Content Warning: This post is for women only. Men read at your own risk. I’m talking about girl parts today.
Women are funny creatures, we’ll either spill our guts and tell you more than you ever wanted to know or we become so stinkin’ private it’s a wonder any of us know where babies come from. We are at times polite and modest to a fault. And we are at times honest to a fault. I’m not saying that’s wrong, I’m just saying that sometimes it is helpful to know things beyond who did your hair or how much you hate my new dress.
Case in point. When I went to the hospital last week, I thought something was truly, seriously wrong with me. Turns out that one in four women develop fibroids in their life time. Not to be crass, but you’d think at 44, I’d know what those are. “Female problems” aren’t something that run in my family. No one has ever had issue beyond early menopause. I am now learning that several of my friends and extended family have lived with fibriods and eventually had hysterectomies, but I didn’t know that last week.
I do know that my Great Grandmother died from cervical cancer at the age of 86 and I know that she’d had a hysterectomy when she was in her 50’s – but the why behind it went to the grave with her. No one knows. Her cervical cancer went undetected because she never had another pap smear after that.
Fibroids were always something women get in their breasts, not… well… elsewhere. And fibroids were something that was maybe the size of a small pea or maybe a quarter, but not so big that I would be deemed the size of a woman in her 22nd week of pregnancy. Having the emergency room doctor describe my new friend as something that “could be a fibroid, could be a cyst, or it could be cancer, we don’t know right now.” Did not help my heart or my over active imagination. I’ll let you guess which word I focused on.
I’ve also learned that they develop over time and that most women live with them until they get troublesome. Mine has reached troublesome. Why no one found it before now, is still a mystery to me.
For those who have been following my health detour, I saw the surgeon today.
Today’s doctor visit went really well. I like my new doctor and my husband even went with me. There were some glitches, like the fact that my primary never sent him my file or the films or the lab results. This after my hounding her office for three days to get them to process the referral in the first place. Typical really of that office.
I’m changing primaries after this is over.
My new doctor is warm and kind, a surgeon, strong women’s health advocate, and practical. He stated that statistics show there is an 80% chance this is just a benign fibroid, that 1 in 4 women get them in their life time and until tests show it to be something else he’ll stick with that diagnosis. He also reserves the right to change his prognosis once all lab results are in. Yes, it seems “big” by my standards but in his line of work he’s “seen worse.”
Another bonus is he saw the humor in my naming it and doesn’t think I’m wierd for doing that at all; at least not to my face.
He seems more concerned by the polyp on my cervix than the mass in my uterus. I didn’t know about the polyp either. Biopsies were taken for both and I’ll know the results when I go back to see him on the 28th.
I have regular female exams, so these things are new occurances this year. I’m not happy about the timeing. Jeff just lost his mom last month, I don’t want to be down right now. We have trips planned and summer arriving. I’m stubborn, and I have work to do.
I’m not sure what lessons are ahead or what I’ll learn from all this, but like it or not, I have down time coming up. Today, I’m learning to accept the gifts that can be found in that.
My question for you guys: How do you handled seemingly forced down times? How hard is it for you to let go of your plans and surrender to what is?