The Plan: part three

Well, cats and kittens, I have news.  It involves a lot of crossed fingers.

I was beginning to get frustrated with Bad-Ass Barbie.  She told me at my last appointment that she would be doing some research about surgical options, reproductive endocrinologists, and further tests that would be needed.  On my end I was asked to look at my schedule for the rest of 2009 and give her a time line of when i could be out.  She told me that she would get to be no later than a week out (Wednesday).  Well, Wednesday came and went.  Nothing.  I sent her the email from my end during lunch.  On my heath care's website i can see if my email messages have been read.  As of 3:00 yesterday afternoon, she had still not read my email and I had no message.  grrrr.

This morning, however, i had a notice in my email letting me know that i has a message waiting for me.  I was nervous....ready for the news...but nervous.

"Studies show better success with open procedures than laporoscopic. We will make a bikini incision and go in and remove the fibroid. I have done this type of surgery quite successfully before and look forward to getting this taken care of for you. Expect 1-2 days in the hospital, followed by 2 weeks no driving (6 weeks complete recovery). We might get you back into classes at 2-3 weeks post op but no heavy activity for 6 weeks."

OK.....lets go.  There are still a lot of logistics to figure out, though.  Can the surgery be done in the Portland area so I'm closer to my mom's house?  How the hell am I going to basically sit still for 2 weeks?!  (NO DRIVING.......ugh.)  What about work?  Who will supervise my staff, cover duty, hear my conduct meetings?  What about school?  Will my professors let me miss that many classes?  How many will i actually have to miss?

Hopefully this will be a simple procedure and nothing will be wonky.  I have been having dreams that they go to take the bag-of-fun out and find that they have to take everything out.  I know that those are just my fears talking and creeping into my brain, but it is still scary to think about.  Cross your fingers for smooth sailing!

Hopefully i will get scheduled for early November.  Before that i would have to give up my Ani DiFranco tickets (yeah right).  Much later than that and I risk not being well for Sarah's wedding (yeah right).  Cross your fingers for an appointment in Portland during the first week of November!

I will gladly be accepting visitors (and cookies).

I decided that i am going to get a "commemorative tattoo" once i am all healed....along with the visitors and cookies, any suggestions for tattoos are welcome.

The Start: walking out with a plan

I am counting down the days until Wednesday. Well, actually, I am counting down the hours and minutes and seconds until Wednesday. At 8am on the morning on the 26th, I will be sitting in a sterile doctor's office chatting with Bad-Ass Barbie about the 4.5" ball of weirdness that is inside of my uterus and my floppy ovary.
I am sitting on my couch, the Friday night before, frustrated with the lack of stories from women my age. I am facing a pool of unknowns and can not find resources or outlets or solace from women in my shoes. So, with Project Runway as my soundtrack, this blog is transforming into a space for me to document my journey with Polycycstic Ovarian Syndrome.

In late July, I went to my annual appointment with my gynecologist. It had actually been two years...mainly because I was scared.  Polycycstic Ovarian Syndrome runs in my family and my mother, noticing some symptoms in me, encouraged me to chat with my doctor about PCOS as a possible answer to my issues. Since I was 16, my period has been VERY irregular, cramps that knocked me out; i put on weight like it was my job and no matter what i tried i could not lose any weight; horrible acne; and my personal "favorite" excess hair, hirsutism. This symptom is, by far, the most difficult to deal with. I am constantly aware of my face and the male-pattern growth on my body; i do not, by any stretch of the imagination, feel feminine or pretty or desirable with black hairs sprouting where ever they want. When i start to think about this symptom and/or talk about it with friends, family, and medical professionals, i instantly well up and my heart gets lodged in my throat. I want, more than anything, to feel confident when i wake up in the morning....no make up...just my naked face.

When i went my doctor 2 years ago I chatted with her about PCOS and the possibility of a diagnosis for me. This doctor just told me i didn't have it. I was so ill-prepared to stand up for myself that i didn't push her to test my hormone levels or do ultrasounds. I took her non-diagnosis and left the office. Over the next two years, my periods were still rare but painful; the hair on my face was getting heavier and harder to deal with; and i started having more and more sharp, shooting, pains in my abdomen.

This spring i did more and more research on PCOS and made an appointment with a new doctor, a woman brand-new to Oregon with a Doctorate of Osteopathic Medicine. I decided that i was going to go into this appointment and not walk out without a plan and a diagnosis. I was positive that I have been living with PCOS for a few years and I had gotten to the point that not knowing was more damaging, mostly to my soul, than knowing and not doing anything about it. Without a confirmed diagnosis, i couldn't do anything to help myself.

I walked into my appointment on July 30 prepared to fight. I was the first appointment for the day so there was no waiting or stalling. My doctor walked in, dressed in head-to-toe bubblegum pink with blonde hair and one of the more glorious tans i had seen for a while. Immediately i thought, "oh fuck....Barbie's my gyno." We started talking about PCOS, my family's history, and my symptoms. Without hesitation, the doc looked at me and said, "You have it. There is no doubt in my mind. I can tell just by looking at you." At that point, i started crying....it was such a relief to be validated. I was such a relief to know that i would walk out with a plan. It was such a relief to know that it would get better....or at least more manageable.

As we chatted about PCOS, the doc said that (worst-case scenario) should she feel anything suspect, I would be going in for an ultrasound and we would do a full blood work-up.  if i have any cysts or growths or masses between 4 and 5 inches, we would "get aggressive." I wasn't totally sure what that meant or how that simple sentence could change the route of the rest of my 2009. During the exam, the doc looked up at me and said, with a puzzled look, "hunh...you have a very large uterus." Of course, my nervous humor took over. "Thanks," i said, as i flipped my hair.

The doc finished the exam, took her gloves off, and said, "well, Sarah....this is worst-case scenario. I don't like what i feel so we are going to get aggressive." I was set up with prescriptions as an attempt to even out my hormones, appointments were made for ultrasounds and a follow-up. I did what i planned to do.....I was walking out with a plan.