Ostensibly Ostentacious Ow-some Ovary

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Ah, reproductive organs.  What can I say about them other than, THOSE NOXIOUS WADS OF HOSTILE FLESH SHOULD DIVE INTO A FLAMING PIT?

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Ah ha!  I now have a deeper uter-standing of my plight.

GI fuckeree aside, which really is at the core of my strife, it seems problems come in caravans.  Misfortune is a happy, social traveler and loves to bring friends.  Going on day six of weighing the pros and cons of going in for fluid resuscitation again, the pain in my RLQ had reached critical mass and I was on the verge of hypovolemic shock.  Manchild actually had to fireman carry me down the stairs and out to the truck because my blood pressure had gotten so low I couldn’t sit up without graying out.  I lost the ability to process speech.  It was all just noise.  I guess confusional states are common in severe dehydration.  Me, confused?  It was just this one time (don’t listen to her lies).

Stick a fork in my eye, I’m done!  IV fluids always make me feel a smidgen, if not loads better.  I have a difficult time maintaining euvolemia for multiple reasons (‘they’ have suspected diabetes insipidus in the past, but doing a water deprivation challenge doesn’t seem like a good idea given everything else), biggest one of all being the fact that oral hydration does very little when I’m in the throes of a Crohnsmageddon.  I went into the palace of pain for more delightful IV fluids, and a shot of the good stuff so I’d be able to sleep through the night while dreaming about my *pain medication refill that was due to me the very next day.  This anticipated 2-3 hour visit turned into 8+ hours and a transfer.

Eight hours of my ER doc yelling at lab techs and apologizing profusely for the confusion.  His eyelashes were so long….they were like rays of anti-matter shooting out of a black hole.  They sort of freaked me out, but we won’t talk about my new found fear of long lashes.  Dilaudid does some wild things to the brain’s executive functioning.  Alright, why was Dr. Longdonglashes so upset?  The machine that analyzes creatinine for the comprehensive metabolic panel decided to die while it was processing my blood.  I didn’t care.  I was just there for the saline and drugs.  Chill the F out, dude.  When the machine was deemed broken/inaccurate, a courier was called to transport one of my blood samples to a different hospital lab.  This creatinine shit must be really important.

We waited.  And waited.  And waited.  I got pain relief not once, but TWICE.  Oh my pretty purple pony, what I wouldn’t give to feel that lack of pain regularly.  A single tear falls from my eye as I think about it.  It’s a beautiful thing.

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Before fluids and hyrdromorphone.  I turn yellow when exposed to fluorescent lighting.  Trump?  Are you my Daddy?

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After fluids and drugs!  Sweet, sweet relief.

The first doctor, old dude with normal length lashes, decided I should have a CT because I had peritoneal signs.  But when don’t I?  My entire abdomen is a tank full of pirahnas who enjoy the occasional meal of bowel or kidney.

Old dude left, which is when Dr. LDL stepped in.  He really wanted to do a contrast CT, and I said, “No, you really don’t want to do a contrast CT…check that chart.  Kidney disease, yo.”  Oral contrast w/o contrast it is.  Manchild’s roommate from his stint in the ROK was the CT tech.  How cool, how embarrassing.  I grilled him about hooker and stripper usage, but he maintains they didn’t do anything other than sit around and drink massive quantities of Miller Lite.  Blerrrrrrrg.

Besides enteritis and ileitis, that big painful mass in my RLQ turned out to be a large hemorrhagic ovarian cyst that had ruptured and was leaking blood into my abdomen.  The internal trauma from crapping my brains out and the ruptured cyst had caused the ovary to turn on its axis.  Something called torsion.  I think of it as a twisted testicle.  My pain detection system is all out of whack because I have such a strong knowledge of my anatomy after a kazillion CTs, MRIs and X-rays.  Sometimes I forget that even though a vast majority of my problems are chronic in nature, I’m not immune to acute (ugly) stuff.  Attempting to ignore the pain is sometimes a bad idea.

Thus began the transfer process and pending U/S to assess blood flow to that stupid sack of she-shit.  It was presumed I’d need surgery to exorcise the odious ovary, but as I told Ms. Johnna, if it’s bleedin’, “the bitch hasn’t been choked out yet”.  This turned out to be the case, so I was kept on fluids and had my hematocrit monitored throughout the night to make sure that there wasn’t severe hemorrhaging.  Conservative treatment for it is basically birth control to halt ovulation and occasional ultrasounds to see if it eventually goes away.  Should I find myself in an extra-extreme amount of pain, it’s likely caused by ovarian infarction, which as I understand it is a bad thing.  The idea of an oophorectomy will be revisited if it continues to cause problems and excessive pain.  I wanted it gone yesterday, but let’s not cut her open again unless there’s absolutely no other choice.  Pain is fun!  Yay, pelvic pain!

*I was finally able to connect with my primary doctor about the pain medication debacle that lead to five days of unnecessary agony, which in turn lead to a few not-so-whimsical posts about abandonment issues and starving to death (I know, five days is nothin’ compared to what some people go through – but it’s about perspective, people).  The upside to this is if I had pain medication at home, the likelihood of me sputtering into the ER like an evinrude would have been minimal.  Though it turned out ‘fine’, given the possible (rare) sequelae of hemorrhagic cyst rupture and torsion, it’s better to be safe than sorry.

I’m having a great deal of penis envy at the moment.  I should have been born a dude.

 

20 thoughts on “Ostensibly Ostentacious Ow-some Ovary

  1. Ugg! I feel your pain. I had two hemorrhagic ovarian cysts (my left ovary hates me) before an exploratory laparotomy, tubal ligation, and endometrial ablation. Not fun. Dilaudid, however, is pretty good stuff! ๐Ÿ˜‰

    Liked by 2 people

    • Yucky! That makes me cringe! Have they settled down at all?

      I slept so incredibly well, even with all of the interruptions, for the first time in what felt like a month thanks to that wonderful stuff. And it slows down the ๐Ÿ’ฉ. I’m always looking for an excuse to use the turdmoji. ๐Ÿ˜ƒ

      Liked by 2 people

      • They have. Now I know the difference between what an ovarian cyst feels like (still not pleasant) and hemmoragghic cysts (mine was a burning feeling), but I never had one rupture. Owie!
        Lol. Hopefully the ๐Ÿ’ฉslow down doesn’t cause any more discomfort or issues. Torsion is bad juju! I had a friend have to have an emergent oopherectomy due to just random torsion. Stupid girl pieces. Still dunno if I want junk hanging out and getting in my way though.
        If you need a giggle, look up the buzzfeed “article” on sexy undies for guys!

        Liked by 1 person

  2. My Mum always said that women were cursed to be born with our junk inside. Not only because when shit happens there you feel it all over, but it meant were were literally more connected to our parts than Men. She also believed ‘God was having a joke when he designed men’s genitals’ – there’s beautiful Adonis but when he drops his kecks he’s got the last turkey in the shop. She ended up having a radical hysterectomy because of cancer – they left her one random ovary, floatin’ about. She never needed HRT because that bad boy was pumping enough female hormone for two. Ah, Chronic Pain – makes you ignore signs that could be serious. I thought I had trapped wind or severe IBS when really my Pancreas was trying to kill me. I still get twinges that make me shudder. I ended up in and out of hospital for 4 weeks spread over 2 months. Oramorph does nothing for that pain. Never seen ponies. However once I did jam about eating Goulash and ‘Dooomplings’ when treated for a Seizure in A&E. It was reported back that I changed accent many times and was rather crude. C’est la vie.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Holy fuck, woman, how do you rate getting EVERYTHING that’s painful, unpleasant, and mortifying? Jee-zus kree-zus.

    I can’t believe they didn’t whip you into the OR and take the sonovabitch out, on the spot. You can bet that if you HAD been born a dude and had testicular torsion, you would have been in that OR, and had the torsion reduced, the offending oval organ tacked down so it couldn’t reoffend, and stiff surveillance measures put in place. Balls are important, this we know. Ovaries? Hell, you’ve got two of ’em, right???

    I’m so sorry you are living in a shit tornado right now. I sure hope this dies down to at least baseline dull roar. I wish it would all just clear up so life could now recommence. I’ve heard of that happening to other people. Would be nice, wouldn’t it?

    Liked by 1 person

    • Pure luck! I can’t get my money tree to sprout though. After the U/S I was told ‘it isn’t that bad’, it’s just a little wopperjawed. Take the fucking thing out anyhow? I don’t need or want it. Sorry, no can do. I can’t believe I didn’t think of my stupid girl bits being a source of pain. It’s not the first time they’ve tried to kill me. Fucking UTI, cysts blowing up, and a smoldering case of ileitis…. when I was asked if I needed something stronger than tramadol for pain, I should have said yes. It’s not doing a whole lot, but at least my legs aren’t burning as badly. Fucking hell.

      I hope the armpit of America is treating you well. Have you had your first appointment yet? Forgot to mention, if you need a dog-sitter, I have a friend in Cleveland, plus my family lives 1-2 hours away. Lemme know if you need phone #’s.

      Liked by 2 people

      • Uh, I dunno why they wouldn’t want to treat you to a quick laparoscopic clean-out. Makes no sense.

        Wow, I really do need a dog sitter, was planning to board her somewhere, because a this Friday I’m booked for 120 minutes in the scanner. Head, cervical, thoracic. Sumbitch. I’m trying to get my head wrapped around this thing enough to write a post, no luck so far. Plus which I’m not sure how much to disclose, given that random family members could access it. I might start a passworded series. Short version: looking like neuromuscular badness (we knew this, of course, but didn’t want to hear it from the second opinion). Sonovabitch. My hands are in spasms. Later.

        Liked by 2 people

        • Look for the little microphone on the virtual keyboard on your phone – if you can tap that, you can do voice-to-text. It works with the wordpress app and google hangouts on my phone, but not with mobile chrome – yet. There’s probably an app for that too. The only problem is that it doesn’t understand my syntax because my speech is wacky. Sometimes it just sits there and “thinks”, then asks “what the fuck are you talking about?” “does not compute”

          I’m asking around – one negative so far, and it happens to be the one person who stayed in Cleveland. Everyone else got smart and moved away. ๐Ÿ˜„

          Liked by 1 person

          • No worries about Miss Dawg, she can board somewhere for the afternoon. She’s used to it. Google voice doesn’t understand me either, and it’s a pain in the ass trying to go back and correct it! I use the Swype keyboard, so I can just use my index finger to swipe through and it learns my weird ways. That way I don’t have to tap, which is a sure way to set off a spam๐Ÿ˜ 

            Really, when we both get healthy we should go on a trip. Where would you like to go?

            Liked by 1 person

              • I do believe it’s possible to do Canada with your US driver’s license if you still have one. Besides, we can’t do the Al Can till probably June, so plenty of time to get your passport! We’ll take a case of IVF and not have to open it, because just getting the hell out of Dodge and into the fresh air and beauty will make us both new women.

                Liked by 1 person

  4. Dear universe: You have dealt enough shit to the good peeps. Kindly leave us all alone now and pick on someone your own size, like Trump. Have him spend three to seven days on the hopper crapping his brains out, you know, bigly.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. Pingback: The Case of the Homicidal Gonad (and everything else) | Polishing Dookie

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