I don’t remember the first one as all that bad. It was scary, but I remember getting over it in a day, and not having the emotional reaction. This one did not go very well.
It started a few days earlier. I do not like anesthesia, and am always afraid I will not wake up. In fact, I’ve only had general anesthesia three times prior to this hysteroscopy: a D&C when I lost my baby at 9 weeks, the first hysteroscopy, and the egg retrieval. Wow – what a wonderful gift infertility has given me – lots of horrible medical procedures. Last week I worked myself into a frenzy, worrying about the procedure and specifically if I would wake up from the procedure. I realize this is slightly irrational, that the chance of death is very small, but it is a chance! And now, with baby Alex, the price is so much higher. That is what really got me – is it worth it to go through all this for the possibility of baby #2, when the risk is that Alex could lose her mother? I know I’m being dramatic, but these are the things that were going through my head.
The day before the procedure as I left work and said goodbye to my friend that knows all the gory details of my infertile life, I told her to watch over Alex, and help the hubs navigate my death. The morning of the procedure, I squeezed Alex a little longer, and told her a few extra times I loved her always as I dropped her off at daycare. And during the drive to the procedure, I kept giving instructions to the hubs: tell her I love her, I want to be cremated, take the life insurance money and hire a live-in nanny, you need to date so you can find another mom for Alex. (this is the one that always made my breath catch.) I held it together very well, giving these instructions to the hubs in light humor. I really wasn’t as morbid as it sounds, I just felt like I needed to be very clear in my instructions. He laughed and joked with me, but didn’t tell me I was being stupid which I appreciated.
We got to the clinic at 12:30 as instructed, with the procedure scheduled at 1:30. During that hour, I was supposed to get an IV, sign all the consent forms, change into a gown, etc. Well, I didn’t get called back until 1:20. Finally I had signed everything, changed clothes and talked to the doctors by 2:00, at which time the doc said we would get started in about 10 minutes. I was in a decent mood until about 2:15, at which time I started to get really nervous. I was so hungry and thirsty (nothing to eat or drink since midnight), I had a headache from caffeine withdrawal, and I was pissed it was taking so long. Plus the hubs stopped being supportive, and was visibly annoyed with me. At 2:30 I started to cry. One of the nurses came in and tried to talk to me, and I could not stop crying! I had psyched myself up to do this, just get it over with, and now it was delayed. I tried to hold myself together, but it didn’t work very well. Finally they called me into the operating room at 2:50. I was exhausted, and shaky, and a mess. The surgical nurse tried to calm me down, saying the mood I was in when I went under would affect the mood I would be in when I woke up. Ugh – that didn’t help. But they put me under, which was probably a good thing.
I woke up in a frenzy, listening to them telling me to take deep breaths, scared because I was having a hard time doing so, and I just wanted to get out of there. They handed me my clothes and I tried to put them on while my IV was still in, with shaky hands. I wanted to be out of that stupid place and never come back. At some point the doctor came by and told me she found a bunch of polyps and cut them out, so I would be bleeding and in some pain. I left as soon as possible.
This was on Friday, and I’m still struggling to feel normal. I went home on Friday and slept all night. Then I tried to get up on Saturday and take care of Alex, but I didn’t do very well. Off and on, I would sleep for an hour, get up and play with her, then go back to bed. Thankfully the hubs took care of her more than normal this weekend. I took two days off of the boot camp routine – Friday and Saturday. But Sunday morning I woke early and wanted to get back on track. I went outside and walked my intervals instead of running. I felt ok, but exhausted. I took 3 naps yesterday – before Alex woke up, and then during each of her naps. This morning I got up and tried to run my intervals, but could only do half of them. My muscles are so sore! I’m pissed that my fitness routine got derailed from this stupid procedure, but I’m trying to remind myself that this is normal, and I need to take it easy.
This eight weeks of boot camp is so important to me. It’s my time to get my body back, and get my life back. I’m mad I did this hysteroscopy in the middle of it, but at least it’s done. I know I need to ease back into the exercise a bit more, as I’m now exhausted. Hopefully that was the very last time I will ever need to go under general anesthesia. No more hysteroscopies, no more egg retrievals, and definitely no more D&C’s.