The rest of August has been centered around getting rid of this growth found on my left ovary this summer, naturally, of course, in the middle of a pandemic.
Originally the pelvic pain had me concerned the possibility of bone tumors was at play, since we still don't have any explanation over that fractured pelvis from late 2017, and bone cancer (as the origin of cancer, not as metastasis) is notoriously slow growing. Maybe after two years, a scan would show something?
Nope. Went back in to Dr. X, did the x-ray where he wasn't sure if he could spot anything, sent me for an MRI, went back for those results, only to have the report show all clear on bone anomalies.
BUT, the MRI doc wrote and then noted he was also calling Dr. X about it, there was something going on over there on that left ovary. (The scan was for the right pelvis near the fractured/healed bone.
So back to the gynecologist I went.
The irony here is that's where I'd started some 7 years prior with pelvic/hip pain only to be sent over to Dr. X for hip surgery in 2015. So after a five year stent with him for hip repair and pelvic fracture, time to ping pong back over to the gynecologist
Dr. Watt who did the hysterectomy surgery is in a practice with about half a dozen other female docs. She didn't have availability as soon as Dr. Abman, so I took the first available, and met with her in early July. Did another ultrasound, got measurements, and was told to come back in a month for more to see if it had grown.
In the interim, I took an amazing road trip up the Pacific Coast and tried not to worry.
At the start of August, on the follow up, another ultrasound, and a referral to Dr. James, gynecological oncologist, to do the surgery in the event the growth/tumor/cyst/"complicated mass" needed to be staged, which wouldn't happen if I had Dr. Abman doing the removal. Dr. James also has done more than 1000 robotic surgeries that give him better abilities to clean out what they both expected to find from the complications from the hysterectomy - a ton of scan tissue in the area.
So I met with Dr. J exactly once, all behind masks of course, with feet in between us, like all the other appointments (as much as possible) on a Monday and found myself scheduled for surgery 10 days later, first of the day on August 20.
The general plan was to get in there, remove the left ovary and fallopian tubes, make sure the growth was benign, and get out. But of course, you have to sign off on the worst case scenario, too. If he got in there and found cancer, it could be when I woke up I'd be split open vertically with everything in the area removed down to lymphatic stuff and facing chemotherapy and/or radiation post-op from a recovery time that would stretch into months. Yeah, that doesn't keep anyone up at night.
Had to do a drive through COVID test two days prior, so on my lunch hour I got over there just ahead of the 1:00-3:00 window I'd signed up for and was second in line. The minivan in front of me wasn't there for the driver as it turned out. Mom got out and slid the van door open to a car seat. Poor little guy was getting some kind of surgery that week and was already being traumatized by men in these full blue space suit looking things, jamming stuff up to the very back of his nostrils. Little dude SCREEAMMMED bloody murder.
When it was my turn, I told them the only promise I could make was I wouldn't be that loud.
Two days later, I checked in at 5:30 in the morning and was off to the races.
Get in, go through the temp check and mask change, answer the questions at a distance, sign off on check-in, wait to be led from this unusual area (the Spine Surgery Center, which was where I had the hip surgery done five years ago) through the back channels of the hospital into the surgery pre-op.
My pre-op nurse was Elaine (not sure of the spelling, but so easy to remember from Seinfeld) who actually lives in the neighborhood adjacent to mine and whose house I pass on one route home from the dog park.
She gave me a surgical glove with hot water in it to warm up my veins for the poking.
There were quite a few things on the pre-op list we had to knock out before Dr. J showed up, including a chest xray and an EKG, blood work, blah blah blah.
I mentioned the anesthesiologist had not called the night prior and Elaine said that he probably had taken a look at his list and only called the people who were the most worrisome. All of my medical stuff is basically a million "no" answers to everything problematic.
He came in and asked about past experiences with anesthesia and I told him the only worry was the horrible nausea I'd experienced after the hysterectomy. He nodded and prescribed this transdermal scopolamine patch that Elaine put behind my ear as we were talking. "Don't touch this and then touch your eyes!" was the regular warning I heard from both of them as well as the post-op nurse. Yikes.
He said to Elaine, 1-2 (he didn't say milligrams or whatever) of Versed, dealer's choice. Elaine, with whom I'd gotten to be quite friendly said, "2 it is" and he left while she prepped the IV push. My surgical nurse came in and went over a couple of things while Elaine got the sleepy stuff going, and things got fuzzy pretty quickly. I recall the bed ride to the OR, entering the operating room filled with this space age looking stuff and giant metal arms all over the place, and then nothing else until waking.
When I opened my eyes and saw the clock showing 9:15, I already had the 'benign" answer, but was relieved to hear it from my post-op nurse.
This surgery was WAYYYY less invasive than the hysterectomy, and pretty interesting, once you aren't worried about all the other stuff. Three little incisions, a little over an hour on the table, where they fill your belly with carbon dioxide and the doctor isn't actually anywhere near you, because you are practically buried under all those robotic arms.
By 11:00 that morning I was in my own bed, with flowers from Nick & Ali (& Pickles & Olive, per the card) and Eeyore, whom I had taken along remembering the agonizing ride home from the hysterectomy. What a difference!
My follow up appointment isn't until Sept. 2, and my main interest at that appointment is to decipher all of the scribbling on the photos I was sent home with that I'm not completely certain about.
While there's a ton going on inside, not too much on the outside, just three bloody little steristrips!
I had brought out the hospital table from the mothballs so I'd be able to resume work from bed the next day. The rest of Thursday was just sleeping and taking pain meds, which I could pretty much stop completely by the weekend. And having furry visitors.
Bru was a companion until Saturday when Mom and Dad came to visit and bring Regal's kitty condo for Bru to enjoy. And this is pretty much where he stays all the time now.
Between Aidan, Eeyore, and Jake, we will up the king size bed!
Other than not lifting anything over 10 pounds, I am back to normal already and very grateful this wasn't worse, or even anywhere close to the nightmare of recovery 10 years ago.
