Monday 23 November 2009

Back story anyone?

I'm 28, fat and I have PCOS and a septate uterus.  I hate that word, 'septate'. Everytime I hear it or think it, 'septic' flashes into my brain... I have a septic uterus. Urgh.

I'm not ready to have children yet.... well, actually that's not true. I've been ready since I was 16. So, let me rephrase. My relationship and my financial situation is not quite ready. But it's wayyyyyyyyyy up there on my agenda. It's something I want to seriously start thinking about, like, yesterday.

Sat here approaching my 29th birthday in a few months, weighing 121kgs (the same weight I've been for the last 8 years or so give or take a few kilos), I just wish I hadn't burried my head in the sand for as long as I have. 

I was diagnosed with polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS) in late 2005.  In early 2006 I was having an internal ultrasound to determine if I had any cysts on my ovaries as part of my diagnosis. A minute or so in, with my legs spread wide and feeling rather vulnerable, the sonographer - a insensitive bitch nice woman in her early 30s - starts uttering just the thing you want to hear when you have a skinny police batton like contraption shoved up your nether regions by a stranger...

Sonographer: "Oh, hmm... ok, that's weird.  I've not seen that before."
Me: (veryyyyy concerned) "what? what haven't you seen before, what's weird? Is everything ok?"
Sonographer: "Just give me a minute, I need to try and understand what I'm looking at here."
Me: "oh... god... errrr, ok"

I mean, what choice did I have?  The balance of power clearly lay in her gloved hands.

What seems like hours passed...

Sonographer: "I'll be a back in a minute, I just need to go and get a colleague to take a look at this with me.  Don't move please."

Fuck.

She comes back with her colleague.  They take a look together and then reach for the shelves and pull of a binder. They start flipping through the pages, pointing at pictures and pointing at the ultrasound screen.  They were trying to match up my uterus! Oh crap!

Finally, the colleague leaves. I ask the sonographer to please explain what's going on. I can't handle much more of the suspense.

Sonographer: "Do you have two periods a month?"
Me: (what the hell??) "Umm, no. Why?"
Sonographer: "Are you periods extremely heavy and painful?"
Me: "No, when I get a period (about 4 times a year) its quite light and pain free.  Please, tell me what is going on."
Sonographer: "Well, it appears like you have two uteruses."
Me: "Excuse me? Two what? Is that even possible?!?!"

Turns out, it not only is possible to have two uteruses, but also two vaginas and two cervixes as well.  Who knew??  I certainly didn't. She booked me an appointment to see the consultant again. I went through a few more ultrasounds, 3D and 4D, and was diagnosed with a septate uterus. Not two uteruses at all, but rather one uterus that has a dividing wall of sorts splitting it into two cavities.  I can have a very simple operation to remove this, a hysteroscopy, but was told to go away and lose weight before it could be done.

If I don't have this operation, my chances of having a miscarriage are approximately 50% and if I did manage to carry a pregnancy my risk of pre-term labour are off the chart.  So, I need to have this operation if I ever want to have a baby of my own.

Life got in the way and here I am about three years later still needing to lose weight to have the operation.  Losing weight would also helped with the bad back I have as a result of a slipped disc caused by an assault two years ago and also with my symptoms of PCOS.  So why haven't I taken the bull by the horns years ago? I dunno.  Life, laziness and fear I guess. Fear that even if I lose weight I still won't be able to have my own family.

Enough of the psycho-analysis.

I'm angry!  Through my work, I was speaking with a top fertility specialist in the UK and he recommended me to a particular fertility surgeon in London to do the surgery. He said that because its a relative simple procedure, that the consultant telling me to lose weight first was bollocks. A brush off.  Fat people get brushed off by doctors all the freakin' time; doctors who rely on a bullshit BMI system to calculate someones health.  It's bollocks.

So, with renewed hope I went along to my GP and got a referral for said specialist.  I waited for my appointment which came through after six weeks.  I went along only to see somebody in the wrong department because my GP had got the referral wrong.  The registrar I saw made me another appointment for a months time to see the consultant I should have seen in the first place. 

I went to that appointment on the 11th of December and the consultant wasn't there, I saw one of his colleagues instead. After asking me whether I smoke (no), drink (no), have any heart problems (no) he said, incredibly awkwardly, that I would need to get my BMI down to under 30 before I will be considered for the elective procedure.

I didn't elect to have a uterus abnormality that requires me to have surgery before I can have a baby.  That was not something I chose! I've done my research. As far as procedure's go, it's a fairly simple one that would be over in less than 20 minutes.

I was dismissed from the clinic and driven into the depths of despair for the next week. 

So, now here I am.  28.7 years old.  I need to lose approx. 30kgs ASAP so I can have the hysterscopy and start thinking about having a family.  As it is, having PCOS is going to make it incredibly hard for me to lose weight.  If it takes me a year to lose the weight, that makes me almost 30. It can literally take years for someone with PCOS to conceive, even with fertility treatment. 

Tick, tick, tick tick

I need to get started!

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