I, girl?

Well...the time is coming: May 29th I will be undergoing robotic endometriosis excision and lysis of adhesions surgery, including an oopherectomy, at UCLA Santa Monica campus.  The surgical consult appointment at UCLA Gynecology was painful (physically and emotionally) but reassuring at the same time.

As any woman with endometriosis knows, physical pelvic examinations can be (in my experience they ALWAYS are)  quite excruciatingly painful.  But, I feel confident in the team being led by the surgeon who specializes in pelvic pain and female reproductive diseases, issues and surgical repair via the DaVinci robot.  The recovery from this upcoming surgery is only resulting in 4 weeks being off of work, for which I am really grateful.  I will likely only be in the hospital for one night, which has been the standard for most of the operations I've had in the past.  And I know UCLA is an incredible educational and medical conglomeration, so speaking in a purely technical, pragmatic perspective I am not concerned about my surgery.  

However, emotionally is a completely different story:

This is my fifth endo-related surgery and hopefully it is my LAST.  Emotionally this surgery has been the hardest for me to wrap my head and heart around-- by far.  I will be permanently losing my ability to have any genetically-related children.  This is a big deal.  I already feel pretty alone but this loss has really sent me reeling.  I feel like, as an only child (and an adopted one at that), who will likely be unmarried and childless, that I will be experiencing my life without that central connection that keeps us tethered, that silver cord that is our connection to someone above all else.  This has sent so many emotions through me: fear, sadness, anger, confusion, wonder, jealousy, worry.

I have an amazing, and quite large, network of amazing people in my life so I do not mean to minimize the significance and strength of which I gain from each and every one of them; however, though there is the saying "friends are the family you choose" (or something like that), I do not know that I agree with the thought. Yes we choose our friends; however there is something about family and the silver cord,which is how I describe it, that is above all other connections, and that which I believe truly connects us to the world, life, each other and ourselves. 

(I am well aware of the option of adoption, as I am adopted myself but that does not lessen the process I find myself going through, so please do not comment to me that I can always adopt)

I find myself contemplating, examining and questioning my femininity during this process also...not that I will be less female per say.  But more relating to the things that I've gone through with this disease and the organs I've lost and will be losing in a few short weeks, have done nothing but cause havoc in my body and my life.  As a result of this suffering, which has been extensive and impacting my life for nearly 18 years (please note I'm only 31 years old) in countless ways, I find myself in a state of near desperation.  I have paid all the dues, so to speak with periods, PMS, cramps, tampons/pads, the horrific embarrassment of bleeding through my pants at times, sore boobs, and of course endometriosis, and will not be able to enjoy the benefits, and the purpose of these trials as a woman. Physically this disease would not necessarily be easier to experience would I be able to bear, or at least be genetically related to my own children, but at least there would be some point to the suffering. I feel like the results of this upcoming surgery, plus the surgeries I've had in the past, will be taking that away. That is a big pill to swallow so to speak, much much larger than I had anticipated, so much so I fear I am beginning to choke on it.

I cannot imagine what I will do, or what my life will look like should this surgery not work.  I take my spiritual life and practices very seriously, including meditation, affirmations, years of deep inner work and reflection, praying and self-exploration.  I've gone into each surgery as positive as possible, having done countless heartfelt affirmations, meditations, counseling and healing work, and allowed myself to have real, genuine hope it the outcome being the best possible.  And initially after each operation I've emerged feeling amazing, having NONE of my debilitating symptoms. People in my life tell me how proud they are of me after my surgeries-- as if the work I've done going into my surgeries, and healing overall, has had an impact on the improvement I experience immediately post-operatively.

However, with each surgery I've been blessed with a reprieve of symptoms and have been able to enjoy life, the longest being a year and a half after my hysterectomy, one of the shortest being about six months after my most recent excision surgery.  What good does six good months do?  It completely stops the momentum of life.  In the past six months of my life I've had major life changes: quit a job, accepted a job (which I absolutely love more than I ever could have imagined), moved, and most unfortunately experienced a relapse in this disease.  Don't get me wrong, I completely appreciate and am grateful for these reprieves and brief experiences of remission; and boy do I live it up.  I am able to enjoy traveling, hiking, hanging out with friends, road trips, yoga, versus when my I'm in a relapse as I am now when my life consists of laying on the floor or couch, vomiting, unbelievable pain, debilitating nausea, among other things. The thing I'm struggling with and questioning now is, does the joy brought about by the remissions make the pure hell of relapses worthwhile? I am actually concerned about my emotional and mental health after this surgery. I just do no know what I will do or where I will turn should I have yet another relapse. I am trying to find the balance between being hopeful that the surgery will do what I so desperately need and give my exhausted body and soul a break but also with being realistic with what I know about this awful disease and the risks associated with surgery.

Emotionally the relapses are absolutely deviating and traumatizing. I feel like a complete failure when the symptoms return and each time I've experienced this I hide the symptoms as long as I can out of fear that I will have disappointed someone: for if my spiritual work had a positive impact on my surgery and outcome then I must've done something to make the relapse occur. While I intellectually know that may not be the case, the core of me feels this.