I do apologize for not posting this sooner, but I’ve been either busy, babysitting, or tired. Better late than never, yes?
I had to get up before the sun Friday morning because my appointment was at 8:30. Then I sat here and waffled over taking either the 7:30 bus or the 8am bus. I opted for the 8am so I wouldn’t have to stand outside waiting for the building to open. Now I’ve been to this clinic enough since February of last year that they’ve learned my face when I come in; eventually I’m sure they’ll know my name when they see me, too. I had to wait a little bit longer than I usually would have – the surgeon I was there to see hadn’t arrived by my appointment time.
He came in, young* and very friendly; he asked questions, and he listened well – and took a lot of notes. Mostly I was there so we could meet each other. He needed to know what’s going on with my body, and we had to make the decision of what needed to be done and how (which also determined the hospital). He said, “I’ve read through your chart, but we’re going to go through it together.” Good thing I’ve only been at that clinic since February of last year. Even so, I do have a good, detailed history in there. He said, “I’ll read and ask questions, and you can give me the details.”
And we did. I admit, I was nervous going in there. I was afraid of a repeat of the yelling and screaming I had with Dr Penn a few weeks ago. I was all prepared to scream and yell some more and demand to have Dr Dillon come in and tell him a thing or three – preferably with Dr Penn in tow so she could hear all of it, too. But I never had to raise my voice even one time. He asked questions, and I gave him all the details. Maybe too many in some places, but he did take copious notes the whole way through, so I saw that as a plus. He made sure he understood everything I was telling him.
Why can’t all medical professionals be like this? Hey world, take note of this!
Then we got down to the nitty gritty. He asked me, “Why are you pushing so hard to have a hysterectomy.”
I thought, Well, here we go, and braced myself for an argument that never happened. So I plunged in, let him have it, told him exactly how I feel and why. I told him I’m tired of quick fixes, that it seems like that’s all I’ve ever had, that I can’t keep living like this, that I was done having babies twenty-one years ago, my tubes have been tied for twenty-one years, Preston and I have been together for twenty years. I just went on like I had complete diarrhea of the mouth. But it’s all true. I’m sick of all the pain and the blood and shouldn’t have ever had to have lived with it as long as I have.
Then he looked up at me with one eye almost closed, the other eyebrow raised high, and a half-smile on his face, and said, “I guess we’re not going to talk about ablation, then.”
I said, “No, we’re not.”
He said, “Okay, then we need to see what kind of hysterectomy we’re doing, right?”
I said, “I’m not leaving here without that.”
We smiled at each other.
He and I discussed the DaVinci robotic hysterectomy, which I mentioned before as being what Dr Penn thought would be the easiest on my system. He and Dr Penn have apparently discussed this together and both agree on that. Dr Penn is going to assist this surgeon so she can get more training with the robot. (yay, i’m a guinea pig!) The surgery is scheduled at UK Hospital on the morning of August 20th. I won’t be able to give anyone an exact time I’ll be going in until I see Dr Penn again on August 14th. But it’s all settled now, and now all I can do is sit and twiddle my thumbs for two months.
* i found out today via web search that he’s 34. he’s been out of school completely only two years.