Goodbye, Pear of Doom

Well, it would seem that my uterus truly wanted to force the issue of her departure.

Since the confirmation two Mondays ago that my surgical procedure failed to keep my stubborn lining at bay, I found myself feeling WRONG. Bloated, squishy, and by the end of the week disturbingly like I did when stimming, or more like when I hyperstimulated. I felt like my reproductive organs were suspended in jelly. I felt like my ovaries where navel oranges. I had difficulty walking normally, and my lower right when pain was increasing by the day.

I went to Pilates that Thursday evening, and couldn't bring my knees anywhere near my stomach. I was in tears. I figured I'd call my doctor in the morning, because this couldn't be normal.

I made it through the first part of the morning, breathing funny and walking funny and feeling tremendous pressure on my cervix and blaster but having difficulty actually peeing.

And then the pain just got worse.
And worse.
And worse.

I felt like my insides were exploding. It was unbearable, and I couldn't put a brave face on any more. I called my doctor's office and told them how bad the pain was, and they told me to come in ASAP.

I tried to pull it together. I failed.

A friend saw me hunched over and crying, and when I said I was going to the doctor she insisted that I sit down, and basically forbade me to drive myself. I cried and said I could do it, I had to get there before they closed at noon, but I could barely get a few words in before the pain had me gasping, and so I had to give in.

Which was ultimately a good thing. I am embarrassed, because another friend offered to drive me but needed to clear leaving the building, and so the nurse was called and am administrator was called and a Hold In Place drop was enacted to clear the house so I could be transported sans gawkers in a wheelchair to the driveway and into my friend's car.

I figured it out; this is the FOURTH time in there years I have been in that freaking chair.

Also, it turns out that it is highly entertaining to say the words uterus, cervix, and blood in front of a male administrator. And horrifying.

I got to the doctor's office in time, and they were horrified with my state. The trapped blood was passing through the scarred up tissue, and I was basically in labor. The nurse practitioner later told me she wished she'd taken a picture of me, as I was the perfect example of what 10 out of 10 pain looks like.

Basically, they gave me painkillers and sedatives and said I had to ride it out, but loopy and largely unconscious. They asked when I was scheduling my repeat procedure with the IUD.

I may have said that option was way, WAY off the table.

Goodbye, Pear of Doom.

If this could happen again, I want no part of it.

I cry Uncle. I scream UNCLE at the top of my lungs.

I am done with things passing through my cervix into my poor abused and vengeful womb.

I am done with trying to make nice and keep an organ that clearly has no idea how to coexist peacefully work the rest of my body. That didn't do the one thing it was meant to do, and then just keeps kicking my psyche with stilettos on.

I went back to work last Tuesday, finally free of pain for this cycle but crushed under the weight of IEP writing that could not get done while unconscious or altered, and started my week knowing that I will be having major surgery by early April at the latest.

Is it weird that I really, REALLY want it to be in April 1st? I feel that would be so very appropriate.

I am looking forward to this chapter being done. I am looking forward to (hopefully) no longer having to leave school in an emergency, scaring Bryce and disrupting his day, too. He was supposed to go to San Diego for a conference, and he cancelled -- which I was super grateful for as I couldn't be on my own and hopped up on painkillers, and he didn't know if I was going in for surgery that day, and when I am in that kind of pain I'm sort of like a forest animal, wanting to be alone in my cozy den but with my mate there to lick my face from time to time. So grateful, but also guilty to disrupt a conference where he was supposed to speak.

My consult is Friday, and I'll have my date then. I'll be out of work for at least a month, but I have a lovely long term sub lined up who knows my kids from elementary school.

I will have a sort of forced rest, which although not quite the same as a celebrity retreat, will be in its own way a welcome pause on this crazy stressful school year. I have a stockpile of books and cute pajamas. I have a month of backed up issues of PEOPLE magazines. I have wonderful people who have offered to come help with the house and keep me company while Bryce is at work.

It's going to be okay, after what seems like a lifetime of of SO NOT OKAY. Just another thing I have to say ENOUGH to in order to move forward with what is otherwise a wonderful life.