The Choice
November 13th 2007 22:50
The Choice
Life is a journey; and of course no two journeys are ever the same. Life is also about choice and the choices we make either benefit us and those that love us or hurt us and everyone around. Whatever denomination; whatever culture; there is always a choice - made subconsciously or consciously and the outcome of that choice becomes the path of our journey.
With the passing of my father, I found myself questioning why I never had more children. It seemed that after the arrival of our first - that was it.
Grieving and despondent, I contacted my gynecologist who in the following week, performed a laparoscopy to find out why.
When I called into his office two weeks later, I was full of hope that he'd solved the mystery, but, instead, he scanned his notes, avoiding my eyes and stated, "I don't know who's looking out for you, but we removed a cyst that was borderline cancer. Because of its location, no test would have detected it and in a year you would have had full blown Cancer."
I froze. I came to see him for one thing and got this instead. He wasn't finished, though. "My suggestion is that you undergo a full hysterectomy immediately," he went on to say, scrawling on my notes with the old fashioned ink pen. His eyes still hadn't met mine.
I rose. "No thank you," and abruptly left.
I don't know how I got home that day. It was good news and bad news all wrapped up in one sentence. I dismissed it, and I'm very good at dismissing things.
Ten years on and my health had deteriorated so badly that I was on 'Voltarin', a painkiller. General Practitioner after general practitioner - I was changing them like the wind, would just send me for ultra sounds and tell me that there was nothing wrong with me. I even stressed that one evening I took the painkillers every couple of hours and it didn't stop the pain, but by this time I sensed I was being dismissed, in the nicest possible way, as a hypochondriac and sent home with another prescription for more Voltarin.
It reached a point that I suspected that my choice had now led me to have Cancer. After all, I refused the surgery. No longer trusting the general practitioners who had failed to treat me for all those years, I called my gynecologist and he agreed to see me. It was only a ten minute visit, in which time I demanded the hysterectomy and he organized the surgery and further tests.
In the two weeks leading up to the surgery I made peace with my choice and whatever my fate would be. After all, it was my choice and given that time again, in all honesty, I would do the same thing. I wanted more children. Now, I wanted to feel well enough to look after the family I had.
Prepped at the hospital, my gynecologist introduced me to the surgeon who would be performing my surgery. I was grateful. At least he never scolded me for my choice. He took my hand, smiled and whispered, "Don't worry, I'm assisting."
The next morning the surgeon herself came to see me. She was distraught, but she sat on my hospital bed and wanted to know how I was feeling. I prepared for the worse. She was being far too nice and I didn't even know her. Was this a bedside manner?
"You had endometriosis. All over the place. I didn't do the surgery. Your own gynecologist did it and it took him four hours. There was so much damage done; so many other things too that should have been picked up - fibroids for instance. How could you not know you had it? Didn't you feel any pain?"
"No Cancer?" I asked, anxious.
"We suspected it, but no - the cysts were benign."
"Thank you," was all I managed to say. As I watched her leave I allowed the tears to well in my eyes. "Thank you," I repeated, this time to the Higher Power.
I made a choice and whether it was the right or wrong one - it was the right one for me and being prepared to suffer the consequences aided greatly in my recovery.
[ Text and original characters copyright © 2007 by Teresa Strati ]
Life is a journey; and of course no two journeys are ever the same. Life is also about choice and the choices we make either benefit us and those that love us or hurt us and everyone around. Whatever denomination; whatever culture; there is always a choice - made subconsciously or consciously and the outcome of that choice becomes the path of our journey.
With the passing of my father, I found myself questioning why I never had more children. It seemed that after the arrival of our first - that was it.
Grieving and despondent, I contacted my gynecologist who in the following week, performed a laparoscopy to find out why.
When I called into his office two weeks later, I was full of hope that he'd solved the mystery, but, instead, he scanned his notes, avoiding my eyes and stated, "I don't know who's looking out for you, but we removed a cyst that was borderline cancer. Because of its location, no test would have detected it and in a year you would have had full blown Cancer."
I froze. I came to see him for one thing and got this instead. He wasn't finished, though. "My suggestion is that you undergo a full hysterectomy immediately," he went on to say, scrawling on my notes with the old fashioned ink pen. His eyes still hadn't met mine.
I rose. "No thank you," and abruptly left.
I don't know how I got home that day. It was good news and bad news all wrapped up in one sentence. I dismissed it, and I'm very good at dismissing things.
Ten years on and my health had deteriorated so badly that I was on 'Voltarin', a painkiller. General Practitioner after general practitioner - I was changing them like the wind, would just send me for ultra sounds and tell me that there was nothing wrong with me. I even stressed that one evening I took the painkillers every couple of hours and it didn't stop the pain, but by this time I sensed I was being dismissed, in the nicest possible way, as a hypochondriac and sent home with another prescription for more Voltarin.
It reached a point that I suspected that my choice had now led me to have Cancer. After all, I refused the surgery. No longer trusting the general practitioners who had failed to treat me for all those years, I called my gynecologist and he agreed to see me. It was only a ten minute visit, in which time I demanded the hysterectomy and he organized the surgery and further tests.
In the two weeks leading up to the surgery I made peace with my choice and whatever my fate would be. After all, it was my choice and given that time again, in all honesty, I would do the same thing. I wanted more children. Now, I wanted to feel well enough to look after the family I had.
Prepped at the hospital, my gynecologist introduced me to the surgeon who would be performing my surgery. I was grateful. At least he never scolded me for my choice. He took my hand, smiled and whispered, "Don't worry, I'm assisting."
The next morning the surgeon herself came to see me. She was distraught, but she sat on my hospital bed and wanted to know how I was feeling. I prepared for the worse. She was being far too nice and I didn't even know her. Was this a bedside manner?
"You had endometriosis. All over the place. I didn't do the surgery. Your own gynecologist did it and it took him four hours. There was so much damage done; so many other things too that should have been picked up - fibroids for instance. How could you not know you had it? Didn't you feel any pain?"
"No Cancer?" I asked, anxious.
"We suspected it, but no - the cysts were benign."
"Thank you," was all I managed to say. As I watched her leave I allowed the tears to well in my eyes. "Thank you," I repeated, this time to the Higher Power.
I made a choice and whether it was the right or wrong one - it was the right one for me and being prepared to suffer the consequences aided greatly in my recovery.
...000…
[ Text and original characters copyright © 2007 by Teresa Strati ]
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