Our 5 little embryos are chilling on ice while we wait for PGS results, and our adoption agency graciously gave us time to get those results (and, if we're being honest, frantically finish unpacking and organizing our apartment - shhhhh) before we move forward with our home study. So, right now we are in the waiting cycle again with nothing to think about besides whether or not to surgically remove my possibly subserosal, possibly transmural, possibly both? uterine fibroid before doing a transfer. In other words, a perfect time for a Time Turner post.
Chapter Two: Surgery
Honestly, there isn't much to say about the surgery. It was fairly quick, out-patient, with a recovery time of just 2-3 days before I could go back to normal life and a little less than two weeks until I felt completely back to normal. They removed the endometrioma covering my right ovary, lots of endometriosis, and a uterine septum, which alone made the surgery worth it. Many people don't find out they have a septum until they've been failing to get pregnant or losing pregnancies for awhile. They also checked out a fibroid that had looked concerning on the ultrasound, and they decided that the risks of removing it were greater than the risks of leaving it in since it wasn't causing symptoms and it wasn't located in a place that would impact fertility. If you've read this blog before, you know this fibroid has turned into the bane of my existence.
The best part of surgery was that the bed they had me in while I waited for surgery and recovered was heated, with heated sheets and a weighted blanket, so it was the most comfortable anxiety-ridden day ever. The worst part was the moment they wheeled me in and about 15 mask-covered faces swarmed around me, moving my arms and legs like I was a doll. But then I was out! And, finally, the intake nurse was kind and gentle, while the outtake nurse was rude, abrasive, and practically dragged me out of bed to leave WAY before I felt ready. (I know they have to get us out, but she could have been apologetic!)
Meanwhile, about a week before surgery I was offered a job out west! My start date was to be exactly a month after the surgery. In fact, my post-op appointment was the day before we drove off for the wild, wild west. At my post-op appointment my kind and compassionate doctor sat me down and spent time going over my surgery and explaining my options in detail, including the risks associated with each, the likelihood of each working, etc. HA! No. A nurse glanced at my chart and told me I was good to go. I had to ask her to look at my scars to make sure they were healing well. I had to insist on getting 5 minutes with my doctor, and the only reason they gave it to me was because I was literally moving across the country the next day. He sat with me for 5 minutes and said these exact words: "You're going to need to do IVF and you're going to need to do it in the next 6 months." I think my face turned into a Looney Tunes cartoon, my eyes bugged out and my tongue lolling on the floor. I told him we hadn't even considered that, and that I was moving the next day. He said, and again this is a direct quote, "It's really bad in there. Well, it WAS really bad in there. This is your only option." He would not expand on that statement, he just kept repeating it and then dismissed me.
Looking back, I feel like that conversation was pivotal in my journey thus far, and not in a good way. His curt and abrasive tone, and refusal to really explain his recommendation, made me defensive. When I had initial consults with two different doctors in my new hometown, I didn't have anything to tell them besides that sentence, which to me felt completely out-of-the-blue and uncalled for. When I described it that way to my new doctors, who only had written notes and no images to go off of (another rant about medical records for another time), they agreed and said it seemed silly to not even try an IUI. These consults were only a few months after surgery, so my ultrasounds looked fine.
That didn't last long. (Dun dun DUNNNNNNNN!!!!!)