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Peace out uterus, it’s been real.

I’ve been living with something weird for over 5 years now.  It’s wildly hilarious to me now, because OF COURSE it would happen to me.  Of course it would.  In August, 2014, my uterus fell out.  I was away for a few days with a friend and our kids while our daycare was closed.  Upon our return, I jumped into the shower and began my usual routine of overthinking everything while the water washed my sins away.  Dramatic, no?  I’d been suffering from some weird abdominal pain, and what I discovered, I’d never forget.  Something was…sticking out of me.  Truth bomb…my first thought…HAVE I HAD A PENIS ALL ALONG?!?!  AM I REALLY A MAN?  Panic.  Sorry Chris, this has all been a rouse.   Get out, dry off, grab a mirror and panic.  WHAT.  IS.  THIS.

I’m 36, and at the time, I was only 33.  Was this a weird fetus?  What in the hell??  I went to emergency, because that’s what you do when an alien is exiting you.  And because I’m me and I use humour to deflect panic, I’m sure the admitting team had a field day that evening.  “Sorry, you have what?”  “Like, some kind of organ coming out. Or an alien, or I’ve grown a penis.  Please don’t call psych, I’m being serious.”  Phew.

The doctor who got to take a look was maybe a doctor for 28 minutes.  He mentioned this was his first shift and he was nervous.  Cool, man.  The feeling is mutual.  He got out his ultrasound machine and I braced myself for impact.  If it’s a baby, I’m gonna be…freaking out.  If it’s a penis, I don’t even know.  So…this doctor, being new and me being beyond freaked out, starts ultrasounding at my heart.  Ok, there it is…beating away.  You’re too far away from the main event, pal.  He got to my abdomen, empty uterus…THANK GOD.  Not going to lie, the last thing I wanted to take home that day was a penis, the second was a baby, so we’re in good shape so far.  He furrowed his brow, and then said, “Well, this is weird.  Your uterus is not were it should be.  That thing hanging out?  It’s your cervix.”  Ummmm….I’m fairly positive that’s not supposed to be there, but sighs of relief.  That doesn’t sound so bad?  At least it’s my anatomy and not a foreign body or extra part.  Celebrate!  CELEBRATE.  He called it a ‘spontaneous prolapse’ and said there’s no way that, given my age and the fact that I’ve had one child, it was serious.  It could be from strenuous activity and not to worry, but to follow up with my gynecologist.  That I can do.  So, we left.

My GP is a fabulous man.  He’s patient, kind, knowledgable and funny.  I can say that once we’ve even been at the same wine function.  He’s just a cool guy. He was puzzled.  And referred me to the gynecologist who performed my repair surgery from after having Jack.  OH, perhaps you don’t know that story.  My body never healed after giving birth, so I had to go have a surgery to fix it all, which was so enjoyable.  Maybe that’s for another day.

This gynecologist, he has no time for anyone.  He got me up onto his exam table, and gave the cervix a big tug.  I’ll never forget that, it was so abrupt. Is that how you determine a prolapse?  By yanking it out?  This is the worst.  “You had a spontaneous prolapse, nothing to worry about.”  OK!  Doctor number 3.  This must be fine.

Fast forward to the end of 2016.  Things had gotten progressively worse.  I was referred to pelvic floor therapy, where they discovered they couldn’t help me, after lots of aggressive internal work, which I could have seriously done without.  I had suffered from month long bladder infections, pushing through business ownership, working, mothering, volunteering, sports, etc., with my uterus hanging out and a low grade fever every day.  Doctor after doctor, everyone determined this was ‘normal’ and will ‘go away’.  Aaaaand then….I got a referral to Burnaby Hospital.  I met a doctor who was appalled that this was left alone.  She told me I had the body of a 90 year old woman, and this needed to be repaired before everything fell out, including bladder and bowel.  “How have you functioned this long?”  I just have.

I was placed on a waitlist for one of three specialists in BC that could perform my repair, as it had gotten so bad.  Whichever one got to me first.  I got a call a few months later, and went to visit.  She sat me down and let me know that this was critical, dangerous and needed to be fixed as soon as possible.  Not to do anything crazy, no running, no hockey, no, no, no.  I’ve been on her waitlist for surgery for a year.  And FINALLY I have my date.  Having had surgery before, I know that you can get bumped.  Hopefully I won’t.  November 7th.  It’s on.  Or…it’s out? Either way, it’s happening!  Let’s have a party!

 

More life stories up soon.

xo,

Steph

 

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