This afternoon I had an appointment to see my consultant gynaecologist, the one who filled my stomach full of gas, poked a hole through my belly button, stuck a camera in there and then moved my ovaries without permission so he could look behind them.
I fear him.
I told him things that I don't want to tell you and he asked me questions that I don't want to tell you and I gave him answers that I don't want to tell you and all in all it was a fun conversation! He examined me.... I yelped, and not in a good way.
All in all it boils down to this, he first examined me 2 years ago, and after the laparoscopy, he diagnosed me with moderate to severe endometriosis. Then just over a year ago, after 3 months of Prostap and HRT, he reduced the diagnosis to just moderate and advised I stay on the Prostap for another 6-9 months. Today he said that after examination, the disease has come back with avengeance and I'm straight past moderate and into the far side of severe. I wish this was just something I was dramatically over playing to get a reaction, or attention, or whatever people who pretend to be worse off than they are do it for, but I'm not. He is referring me to another consultant at another hospital, who will, in his words "try and cut it out". So I'm on another waiting list, for another operation.
Through all this, I'm very aware that no operation does anything to stop the progression of this disease, that all they can do is hold it back with medication (tried that) or cut out what it produces (apparently about to try that).
Did you see that documentary about a little village where adults with special needs live together? (IT'S SLIPPY JOHN!) And there was that man who could only ask questions, he couldn't hold a conversation, if you asked him a question he would only say a colour in answer?
Today is not black, I would not go that far, I don't have special needs or live in a special village, but it's certainly blue.
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