It was scheduled to be a fairly routine evacuation under local anaesthesia. Fibroids in the uterus were rather common, the gynaecologist assured me. I should be back at work the following day.
But things never are as simple as you hope they would be. When we reported at the nursing home for the operation, he told us he wanted us to undergo a colour Doppler to rule out something that happened in less than 1% of the cases, but which could lead to huge complications during the procedure.
“That is one in hundred, doctor”, I said. “hardly what I would call rare!” But of course, we did hope I would not be that one percent.
The doctor conducting the colour Doppler kept asking what seemed to be absolutely pointless questions, but when the report came, the questions no longer seemed so silly. There was a vascular outgrowth, which could either be an invasive mole, or the A-V malfunction that the gynaecologist has wanted to rule out.
Hysterectomy in either case, but of course, I did not want it to be a mole, because who can predict when a mole stops being benign? The confirmatory blood test took over six hours, and every one of those minutes was spent hoping it was precisely that which we had hoped it would not be just a few hours back.
In the doctor’s words, they can’t now save my uterus. The rather simple procedure has now become a laproscopic hysterectomy. I go under the gas later this week. And all I am hoping is that I come out of it okay.
After hours spent hoping it was not an A-V malformation, and then the hours spent hoping it was one, I don’t even know what to hope for.