I’m off to the doctor’s office today to find out my “official” weight loss. Unofficially, I believe I lost about 12 pounds, gained two and lost four, putting me at 10 pounds down. Officially, I think the doctor might find my weight loss to be about 6 to 8 pounds.
It’s been about four weeks, so I think I’m on track for healthy weight loss. We’ll see what my doctor says. And as for the weight gain — it was mostly in one weekend where I had a lot of social obligations.
Today is the second time I’ve been to a doctor’s office this week. Although, technically, earlier this week I saw a surgeon.
And I also realized that I am a big baby.
(WARNING: The rest of this post discusses girlie parts and may be deemed TMI for some readers.)
Last week, I had an ultrasound. It was a diagnostic procedure to figure out why I was having some issues. I have a love/hate relationship with my uterus, but it has been a long time since it has done me wrong, so I had pretty much forgiven it.
How did my uterus do me wrong? Well, back when I was 18 and 19 and again when I was about 20, my uterus decided it did not want to have children. And when I had decided differently, my uterus rebelled and instead gave me this thing called a blighted ovum. It means instead of growing a baby, my uterus decided to grow an empty sack.
My uterus must have really hated me for a while because it did this three times in a row. And then I went to see genetic counselors and specialists and got pregnant for the fourth time. By then, my uterus and I must have made up, and it did a very good job growing my baby girl, Autumn. And my uterus did it again successfully three more times before I decided it was overworked and underpaid. We agreed on a truce that would allow us to co-exist peacefully without bothering each other too much.
But last week, I had an ultrasound to check how my uterus has been doing in the years since I last overworked it. I expected it to be a little dusty, and I knew it would be tipped because I heard about its tippiness every time I got pregnant/gave birth, but I didn’t expect any problems.
OK, so I am not the brightest crayon in the box when it comes to my own health.
Earlier this week, I had a doctor appointment to hear about my ultrasound, and I took my mom along with me. And the surgeon came into my room, and pulled up my ultrasound report and read some words off the screen. I heard “fibroids” and “tumors,” and I took a deep breath and asked, “What does that mean?”
And the surgeon stood up, grabbed the door handle and said, “Let me get you a pamphlet.” And then he walked out.
He was back quickly, and I learned that uterine fibroids aren’t cancerous and more of an irritation issue than a health issue.
But the time he was gone? It was too long even though it wasn’t long at all. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I had set up a situation very similar to when my mom found out she had cancer. I had been with her that day, Oct. 1, 2004, when her surgeon told her she had breast cancer.
I think this is why, later, after I was home and telling my husband about it that I suddenly started crying. Tumor is just not a good word to hear, and it is even worse to hear when you are in a situation that is very similar to the one you were in when you found out your mom has cancer. And no, I haven’t told my mom that I broke down later.
I don’t have cancer. I have a few, not a lot, submucosal fibroids. Now it was up to me to decide what I wanted to do. My surgeon was prepared to let me take time to think about it. For instance, do I want more children? Um, I didn’t need to think about that one at all.
And so I am going to have surgery. Endometrial ablation to be exact. It will take care of my problem, and hopefully stop the growth of the fibroids.
The biggest challenge was scheduling the surgery. I work on campus two days a week, and one of those days just happens to be the day my surgeon usually does his surgeries. Although, there is one week when my surgeon is scheduling surgeries on a nonclass day. It sounded perfect until I heard the date: September 10, which is my wedding anniversary. No, I don’t want to have surgery on my anniversary.
So, surgery will be on a Tuesday, and my surgeon assures me that I should be able to be back in the classroom by Thursday. And it is early enough that I can build my day off into the syllabus.
Now you will have to excuse me while I go mumble a few choice words about my uterus. I may be holding a grudge.
Yeah, my uterus and I have had our moments, too. Like how it decided early on that it just wasn’t going to expel my fully cooked babies thus necessitating three c-sections. And then the wonky periods because, you know, regularity is over-rated. Then last fall, I guess it was bored and decided to take up gardening and grew a polyp. Had to have a D&C, which I was a big baby about. Argh.
Congrats on the weight loss, though! That’s great! I’ve been slowly losing now for about two years. Lost 40 pounds in the first ten months, then kind of plateaued for about eight but successfully maintained the loss, so I considered that a win. Now this summer I’ve lost another 10ish. I’ve still got about 40 more to go before I’m happy, but I gotta say, it feels really, really good. Wish I’d have had the motivation to do it a decade ago.