one point he told me he felt helpless when I cried. That ws however the whole reason I ws crying. I feel helpless and out of control too. Nothing I do matters, everything I look for in my future gets taken away and I makes my heart ache. It makes getting up in the morning the hardest task of the day. Anyway I digress.
The district nurse came round on Friday to remove my stitches. She said the wound looked good but that I should have more than 6 weeks off work. The 12 weeks she suggested would probably drive me crazy and might well bankrupt us as I am earning half my normal money by being off sick. Was told to go to the doctors on Monday and let him know I was still breathless as I may be anaemic.
Went to the GP's and gave him the letter from the hospital that would explain the situation. He sat and read it quietly for a few moments then asked, "so what made you get a torsion on New Years eve?" For a moment Tom and I had both thought he ws going to ask why I had gotten my ovary removed. Things went down hill after that. He then went on to nonchalantly say, "well at least you have another ovary", although the letter clearly states I require HRT and as such can't have another ovary. I had to physically bite my tongue to stop from saying something I might later regret (or not) and to stop the tear from welling up any more than they already had. My wound still looked clean and uninfected which was good news but he couldn't give me any information on the HRT implant option. My insurance company will cover 18 months worth of HRT by implant only, not the patches or tablets so I am considering this. 18 months doesn't cover much of the rest of my life but at least it's a start.
I don't know what to say really. All these thoughts buzz around my mind like flies on a decaying corpse. I just can't make any sense of it. I know I am being irrational at times but at others the anger and fear, all the pain it just feels better than feeling nothing. I never knew morphine really did make a person itch but it does. While I was on the self medicating thing pushing for the next dose, waiting for it, living for it in a way; all I could do was scratch. Hospitals are timeless, totally seperate to the outside world where the weather matters and the world keeps turning. Inside the ward, everything is eternal, the next round of medication or meals is a lifetime away. the trip to the bathroom, when you can get out of bed is a long journey, an achievement and night can't come quick enough. A new chance to sleep away a few more hours, the peace from the phone ringing at the nurses station, the giggles of the staff and the rattle of the trolleys going between bays.
MRSA is supposed to be huge problem from patients in hospitals across the UK now but apathy is surely more endemic amongst the staff and patients. It isn't long before any resident in the wrd fails to care anymore whether they have washed, or eaten, whether we have taken our antibiotics or if a new conflict has been announced in the news. The only thinkg we show the slightest care about is the next dose of pain relief which will hopefully dull our senses and let time skip forward a little. The hospital is a world of it's own, with a bleak desolate landscape of trolleys and white, instead of the wind whistling you hear the moans of patients. For a couple of nights at Christmas the night was filled with the cries of a man calling "help me, please help me, make it stop" every few minutes, but every human cells that remains in you fails to care enough about that person whose pain relief clearly isn't enough, so you just lay there staring at the ceiling counting the ceiling tiles and waiting for the next fix to wsh you away into oblivion.
posted by stunted at 4:33 AM
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