blustocking: (Default)
I'm 32 and my body is falling apart, through no fault of my own. I like to think I took pretty good care of it, so this must be genetics.

Stomach, shot to hell. I miss food. Fuck, I miss food. I hate feeling like puking or laying down much of the time. It's a severe quality of life issue, let me tell you. This is a constant fucking issue. And yet, the thing I'm most worried about now, is waking up after my surgery on Tuesday and not having my ovaries. Everyone I've talked to says their doctor said the same thing, "Well, I won't know until I'm in there." Yeah, that's fine, doc, but I'm telling you, unless the left one is BLACK AND SPITTING FIRE, LEAVE IT THERE. Give me the goddamned option, will ya? I know I'm not twenty-something with a husband, amazing career, and a house, but give me the fucking chance, will ya? I COULD NOT get him to guarantee he wouldn't touch the other ovary and that both makes me want to scream and cry. I'm terrified of losing them both. I know that's silly. I know there are plenty of babies to go around and I know that people go through worse things. But my goddamned stomach has made life difficult as of late and I really don't need to have to adjust to being infertile as well. I really don't. Give me that hope that I will find the right person and we will make another human being, as ill-advised in "this modern world" and selfish and absolutely terrifying it may seem, give me that option.

My sister had this done and they said the same thing to her. And because they found cancer, they took EVERYTHING out. I'm worried that's the genetic bit. I honestly haven't had any trouble with the left ovary, but you know, "I won't know until I get in there." And I'm 85-90% sure the left one is fine, but all I can think about is that other percentage, being unconscious and waking up sterile. Is it because it's an older male doctor? I repeatedly told him to leave me with an option, to leave the left one alone. And he tried to reassure me, tell me he's sure it's going to be fine, but when pressed he had to cover his ass with "I won't know until I get in there." All I could think about when driving home from the pre-operation meeting last Thursday was, "I'm alone, no boyfriend, no one to tell this to, and I'm going to wake up without the ability to experience that kind of love, all out of my control."

Fucking doctors. Doesn't work, take it out. Never trusted 'em.
I'm scared. I admit it. And I can't shake it. It's not going away.

May 2010

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