New Year, Same Issues
Most of the time I look forward to the new year and the hope it brings. This year I'm a little bit skeptical the bedroom situation will get better.
I finally went to the OB-Gyne when my period didn't arrive on schedule. Normally, I'm as regular as a calendar so two weeks of delay was too much. No, I'm not pregnant - as I informed one too many nurse and doctor. Even I'm not stupid enough to ask for an appointment without knowing if I was pregnant or not. Besides, it's impossible to get preggy without a sperm donor and that has not been on the menu for several months now (oh, don't get me started).
As it is, it's my PCOS (poly-cystic ovarian syndrome - it's when your eggs don't mature as planned and look like cysts) that's causing the hold-up. And the doctor casually added that the largest of my asymptomatic myomas has grown to the size of a small fist (and that I had two more grape-sized ones) and should be removed through surgery. She added that they don't necessarily affect my fertility since they're outside the uterine wall but just to make my pregnancy a bit more comfortable they should be removed. Oh, she said this nonchalantly, by the way.
So there I was, trying to nod and be as calm as the doctor was while inside I was panicking and thinking frantically "You want to cut me up to remove these things; I'll be forced to give birth through C-section and you want me to be calm?" I swear, if I wasn't so shocked I would've scratched her pretty preggy eyes out.
So I told everything to the H, stressing that there was nothing really wrong with me except the pesky PCOS and the optional myoma surgery. I could solve the PCOS with a round of Clomiphene - which might make the myoma larger. Or shrink the myoma through pills - which might aggravate the PCOS. Grrr. And throughout this exchange, the disinterested hubby (who still hasn't gone to a doctor to check his inability to get that thing up) just nodded his head and said he'll check the coverage with the HMO.
I know it's a guy thing not to admit there's anything wrong with him (err.... no decent sex for five years and there nothing wrong????) but maybe it's time to step back and think about someone else's welfare instead of his stupid pride. I'm the one being asked by the doctor to get cut up (the surgery is a major one). I'm the one being asked all these "when are you going to have a baby" questions and it's taking everything in my power not to yell "I don't know." Well, I've started referring all questions to the H. The next time someone asks me that question again, I am really going to be snarky and bitchy. I have done what I can. And I hate not having control over it.
I finally went to the OB-Gyne when my period didn't arrive on schedule. Normally, I'm as regular as a calendar so two weeks of delay was too much. No, I'm not pregnant - as I informed one too many nurse and doctor. Even I'm not stupid enough to ask for an appointment without knowing if I was pregnant or not. Besides, it's impossible to get preggy without a sperm donor and that has not been on the menu for several months now (oh, don't get me started).
As it is, it's my PCOS (poly-cystic ovarian syndrome - it's when your eggs don't mature as planned and look like cysts) that's causing the hold-up. And the doctor casually added that the largest of my asymptomatic myomas has grown to the size of a small fist (and that I had two more grape-sized ones) and should be removed through surgery. She added that they don't necessarily affect my fertility since they're outside the uterine wall but just to make my pregnancy a bit more comfortable they should be removed. Oh, she said this nonchalantly, by the way.
So there I was, trying to nod and be as calm as the doctor was while inside I was panicking and thinking frantically "You want to cut me up to remove these things; I'll be forced to give birth through C-section and you want me to be calm?" I swear, if I wasn't so shocked I would've scratched her pretty preggy eyes out.
So I told everything to the H, stressing that there was nothing really wrong with me except the pesky PCOS and the optional myoma surgery. I could solve the PCOS with a round of Clomiphene - which might make the myoma larger. Or shrink the myoma through pills - which might aggravate the PCOS. Grrr. And throughout this exchange, the disinterested hubby (who still hasn't gone to a doctor to check his inability to get that thing up) just nodded his head and said he'll check the coverage with the HMO.
I know it's a guy thing not to admit there's anything wrong with him (err.... no decent sex for five years and there nothing wrong????) but maybe it's time to step back and think about someone else's welfare instead of his stupid pride. I'm the one being asked by the doctor to get cut up (the surgery is a major one). I'm the one being asked all these "when are you going to have a baby" questions and it's taking everything in my power not to yell "I don't know." Well, I've started referring all questions to the H. The next time someone asks me that question again, I am really going to be snarky and bitchy. I have done what I can. And I hate not having control over it.
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