Decisions

I’ll cut to the chase:  I decided to have the surgery.  Nearly two weeks ago, Tom took me to the hospital here in town and the OB who delivered my twins removed the other ovary, fallopian tube, and the upper part of my uterus (where the ovary and fallopian tube join the uterus, there is an increased risk of ovarian cancer turning up there, so they just literally cut out that risk).

I’ll be frank, I wasn’t hootin’ and hollerin’ about it (well, maybe about that morphine drip afterwards. Wink.).  I still have a crazy bad babylust.  I’d love another child, but as I realized many many months ago when it seemed like I was permanently in chemopause, I don’t neeeeeed another child.  My life, my being, would not cease to exist without another child.  But in the end, I just couldn’t take the fear of putting my life on the line for the slight possibility of another baby.  I couldn’t risk my time with my husband or my children, or my mother or sister.

And it turned out that I was Right.  I was right to have made that decision to breeze on past that Try for Child #3 Detour.  Because only hours after I’d woken up in my hospital room following the surgery, the OB showed up to tell me that my pathology reports were all in and everything was clean. Lovely.  Then he had a little bit more news to tell me.  He’d found adhesions, crazy bucketsfull (not literally, I hope) of adhesions in and around my remaining ovary.  Adhesions to the point that he said he seriously doubted I would have ever been able to get pregnant again, let alone carry it to term.

So I’m off the hook!  Now I won’t spend the next 50 years on this earth second-guessing myself, wondering “but what IF we’d postponed the surgery for six months and just saw what happened, if we could have another baby?”  It is a really freeing thing, to know this.