Even as much as I try to enjoy the small things, sometimes I lose focus. This weekend started out with my being passive aggressive and bratty. Ron’s given me a smidge of a free pass because I’m about to have surgery on the 11th, and we’re not sure what’s going to happen with that. The plan is for a relatively minor ovarian cystectomy and a double salpingectomy. When my previous OB/GYN did my hysterectomy, he left my tubes; now they are full of fluid and have to come out.
What’s funny is that I switched doctors because my old one wouldn’t take my ovarian concerns seriously. Because he also took my cervix, there’s no way to reach in and palpate the ovaries, making it difficult to screen for cancer. While I’m not at high risk, other cancers run in my family so I try to be vigilant. My new doctor agreed that I needed a more thorough exam because I do have abdominal pain, although I tend to attribute that to my interstitial cystitis. I am ALWAYS in abdominal pain. Just to be on the safe side, she ordered an ultrasound and found all the little issues.
Of course, just because the plan is for minor surgery doesn’t mean she won’t find other stuff while she’s in there. My right ovary is scarred and looks like a battlefield. My doctor suspects I may have endometrial adhesions. The cyst is on my left ovary. She’s committed to saving my ovaries if possible, but if not, it’s instant menopause for me. Between the post-op pain, recovery period, and possible hormonal fluctuations, I’m worried about how and for how long this will affect my sex life.
Ron’s been feeling burnt out lately and decided to take a couple of days off, giving him a four day weekend. I wanted to slip away to a B&B, no kids, dogs, work, knit groups (dire, I know!), or housework; just us, a big fluffy bed, and food delivered in. Ron said no, especially since we’re going off to New Mexico for a few days this fall. I pouted and moped for most of the first three days, railing against the unfairness of it all. Poor me, right?
Of course, if we’d gone away, I would have missed out on Matt losing his keys, tearing the house apart, then finding them on top of a bookcase about a foot above his head (he put them there). I would have missed Aubrey spending the night on Saturday and fixing pancakes with Ron on Sunday morning, then watching Aub shovel them in her mouth in giant quarters. I wouldn’t have enjoyed Ron bringing me wine and making me rest while he did dishes and laundry. There would have been no ridiculous dinner prep conversation, one of my favorite times of the day. Pinky wouldn’t have had a bath, and I wouldn’t have seen her prancing around like a puppy, all excited to be clean and brushed.
Life happens in the day to day stuff. Feeding the kids, washing the dog, cooking meals. Ron still managed to sneak in plenty of alone time, in spite of all the other goings on… and I didn’t miss a thing.