In some kind of normal, sane world, I'd be able to write the following statement about Friday's doctor appointment:
"My doctor's appointment went well! Doctor #3 knew exactly what was wrong, and we have a wonderful plan to fix it."
I have no idea where that world exists, but I imagine it filled with rainbows, unicorns, and many adorable babies - of which I could have my pick.
Instead, in Katie's world, this line from RE#3 sums up my two-hour visit:
"I wish I didn't have my clinicals this morning, because now I'm going to be thinking about this all weekend."
Yes, that's right. My name is Katie, and I'm a medical freak. A mystery. Something to be marveled. And it actually has nothing to do with cysts.
I ovulated. On a triple dose of birth control.
Let's back up. After the surgery in April, I stayed on my original birth control pill (Micronor) and my gynecologist added a double dose of Norethindrone (meaning 10 mg a day). That's three birth control pills per day. Essentially, my ovaries and uterus should look like the eye of a hurricane: calm, with no activity.
Instead, the lining of my uterus - which should be thin to the point of near-bleed - is over 1 cm thick. And my right ovary showed a collapsing follicle, one that looks as though it recently popped out an egg.
I wish I knew what to say, but I don't anymore. I wish I were hopeful, but I'm not anymore. I'm at this loss of what to think or feel about my body. How is it possible that it reacts exactly opposite of how it should on that much progesterone? How is it possible that I don't ovulate when I'm not on birth control and I DO ovulate when I'm on birth control?
This should not be rocket science.
They are OVARIES. And a uterus! Women have had them for as long as we've existed. And how is it that no one can figure out how and why mine are miscommunicating with the rest of my body?
Reeling it back in . . . here's the plan:
I went off the pills immediately. My last dose was Thursday night. We will let my period come naturally. Then, we'll go back in for another ultrasound and try a new medication.
Because I haven't had a period since February and because my lining is so incredibly thick, we can expect Aunt Flo to be a raging bitch. The doctor warned me it would be a "doozy" with nausea, clots, and dizziness. The cramps are already in full force, so I can't wait until the bleeding starts and I feel like ripping someone's face off.
Normalcy. That's all I want. I want to go back to normal. Only I forget what normal feels like. Instead THIS is what feels normal - doctors, more doctors, pain, bleeding, hospitals, cysts, medication, hot flashes. I'm tired.
And I want to know when I get to experience the unicorns and rainbows and babies.