“Rolling down the street feeling endo, sipping fermented juice.” These are the words that rang through my head as I attempted to figure out what to call this post. You’re welcome.Â Not sure what I’m talking about? Check out this post to bring you up to speed!
The mass is endometria. And after waiting seven days to hear that and House’ing myself every which way I could and fighting with the demons in my head about the possibilities, I’m ecstatic.
Because it’s on my right side and because of how the tissue attaches itself to everything it can, I might end up losing my ovary. And I am so okay with that at this point. We won’t know until my doc lays eyes on it. I trust him, though and I know he will do the right thing for me.
I don’t have a date for the surgery yet. And I have lots of planning ahead to do since this time around I have a 45 pound mini-me that needs to be cared for while I recover. But I am shouting and dancing for joy. Why you ask? Am I crazy? No. When you have an illness that others can’t see, it’s difficult because no one really understands your level of pain or discomfort.
I just want to be pain free and get back to a normal life. Today my girl told me I was sick a lot when she attempted to throw herself on me after I had exerted myself at her field day and crawled into bed without being able to stand up straight from the pain. I think her words hurt more than what was going on in my abdomen.
It is 3 am. I type this from my cell phone as a heating pad attempts to relieve some of the pain. I was asleep by 9 and now find myself awake. Wanting to fold the laundry, pack for Seattle, write this post and being not so able. My brain wants to go but my body is at a standstill. I will miss my ovary if it has to go but I want to get back to an active life where I’m not in this much pain.
Baby, Baby, Baby
As far as other babies are concerned (because some of you have already asked)? At 26 my chances of reproducing went down to like 60% with the diagnosis. And because of the way the disease works, that percentage should’ve dropped a little each year thereafter. I had the frog princess at 34. So I’m here to tell you that if God means for me to have another child, He don’t need no stinkin’ right ovary to make it happen.
I’m leaving that, along with some other thangs, in His hands. Thanks to those of you that have been praying for me. Your words have held me up and kept me balanced these last couple of weeks. Despite this diagnosis, I am feeling incredibly happy and just filled with love and gratitude for so many things.
Let’s see if we can get my body to match my spirit in the coming months.