hysteroscopy

I had my hysteroscopy on Thursday, and I guess I should blog about it.  I am becoming so used to all these medical procedures, general anesthetics, hospitalizations and complications, that I forget that they are pretty significant events in my life.  The list of "previous surgeries" on my chart is a mile long.  All of them obs-gyne related, except for a lonely tonsillectomy that I decided to have before attempting to procreate.

On Wednesday morning I went for the pre anesthetic consult, and given my history of serious bleeding with both babies, they typed and cross matched me for some blood, just in case.  On Thursday, bright and early at 4:30 am I left for the hospital, and took very literally the recommendation to bring no valuables.  In fact, it was so early, that I forgot to bring anything at all, except for my own self, with the clothes I was wearing.  I got to the main desk and, without a CareCard or some ID they signed me in for the surgery anyway.  They had my insurance number from the doctor's office, but still, it was pretty remarkable anyway.

A gay nurse from the Philippines started my IV while chatting about Vancouver real estate.  Then the medical student working with the anesthesiologist came to take my history, and ran out of paper pretty quickly.  Then the anesthesiologist came, and declared me ill with some form of bleeding disorder or other, even though all of my bleeding screens came back negative.  I guess I will have to see a hematologist at some point in the future.  Then the OB resident came.  Then the OB chief resident.  And, somewhere in there, I briefly got to see my surgeon, whom I gave my husband's number back home and asked him to please phone him with the findings, as I am very unlikely to remember anything he might tell me right after I wake up (I had enough anesthetic hangovers).

A pretty nurse from Hong Kong wheeled me into the OR and on the way we chatted about her lack of boyfriends for the past few years, and generally about the lack of eligible men in Vancouver.  The anesthesiologist asked me how much I weighed, and I said 74.9 kg, which he proceeded to round up to 75kg, despite my protests.  Then, I got some fentanyl, and felt nicely drowsy.  The oxygen mask, then bye bye a few seconds later.  When I woke up in recovery an hour later, the surgeon tried to tell me that he found adhesions, but I really could not form any memories at that point.  I slept for most of the day, and in the evening I was allowed to go home after proving that I could void.  I was extraordinarily hungry and all I got was two crackers and a can of ginger ale.  It was worse than Air Canada domestic flights.  I decided right then and there that, although it was nice to have all this uninterrupted sleep (I got out of the recovery room at 9 am and slept until 2:30 pm non stop), I had to get some chow, so I took out my own IV and left.  I got my dad to pick me up, and to stop at a gas station on the long way home so that I could get a pack of Pringles (they were multigrain, hm).  (I hate Pringles, but there wasn't much choice there, it was either that or chocolate).

So, the summary that I got from my husband is that I had a large fibrotic mass at the entrance in the uterus, where the cerclage had eroded through.  He separated the adhesions and created an entrance to the uterus.  The fundus looked ok, and generally the uterine cavity was fine, so if I do not re-adhere and there is a way into the uterus, I can get pregnant via IVF again.  He left a balloon catheter in the uterus for a week, and gave me antibiotics.

I feel fine, except for the occasional discomfort and mild spotting.  I resumed caring for Emma right away, and other than feeling very tired and weighing 5 lb more the following day, the surgery did not leave me with too many sequellae.  In fact, given my colourful history, it went remarkably smoothly. If in six weeks the uterus is still open enough to pass a catheter through, then he will be replacing the cerclage, and that will be a more involved surgery, with an overnight stay.  If they give me more than a pack of crackers to eat, that is.