Women’s Health: Uterine Fibroids

     Thirteen years ago (1996) I was informed by my doctor that two fibroids were growing on my uterus.  I was on the pill when the the fibroids were found and I was told that the pill would help to keep them from growing.  It didn’t seem important to the doctor at that time to remove the fibroids if I wasn’t tying to get pregnant right then.  I continued using the oral contraceptive over the next four years and then I eventually stopped taking the pill (unfortunately, the fibroids never came to mind when I made that decision).  I suppose it was then, sometime in the year 2000, when my real troubles began. 

    One day in 2006 and several doctors later, I went for a routine exam and my new primary physician discovered the growths; by then the uterine fibroids could be felt just by touching parts of my stomach.  My appointment for my routine exam turned into a referral to radiology and that appointment turned into a referral to OB/GYN.  I don’t think I’ll ever forget the day and moment, when I was sitting in front of that gynecologist and the word hysterectomy came out of his mouth.  It seemed as if the word came out of his mouth with such ease, almost heartlessly as if he had only told me to take two aspirins and call him in the morning.  I was thirty-two years old and childless.  Why would a doctor suggest that I have a hysterectomy, wasn’t there any other way?

     I cried as I tried to explain my situation to the doctor.  I had never been in a hurry to have a child and honestly, I had never been sure of wanting one but something about the possibility of never being able to give birth shook me.  It seemed like the longer I sat there pleading with the gynecologist the more he tried to convince me that there were no other options;  a hysterectomy was the only way to go.  He wouldn’t consider another way.  I refused to discuss my medical condition with the doctor any longer; he obviously wasn’t listening to me.  I heard him as he spoke has last words trying to make his case, I heard him, but I wasn’t listening to him anymore.  I had absolutely no interest in anything else he was saying because as a male, he didn’t have the ability to understand my pain.  Clearly, he didn’t comprehend how disturbing his words were for a childless, thirty-two year old woman.

     I left the hospital that day feeling so frustrated, hurt, hopeless-overwhelmed.  I was told early on that uterin fibroids could be surgically removed.  Why would I agree to a hysterectomy if it was possible to remove the fibroids?  I felt the need for a doctor that could somehow empathize with me and the feelings I was experiencing.  I needed a second opinion and I needed it from a woman doctor.  I knew deep down inside that I would never be able to accept the idea of a hysterectomy unless the news came from a female doctor anyway.  Suddenly, for some reason it seemed that something wouldn’t allow me to wallow around in hopelessness, not even for a day.  I believed so strongly that something could be done and there was a doctor to help me; a doctor that was at least willing to try.  After remarrying in mid 2008 and having previously shared my medical condition with my husband (before we were married), it became even more important to try to solve the problem; my husband and I were in the same boat, neither of us had children.

     Earlier this year (2009) I ended up in the hospital, my soon to be old hospital,  due to severe abdominal pain.  After several hours in the emergencey room the E.R. doctor walked into the room and stated that they were going to set up an appointment for me;  he said I needed to have a hysterectomy.  I figured he had read my records and saw what the last doctor had concluded.  I already had an upcoming appointment scheduled with a new primary physician; her clinic was local (but closed during that hour) and the hospital and emergency room  that she was under was out of town.  I only visited my old hospital because it was convenient at that time, however, when they called days later to schedule an appointment-I declined.

     My new primary physician referred me to a new gynecologist; these two women were both awesome.  I was educated about different options by each doctor and both doctors disagreed with a hysterectomy being the first and only choice.  Finally!  I wasn’t searching for a doctor with a magic wand, but I did want one that offered other options.  My gynecologist not only took the time to explain different options but she also explained why certain ones wouldn’t work for me.  The hard truth was, I’d waited so long that the two uterine fibroids had grown extremely large and or had multiplied;  there was no way of knowing, they couldn’t be measured by the sonogram because of size and or amount.  There was either two huge fibroids or possibly many huge fibroids;  which explained why for two years prior to that time, I probably could’ve easily been mistaken for being five months pregnant.  I wasn’t left with a lot of choices but there was still hope.  The doctor was willing to try to remove the fibroids.  She did explain how my womb could become distorted and at that point, she’d have to give me a hysterectomy;  to me that was understandable and acceptable. 

     On the day of my surgery I was so hopeful and I had been, even after the first doctor recommended a hysterectomy.  I was so hopeful and I had such a positive attitude that I believe I went into a state of denial, if that’s possible.  I had already had baby names that I liked picked out for years and now that I was married, our girl would be MyKaylah (my first name would be her middle name) and our son would be Caleb (he would have his father’s first name as his middle name).  There were times when I’d imagine the future and I would see myself chasing a toddler around.  I’d seen myself teaching my one-year old how to make the, “ah” sound after taking a sip of Mommy’s drink.  I imagined that my daughter would probably be a daddy’s girl (probably a real spoiled brat).  I believed that I would be a mother someday.  Never had I stopped and imagined my doctor walking into the hospital room, three weeks after my thirty-fifth birthday and telling me that she had given me a partial hysterectomy.  But she did.  The “H” word news was disappointing but she tried.   I knew that my doctor had tried and in some cases, it’s just really not always about what you want, it’s what you get. 

     My womb shredded during the surgery as the doctor attempted to remove the first fibroid; eight fibroids had been growing inside of me.  The gynecologist told me that the total weight of the fibroids was approximately 7lbs and she added, “That’s like carrying a 7lb baby”.  I didn’t know but that was the closes I’d ever come to knowing.  After returning home I was thankful to have a supportive and loving husband because I went through some emotional moments.  There were days right after my surgery when I would just start crying and sometimes my husband wouldn’t get any notice.  How was I suppose to deal with it all?  It was almost similar to a death to me.  There wasn’t anything that I could do to change it and I personally, would never, ever be able to conceive a child.  And, no matter how supportive my husband was, there was a part of me that felt like I had let him down; knowing that he had wanted children, a family all of his life.  How does a woman deal with that, all of it? There isn’t an easy way, but…

     …You count your blessings.  I’d always feared the thought of going into labor and I remind myself of that.  I’ll never have to deal with a, let me just call it a,  Cybil cycle another month in my life (or those painful cramps that I’d been dealing with all of my life).  I’ll never have to spend another cent on pads or tampons and I’ll probably never have to buy another bottle of non-aspirin (not even for a headache, which I’ve really only ever experienced after Cybil had left the building).  I am definitely happy that I no longer have an enlarged uterus (due to the fibroids).  There’s more on my list but I won’t go on and on.  I count my blessings and realize that being a woman and all that comes along with it being a woman (the good and the bad), isn’t an easy job but, someone has to do it.

*The picture shown was taken during my surgery, five of eight uterine fibroids are easily spotted.  There are two fairly large fibroids and three that are much smaller.

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