Its official
I really wasn't looking forward to my hospital appointment on Thursday. I'm not sure why. Maybe it was because it wasn't that long ago that I was there. Or perhaps it was because I knew the scan was going to be uncomfortable and likely to cause me more pain. I don't know. But I knew I was dreading it. I felt nerves that I hadn't had since my operation but naturally I told myself everything was going to be fine...
We got to the hospital early and sat outside in the sunshine for a few minutes before heading up to the ward where my scan was being done. It always feels a bit wrong as an outpatient going to the ward, its where women are at their most vulnerable. Whether they are recovering from surgery or have been admitted for other reasons, its not a nice place to be. I guess its because I can relate to being there and how I felt at the time. The three times I've been on that ward have certainly ingrained that feeling into my brain, and if I could never go back on that ward again, it wouldn't be an issue!
I checked in at the reception and was quickly redirected back downstairs to the gynaecology department as the scans had been relocated for the day. This is where it first went wrong. I'm not sure who designed my local hospital but putting the gynaecology department next to the pregnancy department is just cruel. As I sat waiting, I saw numerous happy couples attending scans, and appointments. Naturally you feel a sense of joy for them but its very quickly joined by jealousy. To rub salt even deeper into the wounds, we were sat next to the juno suite, otherwise known as the delivery suite. Oh yes, we got to partake in the tour that was being given to the expectant parents, along with hearing whether it was their first, second, third etc child. If I didn't want to be there already, I really didn't want to be there now!
Finally 45 minutes late, I was called in for my appointment. My consultant greeted me and we instantly started talking about my situation. Considering I only saw him 3 weeks ago, we were back discussing my options. Or rather my lack of them. It became apparent that I wasn't going to have a scan like I was booked in to have. I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe today wasn't going to be so bad after all. We discussed my referrals to urology and the unregistered drugs we spoke about before. I could see his frustrations at needing and wanting to help me which is surprisingly nice. At least that way you know you really have explored every avenue possible. But then he said something I wasn't expecting.
"I think we should put you on the waiting list for a hysterectomy now". I think I was a bit stunned. To be honest, I didn't think after my last appointment that we were there yet but I think he recognised we were at the absolute bottom of the barrel and we had nowhere to go. I could see his disappointment. Even as he sat dictating the letter for his secretary, hearing the words a second time didn't help them sink in. He was watching me closely as he spoke into the microphone, I just sat and stared at the desk, before looking up and smiling at him, trying to reassure him, and myself, that I was OK. The rest of the appointment was a bit of a blur, talking about the three different types of hysterectomies, and it wasn't long before I was walking back out of the room, and down the corridor to where my Mum was waiting for me. I'm not sure why, but I smiled as I said to her that I was on the waiting list. Maybe it was to stop the tears. Maybe it was just because its what I do. But I felt numb inside. What had just happened?!
So here we are 4 days later, and I'm writing this. I'm still not sure I know what happened! I've stuck my head in the sand since and put a smile on my face. But in reality behind closed doors, I've shed plenty of tears since Thursday. I've had opportunities to talk, and to tell people how I'm feeling but I've chosen not to. Even those closest to me. I can't say the words I'm feeling because I don't want to face how devastated I am, or how numb I feel. I don't want to tell them about the huge amount of sadness I have for myself, and the guilt that follows for feeling that way. I don't want to ask the questions like why me and how is this fair, when I know they can't answer them. And probably the biggest reason, for my pride at least, is I don't want to break down on anyone and expect them to pick up the pieces of a blubbering wreck.
I know its been a long time coming, but I'm not sure I was prepared for my heart to feel this broken...
A x
We got to the hospital early and sat outside in the sunshine for a few minutes before heading up to the ward where my scan was being done. It always feels a bit wrong as an outpatient going to the ward, its where women are at their most vulnerable. Whether they are recovering from surgery or have been admitted for other reasons, its not a nice place to be. I guess its because I can relate to being there and how I felt at the time. The three times I've been on that ward have certainly ingrained that feeling into my brain, and if I could never go back on that ward again, it wouldn't be an issue!
I checked in at the reception and was quickly redirected back downstairs to the gynaecology department as the scans had been relocated for the day. This is where it first went wrong. I'm not sure who designed my local hospital but putting the gynaecology department next to the pregnancy department is just cruel. As I sat waiting, I saw numerous happy couples attending scans, and appointments. Naturally you feel a sense of joy for them but its very quickly joined by jealousy. To rub salt even deeper into the wounds, we were sat next to the juno suite, otherwise known as the delivery suite. Oh yes, we got to partake in the tour that was being given to the expectant parents, along with hearing whether it was their first, second, third etc child. If I didn't want to be there already, I really didn't want to be there now!
Finally 45 minutes late, I was called in for my appointment. My consultant greeted me and we instantly started talking about my situation. Considering I only saw him 3 weeks ago, we were back discussing my options. Or rather my lack of them. It became apparent that I wasn't going to have a scan like I was booked in to have. I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe today wasn't going to be so bad after all. We discussed my referrals to urology and the unregistered drugs we spoke about before. I could see his frustrations at needing and wanting to help me which is surprisingly nice. At least that way you know you really have explored every avenue possible. But then he said something I wasn't expecting.
"I think we should put you on the waiting list for a hysterectomy now". I think I was a bit stunned. To be honest, I didn't think after my last appointment that we were there yet but I think he recognised we were at the absolute bottom of the barrel and we had nowhere to go. I could see his disappointment. Even as he sat dictating the letter for his secretary, hearing the words a second time didn't help them sink in. He was watching me closely as he spoke into the microphone, I just sat and stared at the desk, before looking up and smiling at him, trying to reassure him, and myself, that I was OK. The rest of the appointment was a bit of a blur, talking about the three different types of hysterectomies, and it wasn't long before I was walking back out of the room, and down the corridor to where my Mum was waiting for me. I'm not sure why, but I smiled as I said to her that I was on the waiting list. Maybe it was to stop the tears. Maybe it was just because its what I do. But I felt numb inside. What had just happened?!
So here we are 4 days later, and I'm writing this. I'm still not sure I know what happened! I've stuck my head in the sand since and put a smile on my face. But in reality behind closed doors, I've shed plenty of tears since Thursday. I've had opportunities to talk, and to tell people how I'm feeling but I've chosen not to. Even those closest to me. I can't say the words I'm feeling because I don't want to face how devastated I am, or how numb I feel. I don't want to tell them about the huge amount of sadness I have for myself, and the guilt that follows for feeling that way. I don't want to ask the questions like why me and how is this fair, when I know they can't answer them. And probably the biggest reason, for my pride at least, is I don't want to break down on anyone and expect them to pick up the pieces of a blubbering wreck.
I know its been a long time coming, but I'm not sure I was prepared for my heart to feel this broken...
A x
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