That's about the size of it

Well. I knew it wasn't good, but the extent of the lack of goodness was quite staggering.

I went to the consultant. Fortunately, for my own peace of mind, I saw the main man again. He had photos from the laparoscopy last month. Most people would have considered them to be utterly gross, however, I was pleased to be able to view them. He went through with me exactly what they were showing and when we got to the one that showed the now defunct left ovary, I was momentarily dumbstruck. He had shown me my right ovary, so I knew what it should look like. The left one? You almost couldn't see it as it was covered in thick, fibrous scar tissue that extended over an area roughly 12 x 6 cm (possibly more as the tube is usually around 10-12 cm and the ovary needs to be added too). Consumed - the only way to describe it. The scar tissue has started to encroach onto the ureter coming from my left kidney, which is an added complication.

So when I have been describing what feels like a 'ball' lodged in the left side of my pelvic region, I wasn't far off.

Long conversations, was very much listened too. Discussed a range of options, but only one really provides the high degree of certainty in terms of preventing recurrence later on. So sometime after Christmas, I will be hospitalised once more, for a hysterectomy.

I drove home from the hospital in a bit of a daze - swinging emotions, going from relief that something will be done and that i will be fixed, to terror at the prospect of a significant operation. Oh yeah, then there was the guilt at knowing I will be off work for a significantly extended period of time and the worry about the impact on my senior students and my colleagues. I know I need a slap around the head because the only person who really matters is me, right? Sometime, in a previous life, I was clearly a member of the Catholic church - I am so good at guilt.

I won't fixate on risk factors and such like - it has been explained and although I know there could be complications and changes to the plan, ultimately, two years of agony, debilitating pain and being emotionally battered by my inability to function like I know I could do if I was well, all of that will be in the past. I will recover and I will be fixed.

As the evening has worn on and I have spoken to my parents, reflected on the whole situation and on the conversations I have had with the consultant, I also know that I intend to make the original hospital fully aware that they were remiss in their intended actions. I wonder how many other, less feisty, less well supported women are suffering unnecessarily because they don't challenge the advice and treatment?

Also, as the pain has escalated during the evening the terror has receded and has been replaced by the absolute need to cut this damn thing right out of me for good.

One other positive - it will happen around my 40th birthday. So I now have a genuine excuse to ignore my birthday, avoid a party, and essentially pretend that I am not getting any older. I will be out of action and full of drugs, legitimately, and there's not a thing any of my family and friends can do about it ...hahahahahaha. I am not acknowledging that birthday and no-one can make me.

Bed. Up early tomorrow - need to avoid being stuck in traffic as has happened the last two days. Can't be late...