Choka: Wedding Bell or Doom Knell

Image by cocoparisienne from Pixabay

some people sing praise

of the wonderful magic

love is like the spring

flowers and hearts are blooming

love is like summer

moon June tune and all of that

but to me love is

a whispered seductive lie

in a dark hallway

lustful shadow, lying tongue

love a mausoleum

in winter cemetery

filled with the dead dreams

of youth fallen years ago

love a pretty face

with a mouthful of grave dust

some sing praise to love

I turn my back and walk on

~cie~

OctPoWriMo 2019: Day 15: Mother May I Be a Mother (Choka)

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

when I was pregnant

it was a surprise to me

planned for adoption

told I could never give birth

it was not my wish

but it turned out for the best

~Cie~

Notes:

Because I had PCOS, I was told that I would never be able to have children. 

I married young and had been married for 6 years. We used no form of birth control because we believed we couldn't have children. We planned to adopt. 

While on vacation to Montana and Canada in 1989, I started feeling sick. This was shortly after the death of one of my childhood friends, who was working as a park ranger in Yellowstone. She slipped into a river and drowned. One of the places we went to see was the site where she died. I was having nightmares and wondered if my queasy feeling was due to the trauma of losing my old friend.

I felt sick for a month straight.

Figuring I was dying (and not entirely unhappy about that prospect because my life had never been particularly gleeful) I went to the doctor. She ran some tests.

I rather melodramatically asked her if I had a tumor.

She laughed and said "of a sort, I suppose. It will resolve on its own in approximately seven and a half months."

She gave me a referral to an OB/GYN.

For some reason when the nurse practitioner asked how I felt about being pregnant, it pissed me off. I didn't let on that the question made me angry, but I didn't like it. The answer, really, was surprised. I said I supposed I was okay with it. She asked me to elaborate, saying that I didn't sound convinced that I was okay. I said "well, I wasn't expecting it since I wasn't supposed to be able to have children. I'm fine with it." 

I guess she wanted me to be jumping for joy and walking about with balloons and banners announcing my thrill over my unexpected miracle pregnancy. I was okay with being pregnant (other than the non-stop nausea) but the rest of my life was a mess. I had a plethora of untreated psychological problems and nowhere to turn, and I hated my job.

After my son was born, my marriage started to fall apart. My now ex-husband and I were polar opposites, and both of our families were invasive and emotionally unsupportive. He's an Aspie and I had undiagnosed bipolar disorder type 2, borderline personality disorder, and obsessive-compulsive disorder. We were oil and water as temperaments went. As time went on, we became verbally abusive to each other and eventually started getting into fistfights. There was no saving the marriage.

We got divorced when our son was four. We started getting along better as platonic friends once we were no longer living together. Since that time we have on occasion had a roommate situation due to financial necessity, but I've always been glad enough for that to end. We're family now and I hope will be so till the end.

OctPoWriMo 2019: Day 3: Aunt Cie's Soapbox: Leave My Old Womb Alone (Choka)

Image by Solarus from Pixabay

lay off my old womb

I am not a candidate

for new motherhood

I can no longer achieve

reproduction, no

but it would not bring me joy

to endure the pain

of removing my old womb

it is my life choice

to keep my organs intact

despite a slightly

elevated chance that I

develop cancer

somewhere well on down the line

any womb is not

only worth saving when it

is available

to serve as incubator

~Cie~

Note:

The poem references the incidents of 2018 when my life continued revolving around my uterus despite the fact that the painful periods I had endured for 40 years had come to an end. In April of 2017, and again in April of 2018, I experienced post-menopausal bleeding, and in June of 2018, I underwent a D&C to determine the nature of the endometrial cells.

Had the cells been abnormal or the endometrial hyperplasia complex, this would have elevated my risk of future endometrial cancer by 36%, in which case I would have opted for a hysterectomy.

My cells were normal and it was simple hyperplasia. This only increases the risk of endometrial cancer by 1.6%. In the end, I felt that the risks posed by undergoing a hysterectomy, which is a major surgery no matter how casual a spin doctors try to put on it, were greater than opting for a wait and see approach. 

Post-menopausal endometrial hyperplasia can occur for a variety of reasons. It is more common in Caucasian women, in women over fifty, in women with a larger body type, and in diabetic women. I am a large Caucasian woman over fifty with a large body type who has diabetes. As it turned out, I also had a number of small fibroids in my uterus which were probably irritating the endometrium and causing it to overgrow.

My primary care physician wanted me to have a hysterectomy.

My OB/GYN wanted me to have a hysterectomy.

The gynecologic oncologist whom I consulted wanted me to have a hysterectomy.

This despite the fact that all of them quoted a very low increased likelihood of the type of hyperplasia I was experiencing ever developing into cancer.

I had one of those obnoxious trans-vaginal ultrasounds in February of this year which showed that the endometrial lining was still slightly thicker than normal but had greatly reduced in size and was within the perimeters of acceptable. I did not experience bleeding in April of this year. My OB/GYN wanted to do another D&C, but I said no. There was no presenting reason to undergo a procedure that leaves me feeling like someone has been up in my business with a cheese grater.

I consulted with a radiologist who specializes in a procedure called uterine artery embolization, which utilizes tiny radioactive grains to block the uterine arteries and cut off the blood supply to the fibroids so they shrink and cease to cause trouble. As opposed to a hysterectomy, which is a major surgery, this is a minimally invasive approach. The doctor told me I was not a candidate for the procedure because fibroids will shrink on their own after menopause, but she agreed with me that since I had not experienced post-menopausal bleeding this year, the endometrial thickness is within acceptable boundaries, and my hyperplasia is the low-risk variety for future development of cancer, a wait and see approach makes sense in my case. She discussed this with my OB/GYN and the gynecologic oncologist, and they agreed with her.

During The Year Of Focusing Way Too Much On My Uterus, I learned just how quick doctors are to recommend a hysterectomy to post-menopausal women. If a woman can no longer serve as a baby factory, let's just yank the old plumbing out, risks be damned. The fact is, major surgery is always risky although sometimes the risks of surgery are necessary. It is also a fact that the female reproductive system provides benefits to its owner even after menopause and unless it is malfunctioning in a way that makes life unacceptably uncomfortable or poses risks to a woman's health, it's best to leave it alone.

Uterus: it's not just for incubating infants. 

That's been Aunt Cie's Soapbox, Ladies! Hysterectomy is sometimes necessary, but it tends to be overprescribed, particularly in post-menopausal women.