The Eternal Guest Room

Ah, today. Historically I have not been at my best. Three years ago today I became an aunt, and I was devastated. Nine months ago we did an IUI and the charting software told me that if it worked, my due date would be April 1. I decided that it was either Fate, or the Universe was playing a cruel joke on me.

April Fools Day can suck it.

Last month was our first month to “try on our own” after surgery. The charting software told me: “If you conceived this cycle, your due date would be: December 10, 2011.”

My birthday.

I would be lying to all of you if I told you I hadn’t gotten my hopes up. What a stupid, stupid thing, right? Conceiving naturally after 4 years? Of course, everyone knows someone whose aunt’s friend’s daughter-in-law’s boyfriend’s grandmother’s church buddy’s son’s best friend’s estranged wife etc. got pregnant miraculously after 18 years; but in reality, the odds are pretty slim.

Of course, today those hopes were crushed. Today of all days.

But of course, it really doesn’t matter. A long time ago I gave up the idea of Fate, or Signs, or Whatever.

For years I told myself: “Before Baby (fill in the blank) is born, I will have one on the way.” Or: “By the time Baby (fill in the blank) is (fill in the blank with years: 1, 2, 3), I will have my own, or at least be expecting one.”

What a silly game that was.

So in honor of today, and in the spirit of moving forward and saying “Whatever,” I give you these: The Long Awaited, Ever-So-Exciting, Much Asked About, Pictures of my Uterus! With my Polyp friend, of course.

Just a warning: the photos are kind of gross. So if you don’t want to see them, you should probably just move along and come back another day. But I’ve had so many requests and so much interest that I almost feel like I have to share them.

So here they are.

This is the “before” picture: where you can see the polyp:

The doctor drew in that black line to give it more definition for my benefit (I’m sure I looked confused and uncertain).

And for comparison, here is last year’s polyp:

Ew. Right? Ew.

The polyp is on my left side. This is what my right side looked like:

See that hole? That’s where my fallopian tube is. True story.

Now see this other view of the left side?

See how you can’t see any tube opening? Yeah. That is a problem. The doctor thinks the polyp was most likely blocking my tube. And for anyone who isn’t totally sure how all this works: eggs come out and sperms go up the tubes. They’re pretty crucial. So having one blocked is a serious problem.

One more view:

And here’s where it gets really awesome. Here’s the “Mid-surgery” photo: the instrument up my business taking out my abnormal growth. Hot, right?

Ew.

And this just might be the most disgusting picture of all of them. Here is the polyp, after it was removed. Yeah; that’s the polyp sitting on the operating table, or wherever. I’m not sure what that is in the background and I try not to think of it too much.

Ew ew ew.

To give you a frame of reference, the doctor said it was about the size of his pinkie. A uterus is about the size of a fist. “Pinkie-sized” honestly doesn’t sound all that big to me, but he kept saying, “It was really large; about the size of my pinkie,” so I guess that’s not too normal.

The really disturbing part is that this polyp wasn’t nearly as big as the first one.

And lastly, here’s a photo of the “after.” I can’t remember what the bubbles are, but this is what my uterus looked like immediately after the polyp was removed:

My doctor seemed most concerned about the fact that the polyp was blocking my left tube, along with the fact that it was so large.

I had the same surgery 13 months prior to this one. I think it grew back right away; within 6 months, at least. Which means we did all or all-but-one IUI with a polyp in there. It showed up on a saline sonogram as a “thickened area” of my lining. But it was there. I know it was. I’m pissed on one hand that it’s been missed so many times, but relieved on the other that it is now on the radar and the doctor will take me seriously when I express concern. We’ll be getting it checked out in May or June to make sure it hasn’t returned. We will not pursue any treatment without making absolutely sure that it is not there.

Next week we are getting D’s swimmers tested. The last time we knew how they were was December (for our Most Pointless IUI Yet). Since then, D has been going to weekly acupuncture sessions and making lifestyle and dietary changes. I am holding my breath and hoping that there has been some improvement since then. If not, it has been a tremendous waste of money.

It would be really nice to get some good news. Today, I am discouraged. I’m flat-out terrified that there will be no improvement. In fact, I’m scared that they have somehow gotten worse.

But I hope I’m wrong. I hope we get some good news. It would be nice to have some good news. Nice to have some hope.

A lot of things don’t seem to work out in my favor in this whole mess, but sometimes I get lucky. We already had an appointment scheduled to meet with our doctor today, so we didn’t have to wait any longer to get some answers about the polyp junk. It was nice to sit down with him and have all of our questions answered; last time we were just so unprepared and blindsided that our pre-surgery appointment was a 60-second blur. Part of that was because we just weren’t all that comfortable asking our old doctor questions. New Doctor is so much more approachable and likable. So we asked our questions, and he answered them.

What causes polyps? No one really knows. Why do I keep getting them, even though they’re usually seen in 40-50 year old women? Dunno, but it’s actually fairly common in infertility patients. Why did it come back? No telling.

It’s in the same place as the previous polyp, so basically the old one grew back somehow. It’s not as big as the last one, but it is pretty close to one of my tubes, and therefore could be preventing eggs/sperms/embryos to get to where they need to go. Plus it takes up prime implantation real estate. They’ve also been shown to increase the chance of miscarriage, so you really want to get rid of them.

I need to wait for the hospital scheduler to call me, but it’s very likely that the surgery will be scheduled for February 17. They do all of their surgeries on Thursday afternoons. It’ll be just like last time, except at a different hospital. He told us that this hospital is better – newer, with better equipment, and muffins. I just spent a chunk of time reading our insurance book, and I don’t want to get ahead of myself or jinx myself, but it sounds like the surgery *might* be covered at 100%. Might. Which is a hell of a lot better than the $1700 we spent last time. Again, I might be wrong – really, who can decipher those insurance books?? – but I’m hoping I’m right. I’ve actually gotten pretty good at understanding insurance. Fortunately and unfortunately.

We will have to wait 3 months after surgery to pursue IVF. Not, as they told us last time, to give me time to heal, but because insurance mandates the 3-month waiting period. Even though insurance won’t cover a dime of the actual treatment costs and medications, they will pay for the occasional doctor’s office visit and bloodwork, so that 3 month waiting period is a must. Don’t get me started on insurance and health care.

I’m coping with the new turn of events better than I was yesterday, but still, it totally sucks. Even if we don’t have to pay for the surgery, surgery sucks. Last time I was miserable for days. Surgery itself was terrifying. Recovery was worse than I expected. I was in pain for awhile. It was just not fun. To say that I’m not looking forward to it is a huge understatement.

I’ll have another office hysterscopy to endure at the end of the three months. The doctor said they usually don’t do that, but given my history and concerns he thought it was a good idea. I didn’t say much about it yesterday, but it sucked. It hurt. It felt like it lasted forever, even though it was just a few minutes. My insides were up on a screen, live and on-camera. D looked at the screen, but I kept my eyes closed, trying to pretend I wasn’t there. I couldn’t stand to look – it just looked so gross, and I didn’t want to see it. I thought that my first hysterscopy would be my one and only, but now I know that I will have at least 2 of each kind. Four hysteroscopies total.

This better be worth it.