Will it be
1) a two-day hospital stay, open incision, two weeks off of work jobbie?
2) an outpatient, lap/hysteroscopy, back-to-work-on-Monday type deal?
That depends on whether you ask my OB/GYN or my RE. Personally, I’m voting for option number two. As a matter of fact, I’m less than thrilled with my OB/GYN right now for more than one reason. I know Dr. B has my best interests at heart, but sometimes the words that come out of his mouth are less than supportive. “I’ll try to leave as much of your ovaries as I can.” “No, we can’t wait until after your vacation. You might experience Ovarian Torsion, and then it would become an emergency.” “An incision this big, six weeks till you’re fully back to 100%.” “Slim chance, but we have to rule out ovarian cancer.”
Yes, he went there. I’ve done my research, and I’ve read multiple times that elevated C125 levels should not be used as a diagnostic indicator for ovarian cancer. He fully admitted that it’s most likely the cysts on my ovaries or the fibroids hanging out in my uterus causing the elevated levels. In fact, most of what he’s blathering about are worst-case scenarios. And while I appreciate he has to tell me these things, TELL ME they’re worst-case scenarios WHILE YOU’RE TELLING ME ABOUT THEM. For crying out loud, is that so hard???
Perhaps in an attempt redeem his beside manner, he did try to ask in a caring tone, “How do you *feel* about having the surgery?”
I looked at him with a rather blank stare and told him I was less than excited, but if that’s what I have to do to get pregnant, then so be it. He then politely informed me that it was really more of a medical necessity, not just a fertility issue. In that case, it doesn’t really matter how I *feel* about having the surgery, does it?
To end this rather whiny, complaining blog entry on a much happier note, I scored a 6.2 on my FSH test. Boooya! I know, most of you are probably wondering what that number means. Well, I’ll tell you what it means. That means I have the egg reserve of a shiny, happy, pimple-faced twenty-something-year-old chickie, folks!
No dusty eggs for me!