Last week hubby was watching a brief news report and it mentioned the Earthquakes in NZ and how it had been 3 years already. Usually when the anniversary of a natural disaster passes us by it is met by a secondary stop and a moment to pause and think before rapidly moving on.
Yet when hubby mentioned this report, I quite literally stopped and remembered.
Remembering also that it has been three years since my first appointment with my Specialist. I remember it clearly because my appointment was postponed as the Specialist had family in NZ and had spent the entire day trying to make contact with them.
The reason this particular appointment resonates with me is that I was in a dreadful mind space, I'd been shuttled from Doctor to Specialist, to Hospital back to Specialist, then shunted off to a new Specialist. My head spun as I was caught up in a roller-coaster of medical crap. On top of all this I was still reeling from the reality that my Endometriosis; which previously had been declared "cured" or perhaps "in remission" would be a far more apt term; had returned. I had spent the previous 12 months telling my stupid body that the pain was obviously ALL in my head - that without Endometriosis I should be like any other woman - Pain Free.
I second guessed myself thinking that we were dealing with Secondary Infertility and just as I came to grips with that news - I found the lump.
Its funny I often look back and wonder how I managed to get myself to the point I did, especially when today I am meandering along a path that apart from a few bumps and bruises is, on a whole, relatively cruisey (residual anxiety aside.) Often I wonder if it was really as bad as I thought it was.
Then I started re-reading the initial month of this blog; my own place to record how I was feeling at the time and although my words were not streamlined, my characterisation was inadequate and my plot skewed in places; I saw the enormity of where I once was. Had it just been standard Endometriosis, I'm sure I would have had a moment or two but when the words of possible Malignant lumps and biopsies were bandied about - is it any wonder I fell apart?
I was frightened.
Not only was there the gnawing worry in the back of my mind that it could be worse than it was, the thought of enduring yet another operation (that in itself is frightening enough… especially when it appeared my body was steadily reacting more to each successive operation.) Confounding those issues were the uncertainty of my relationships, my results and my mental state.
Not to mention I still wasn't guaranteed a baby.
Three years later; I am still battling the after effects of anxiety. Anxiety that has reached out its tentacles and caught other areas in my life. Silly trivial things that have nothing to do with babies and hormones and health - though I'm almost positive the hormones are exacerbating the anxiety. My scars have faded to small white lines, barely visible upon the surface of my belly apart from a slight dimpling. My pain threshold has either grown with time , or I've managed to effectively control it by taking painkillers BEFORE the pain beings. I'm unsure if I still have active Endometriosis, the pain leads me to believe I do but I figure if I can manage my pain and symptoms, then I don't need to put myself under the care of the professionals - my husband and MIL may beg to differ "will you PLEASE sort yourself out THIS year" meant in the nicest possible way. They do care about me. And through it all; I'm still standing - that is a definite positive right?
Yet I still don't have that baby, though this now attributed to other reasons.
I've come a long way from the terror I felt back then, facing these appointments. I still have no idea which path is the way forward for me and I know its time to stop sticking my head in the sand and start taking further control but every time I read something about this horrible disease, I sink into the depths of despair because there is NO cure. Everything I've thought I might do in the future, when I am sure I no longer want another baby (more on that topic soon,) are no longer an option. Well they remain options but not optimal options judging from my minimal research. Today though I am okay with that. Three years ago I would have been sobbing when the goal posts were moved an inch - today they are being moved by metres and I'm completely and utterly fine to just roll with the changes and see where my future goes, all the while carrying this invisible disease by my side.