As I write this, I am sitting in my little sick bed having survived the worst ever experience of my life. I have a terrible terrible phobia of hospitals, needles and frankly all things medical. I survived the birth of both my kids as a result of Cognitive Behavioural Therapy, the thought of the fantastic thing I would get at the end and the fact that I really didn’t have much say in the matter.
This operation has been hanging over my head since the month after I found I was pregnant with Fifi. You see, at 8 weeks pregnant I rushed to the doctors after collapsing on the floor in absolute excruciating agony. The doctor thought I might be having an ectopic pregnancy and sent me for a scan. At this scan, they saw a little bean, but they also saw this cyst. Throughout the pregnancy it got bigger and bigger, which I think is partially caused by hormones. I suffered really bad acne rosace, bloating, tummy cramps and back ache. A lot of the symptoms are quite similar to IBS which I also have so I have literally just been getting on with it. In fact, if I hadn’t had a pregnancy scan, no-one would have known that I would have had it. Therein, a warning for anyone with similar symptoms!
I’ve been living with the positive thought that it might just go away, I might not need an operation. However, a fair few weeks ago I was told that it was full of blood, a hemorrhagic cyst. The cyst was bigger than 5 cm and could rupture, twist and move around causing an inevitable ambulance ride. With 2 kids to consider and the possibility of and A & E doctor being set loose on my bits I didn’t have a choice. I had to endure surgery. The method they used was a laproscopy. The thought of it was frightening. A camera through my belly button and incisions along the rough line where I would have had a C-section.
Friday came, I was a mess, tranquilisers helped and they shoved me into my own room. Mainly so I couldn’t see the old ladies in the Gynae ward undergoing medical procedures whilst I was waiting. One stroppy NHS anaesthetist who had no patience and was huffing and puffing, moaning about paperwork whilst she put me under (thanks God she wasn’t the last thing I saw on earth) and it was done. I remember coming to and then drifting off and coming to. Then at one point my consultant appeared and said she had signed my discharge paperwork as she knew how distressed I get in hospital. Then in a blur, I got dressed and literally stumbled in a daze to the car. OMG I felt ill. It hurts, the painkillers are helping. I was told that I can sleep on my side but its not all that comfortable, so I keep passing out on my back. But, all said, if you need have it done in the future, can I just reassure you and say that if I can manage it, you can.
At the moment, I just have to stop the kids jumping on my tummy, try to remove the bandages and make sure that I make the most of it, well at least a little bit. I mean, I’ve been needing a rest for at least 2 years. Its an extreme way to get one, but it seems to be working.