All Up In My Buisness

When last we met, we were discussing my sudden hospitalization, blood transfusion, and anemia diagnosis.

After I was discharged, I called my dad and stepmom on the way to get my iron prescription.

My stepmom (a nurse), was quick to advise, "Get a stool softener while you're at the pharmacy. Iron pills can cause constipation."

Whoohoo, let's add that to the list.

I called my assistant principal again to let her know that I wouldn't be in the next day either, since I'd gotten barely any sleep in the hospital. She assured me that I could just come back when I was ready.

Wednesday afternoon after some much-needed rest, I made my three appointments. Thus began a whirlwind journey of six months of appointments.

Primary care was first; after my exam, I was promptly told that I needed to lose ten pounds. Thanks, I guess?

She called after my bloodwork two days later and informed me that my levels were off and prescribed me vitamin D and told me to get over-the-counter multivitamins (apparently Mom was right to make us take them as children).

Then the gynecologist. After the first consultation and annual exam, I was sent to get an ultrasound.

If you've had one of these, you already know where this story is going.

"Drink water an hour before, you need to have a full bladder."

As I now know from social media, these appointments inevitably run behind, so I sat tapping my heels and squirming in my chair a full 45 minutes after my scheduled appointment time - for which I'd arrived early. This somewhat helped me to not think about the co-pay I'd given as I checked in for the appointment, which had made me blanch for a moment.

The tech - a sweet older lady - was clearly used to this, and let me use the bathroom after the external ultrasound. Then I was instructed to take off my bottoms and cover myself with the flimsy paper sheet until she returned.

I'm very grateful to that tech - in a vulnerable moment, with my leg resting against her chest and her arm between my legs as she inserted the probe, she continued to check in with me and try to help me relax while also moving as quickly as she could. After we finished, she gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder and a wish for good luck before leaving me to clean up and redress myself.

Two days later at my next appointment, my doctor informed me that I had two fibroids - one deeper in the muscle, and one that had entered my uterine cavity. This, he explained, was the reason for my sudden health troubles; the tumor was sucking up a lot of blood, and all of that blood had to go somewhere. Hence the heavy periods.

He also explained that it is extremely common for women, especially women of color, to have fibroids and have no idea, thinking that heavy periods are just something normal to have to suffer through.

I was scheduled for an in-office hysteroscopy to get a real-time view of the fibroids, and from there to make a decision about treatment.

Before that appointment happened, I got a message from him to inform me that I had an abnormal pap smear and also had to have a colposcopy done to make sure that there were no abnormal cells. But I couldn't have both of those procedures done at once, so I would have to make another appointment.

Here is where I'll take a moment, dear reader, to explain to you what kind of a doctor I have.

I was extremely lucky to have been referred to him upon my discharge from my blood transfusion. Not only was he very attentive to my concerns and answered any questions that I have, but also did everything that he could to make me feel at ease. Which was great because he was literally in my business every two weeks for months.

He very clearly loves his job, evidenced by his habit of tearing off a sheet of paper towel and sketching things out so that you know what he's explaining to you. As well as his excitement to let me see the live feed from inside my uterus while he was performing the hysteroscopy.

I still have the picture I sent to one of my girlfriends of all of the equipment laid out for the procedure as I anxiously waited for the doctor while sitting Winnie-the-Pooh style on the exam table with the ever-present paper cloth on my lap. I was terrified, wishing that there had been someone I loved to be there to hold my hand and distract my anxiety from the several instruments about to be pushed inside of me.

I'd taken Tylenol an hour before my appointment on the advice of one of my girlfriends who'd had several such procedures done during her IVF journey - to this day, I'm so grateful to have had her throughout this whole process to give me advice and support. However, that had worn off before my procedure had even started; almost all of these appointments were late, too.

After another description of what was going to happen, I put my feet in the stirrups and scooted down two or three times until I was at the edge of the table, and he got started.

The procedure itself was more uncomfortable than painful. Several rods of increasing size were inserted to dilate my cervix wide enough for the camera. After the camera was in, he said, "Turn your head and look at the screen. You see that? That's your fibroid."

I remember describing it to my sister as "looking like The Rock's bicep." Big and veiny, protruding so far into my uterine cavity that it almost took up the whole screen. He snipped a sample for a biopsy, all the while chattering excitedly about how cool it is to see the inside of a uterus and how it can make diagnosing things so much easier, before finally taking everything out and helping me to sit up. He showed me the sample (again, he really loves his job and thinks it's the best thing ever) and complimented me on how calm I was before instructing me to make a new appointment for the colposcopy, where he'd also give me the results from the biopsy.

Clearly, he hadn't seen the tear I hastily wiped away as I had lain down.

The appointment was set for two weeks later, and I headed to the car to head to work.

Remember that Tylenol I mentioned earlier? Here's why that was important. Almost as soon as I got into my car, I was hit with cramps more violent than I had ever experienced in my life. I was on the verge of tears in pain as I drove to work, on the phone with my dad to give him the updates. The rest of the day was pure torture, confiding in my friends at work while trying to hide it from the students (trust me, kids can be incredibly nosy). When I finally got home, I flopped into my bed and didn't move for a few hours.

I think that here is a good time to talk about my anxiety during this time in my life. I've always had a little social anxiety that played upon my shyness. Job interviews, talking to people I didn't know, speaking in front of people I did know, and phone calls would always make me queasy and uncomfortable. But the anxiety that I was feeling now was completely different.

There were times that it completely crippled me, leaving me curled up in bed crying or staring off into space or fighting off the increased heart rate, overthinking, and shaking of an anxiety attack. Unfortunately, these sometimes happened while I was sitting in front of students and had to use deep breathing beneath my mask to try and keep myself together.

Though this really was one of the most traumatizing and elongated experiences of my life, I'm so grateful that I had a circle - of family and friends - who were there with me every step of the way. I know that I could call or text them at any time, and they'd be there for me. Even when I felt like I was doing too much, constantly reminding myself that there were people who had it far worse, they were always there to remind me that I had never gone through anything like this before and that it was okay to lean on them.

If you don't have people like that in your life, you need to find them. I'm so blessed to have so many.

Somewhere between the hysteroscopy and the colposcopy, I met the hematologist for the first time. She reviewed my results from when I was admitted to the hospital, and compared them to my results from the blood drawn at that appointment. While my levels had improved, my hemoglobin was still troubling her. I informed her of my fibroids diagnosis, and she informed me that it was almost definitely the cause of my anemia. I set up monthly appointments to check my levels, and she warned me that if my levels did not improve, then I would have to get iron infusions.

Whoopee.

After having to reschedule the colposcopy appointment because my period started mere hours before, it ran late again; this time, a student doctor who was going to be assisting/observing the procedure came in to chat with me before the procedure. While I had no problem with her being there, in hindsight I wished she hadn't been. Having two people all up in my business for the procedure was...a lot.

Another friend had warned me that they use vinegar to clean your cervix before using a camera to look at the cells and see if anything looked abnormal, so I was ready for the slight stinging. What I was not prepared for was my doctor explaining that he saw several abnormal cells and needed to take a biopsy - and before he took the biopsy, he moved out from between my legs to let the student doctor have a look.

I was already more scared that he'd found something wrong, but having her down there too was a little more than I was honestly prepared to deal with that day, so I zoned out for a moment as he excitedly explained what they were seeing to the student while he resumed his place. I zoned back in just in time to hear him tell me that he was going to take a large sample since he'd be able to get all of the cells out right then.

Even so, I was not prepared for how painful it was to have a chunk of my cervix removed. The sample he showed me afterward didn't look big, but it most certainly felt that way. And I was extremely grateful that this appointment was at the end of the day, so I didn't have to go to work afterward.

Another appointment was set for two weeks later to view the results and discuss options for treatment.

Despite everything that was happening, I kept being thankful that I was an intervention teacher rather than a classroom teacher; the hours that I had to take off of work took a toll by themselves without also having to deal with substitute plans. This increased flexibility would prove invaluable as I planned the next steps - and dealt with further diagnoses.