15 months…check. Boom.
Today I had the pleasure of meeting Dr L (damn I knew I should have name checked you!) who after introducing herself, promptly told me how much she liked my bag. The Mulberry had its first hospital outing today.
We chatted for a bit and the usual questions came up;
‘Well, actually, the urgency to go for a wee is a bit more now but manageable’. She explained how this was a lasting effect of the radiotherapy I had and completely normal. Also doesn’t help that I have had a baby and any Mama knows your wee patterns are never quite the same after you have had your little darling…
It was then time for the main event…the physical examination.
Whilst chatting about how cheeky our ‘threenagers’ are especially when it comes to ratting you out about your alcohol consumption, Dr L, did a thorough internal (which still has me wincing despite all the treatment I have encountered – you never get used to a doctor with a plastic tool up your hoo-haa) and made a couple of comments (which I will spare you dear readers, but it was very reassuring) and gave me the delightful news that the fuckwit, cervical cancer, was still being kept at bay…for another 3 months at least.
Boo – fucking – ya! 15 Month check – nailed it.
And actually breathe again and nearly pass out from holding it in.
Throughout my appointments, throughout all the questions I am asked by doctors, nurses and other medical professionals, there is one question I have been been too scared to ask. I’ve not wanted to know why because knowing would take the last smidge of hope away.
But today, today I had the courage to ask because I need to move on to the next part of my life and stop tormenting myself.
I sat with a tissue in my hand, my head concentrating on my lap and with Dr L leaning forward to try and hear what I wanted say through the tears already falling from my eyes.
‘I know I can’t have anymore children, but I want to know why’
I know its a silly question, we know why, but I needed to know in black and white. I needed the facts, however hard it is to hear.
‘There are two parts; part one your ovaries would have been in the radiation field and therefore the eggs would be damaged; part two your womb would also have been in that area and not able to accommodate a baby’
As soon as she said that, it was as if a weight was was lifted.
A simple clarity to assist in dissipating a lifetime of heartache.
That horrible thing your body does, tricking you into thinking something could be happening because you recognise a niggle that ‘ooo might possibly’ be ovulation pain…can be just swept aside now.
We have a very amazing friend, so amazing that she offered to be a surrogate for Pete and I, but now, knowing what I do now about my eggs, its made it easier for that decision to be discounted, but be forever in her debt for thinking of doing something so selfless.
Even Dr L got a bit emotional about that. I love Dr L. She’s a Mama. She knows.
So the next step…maybe now we can actually talk about the next step. Whatever that maybe.
And maybe now I can take some comfort in the fact that I might not carry anymore children, but I am here and I am well.
Once the tears have dried of course.
To be or not to be…now I have my answer.