Wednesday 15 April 2009

What a difference a splay makes.

I was wrong. Doesn't happen often. Like Peter Griffin being right. But I was wrong. I am now a post-it. I am not, though, yellow, nor am I sticky on a thin strip, on one side. The medical man I saw at hospital this morning was the same medical man who fitted my Mirena under general anaesthetic all that time ago on Thursday 8th January of this year, 2009. He agreed with me that the pain was not going to improve, and that, instead of leaving it another two or 3 months to see if it settles and needing, therefore, to continue the codeine intake, the best option was to "whip it out", as Award-Winning Consultant said last time. My poor womb. It was only trying to protect me, really: a foreign object in there? Which is not a foetus? Of course it would try to rid the body of it. I was just a bit unlucky that the pains I had were severe and very restrictive on my daily life.

The option for the Nice Medical Man to dive in there and remove it in a few minutes' time was a bit daunting. I knew it was the very best and most obvious thing to do but given that certain other examinations and such have been more than very uncomfortable, I wasn't quick to say, "Oh all right, then" with vim. Logic doesn't ever really have a part to play in anxiety and depressive issues but this, this was purely, completely fear of important parts hurting after past medical experiences and the trauma which followed. I still maintain my minibouts of depression were brought on, not by the hormone, but by the frustration and anger at what Mirena was doing to me and how it was affecting me.

With my wonderful Ma to my left, NMM to my right (I'm not going into "here I am, stuck in the middle...") I decided to go fer it. I was SO nervous about the impending ARGHH. So, to the "delivery room" and off with the boots (I LOVE CONVERSE BOOTS. I want a red pair. And a blue pair.), kept socks on, obviously, and then the jeans came off. Not worn those figure-hugging darlings for SO. LONG. I love those jeans. Truly. They are kind to my behind. Yeahhh... and the rest = butt-ugly nude from waist down. Drafty.

So, yes, gown on, sit on the seat-thing, put a leg in each rest (so elegant) and, just for good measure, a nurse and a trainee girl doctor for company and..... oh, that feels uncomfortable, a bit of grabbing around in there and then *shocked/relieved face* "You bastard", I said. "Not you! She means that!" my Ma hurriedly said. And I did mean Mirena: I couldn't possibly, at that moment, think NMM anything less than magnificent for being gentle as he said he would be and for performing the deed out without me even really feeling it leaving. Mirena was OUT!! And relaaaax...

Relief isn't the word for it. I was so smiley and was grinning, I wished the lovely ladies on reception a wonderful day, chuckled to myself, laughed in the car park, and rested a bit in the car on the way home. A late night and a very early morning (2am: insomnia), bad sleep (and again and nerves, too) and an early morning (7:49am) allowed my conscience to rest awhile. And, since I got back, I've cleared the kitchen, fed three cats their own food at least twice each, cleaned the cats' trays, done this blog, and made several cups of tea almost without effort. It's brilliant! I'm aware there is a significant psychological factor in this: that "weight off the sholders" feeling. But since Mirena's first day in its new home, I'd felt a horrible stiff, aching-to-the-bones heaviness, a bit like the premenstrual lead-weights-in-the-soles-of-your-feet-and-all-the-way-up-to-the-top-of-your-head feeling. But all the time. That's gone, now. Huzzah!!

And like that's not enough for a good day, I've had some lovely, lovely comments about my blog. People read it! YOU, yes you there: YOU read it. Or at least, this part. THANK-YOU, heartfeltedly... is that a word? Should be, if not...

So, hormone treatments, for the next few months, at least, are out of the equation. It's a shame it seems they may never be an option for me. Regarding Mirena, my womb hadn't responded as it "should" have or as was expected; the lining hadn't thinned. And, as much I fear my periods and (still) hope they'll improve, equally, I can look forward to wearing my jeans again and my new pair from eBay, dusting (oh!), vacuuming without collapsing, helplessly, on to the floor, a wee bit of gardening, ARTWORK!! I can "do" art again and ohh I have missed it so much... SO. MUCH. For now, though: facebook and just, y'know... stuff......


  1. I was watching the embarrassing illnesses show on channel 4 tonight and thought of you, which seems odd now that I type it!

    Hooray for Artwork type things :)

    We are going to be 30 on the same year, I am planning something mad, not sure how mad yet, but it will be an adventure :)

  2. Huzzah!! its out! ive not checked in for a couple of days and just read thats the dreaded thing has gone. Aww cp had a big grin on my face knowing that atleast all that horrible pain is no more.

    By the way converse very cool indeed, my daughter has her pink ones on today hehe

  3. Ohh Claire. How can we be 30? 1981 wasn't *that long ago, surely? 28 years. Agh...

    A - ayyye :D


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