The doctors appointment Saturday morning did not go as anticipated. One surprise was that in the days leading up to the appointment the issue completely changed (heh). What had been a quiet discreet Paint It Red party on the Lower Left Quadrant became a noisy Pee It Red party in the Urethral Hood. That required a pad, so that was new, but also good because it let me track what was going on. The party was in the front. Then the night before the appointment my vagina said, "hey, that looks like fun, let's do that too."
That's why when the doctor asked "is it bleeding outside or inside?" I said "outside, but overnight it moved inside" and thought, "but the inside bleeding isn't really a problem, because vaginas bleed, that's what they do."
He then said, "It might be on the outside and the inside." He leaned in. "Well, let's take a look - THAT'S A LOT OF BLOOD."
It was at that moment that I fell a step behind on the conversation.
I was still reacting to all this vulvar bleeding while he was in the hall calling for a speculum.
While he was cranking me open I was thinking "this can't be good for the delicate area around my urethra."
That's why when he said, "There's a lot of blood. We need to do a biopsy" I said, absolutely, because I saw no problem with him taking a tidy little slice of my labia, even if he needed to put in a tiny little stitch. Because I'm brave like that.
Then, when he threaded the device through the speculum I caught up.
"Wait what? You mean an endometrial biopsy -"
"No no no no no no," and my knees clamped shut. He stopped threading. "I mean I know you have to" (he started threading) "but I was just thinking the other night that when I had that years ago that was the most painful -"
"You'll feel a little pinch."
"Okay, okay, just give me a second." I steeled myself for a repeat of the painful experience I'd had before, during which I shook and gritted my teeth for five minutes. "Okay - "
And then it was over in less than a second. He reeled out the hole punch device while I whimpered, bit me with it (ca-chunk!) and I screamed (AAAAAAAAGH) and whipped it back out while I laughed hysterically (agh ha ha agh ha haHA HAHAHAHA sob.)
"That was a lot faster than the other one." I gasped.
"I made it fast." And that was nice.
Next time I hear the word biopsy for anything I'll take a Vicodin. Just for reading it. Just in case one is waiting for me around a corner.
I don't remember his exact words, but he thought he'd see a cyst in there but there was SO MUCH BLOOD he couldn't see, and that I'd need an ultrasound Monday. It just amazes me to think there'd be blood up there. Perhaps it's been trapped there for five years.
Had I known that a) endometrial biopsies would be involved and b) it would all dry up to nothing by the middle of Sunday and c) I would require LUBE to insert a tampon nowadays, then I bet I would never have gone. I could see that happening.
Because I don't want to be a step behind again I'm studying up for the ultrasound. I no longer think fibroids are the culprit, because they shrink up after the pause. What I'm doing now is planning for one huge ovarian cyst that I can blame for the ten pound weight gain this past month. I know of a woman who had an ovarian cyst removed and it contained fifty pounds of water.
Of course, that just means they'll be putting me under anesthesia and I'll say, "Wait - did you mean surgery when you said 'hysterectomy?'"