The room was designed to be as comfortable and professional as possible, without too much of ‘cold and sterile’ hospital feelings to it. One side of the wall was painted in rich dark brown shade.
We – my mother and I – waited for about 20 minutes before the nurse called my name. I flipped through the small pregnancy magazine, trying to calm myself. Brain was swirling with thoughts, lots of them. My mother sat there playing with her cell phone next to me.
Into the small examination room we went. The nurse politely told me to get on the bed, prepared my lower stomach for the ultrasound. Next to me was a big ultrasound machine – much bigger than the small clinic I got my first diagnosis at. She covered my legs with blankets that I pulled to cover my bare stomach as the room was pretty cold.
A big monitor was up by the wall so everyone in the room can also see the ultrasound picture.
My mother almost didn’t want to come in with me but I asked her to.
More waiting…by this time I was trying hard not to think about my bladder and how full it feels. In the cold room! Nearly thirty minutes flew by before the doctor, an oncology gynecologist walked in.
He quickly boot up the machine, asked me how I’m feeling, if there’s any complaint.
“Yes, I need to pee all the time!” I said as he pulled the ultrasound wand about to touch my lower stomach.
“Well, that’s normal if you drink a lot.” He said but quickly changed his mind “Why, of course you would be peeing so much. Look at the size of this.”
He did a quick measuring. Concluded my uterine fibroid is 8.47 x 7 something centimeter.
“You will need surgery to remove this.”
I think I figured that one out.
“Where is it exactly located, Doc?” This is one question I forgot to ask the first doctor I met.
“Right in the middle of your uterus. See these dark lines…” he pointed to a dark lining on the monitor. “That’s your bladder. This is why you have to use the rest room a lot, because the fibroid is pressing against it.”
He quickly asked us to join him in the consultation room – through another door adjacent to the examination room.
“What type of surgery, Doc? Can we do laparoscopy?” I asked as we sat in front of him.
“Well, I wouldn’t recommend laparoscopy as it may not take out the rest of your fibroid. There’s risk that we can’t clean it all out of your uterus.”
The doctor asked me some questions. “How many kids do you have? How old is he? Do you plan to have more children?” the typical.
The doctor is a senior one that I’ve read have pretty good reputation in town when it comes to dealing with uterine fibroids. Yet, I feel he was rushing me.
“Can diet affect the fibroids, Doc?” I am curious because I do believe it may play roles in how big this sucker has gotten.
“Not really…I don’t really see the connection.” And right there and then I knew this doctor is not for me.
The way he answered my initial questions, he was in a hurry and I got turned off big time by that. Granted, you are a busy doctor, you have many patients waiting for you but please take the time to answer questions, to address concerns instead of just saying “So when do you want to do the surgery?” while opening up your calendar, Doc!
I kept quiet after that and let my mother asked lots of questions.
My mother, my usually quiet mother is showing her strong side that day. She asked so many questions although I do not appreciate how the doctor seems like he doesn’t really want to answer her.
She needed to ask all those questions…she is my mother after all.
“What about her gym, Doc? Isn’t that dangerous? She works out a lot.” And I smiled to her.
“That’s actually great if she’s working out and staying healthy. The pain she has would probably be double or triple if she doesn’t work out.”
My mother sighed with relief and I felt like hugging her. She’s been worrying about my back-to-the-gym program and had voiced her concern before. So to hear it coming out of a doctor’s mouth that’s good for her. I know she needed that.
“Let’s have breakfast downstairs.” My mother said.
That hospital is the same hospital where my father spent over a month after his surgery two years ago. So we pretty much knew the menu at the cafeteria and they are good!
“Yes, let’s do that.” I wrap my right arm around her shoulder as we walked through the corridors.
We ordered our food and sat down. She then told me that my late grandmother had actually had a hysterectomy. So it does runs in my family.
It was a great day despite having a second opinion from a doctor who doesn’t seems to care much made me a bit annoyed. I don’t spend much alone time with my mother so that was nice and I truly enjoyed our alone times.
We got to talk, we got to share, and I love her for the fact she seems so excited about Dan and I. I think I need to do this more often with her.