Polyps, U2, and Cage Fighting
My uterus has a polyp. It's not getting any bigger, but it's not going away either. It's just hanging out there, doing polyp stuff. Maybe reading a book and eating an apple. Or maybe jamming to the new U2 album. (As an aside, I really hope my uterus doesn't listen to U2. I don't have anything against the band per se, but I would prefer my internal organs' musical tastes lean more toward singer/songwriter than pop idol-turned-philanthropist-turned-corporate sell out.)
The good news is the polyp probably isn't harmful to my health in any way. It isn't cancerous or anything scary like that. The bad news is it may temporarily derail our plans to have Baby #2. We had a tremendous struggle getting pregnant the first time -- one diagnosis of testicular cancer followed by an orchiectomy (google it, I dare you), one diagnosis of low egg count (which meant my ovaries refused to play nice despite thousands of dollars of injections), and at least 100 invasive doctors' appointments that involved sticking numerous uncomfortable things in places I don't want to talk about. It took three very rough years, three teams of very expensive experts, and the generosity of a stranger, but it finally happened.
The hard part should have been behind us - that is, retrieving enough sperm and egg for doctors to forcibly join together in the romantic seclusion of a laboratory Petri dish. Mission accomplished; embryos miraculously created have been relaxing on ice since then. While the second pregnancy will still require medical procedures to achieve, I (perhaps naively) thought it would be much simpler than the first time. In fact, I had deep, stupid hopes that the second time around I could just waltz in, get pregnant, and waltz out. Technically, my husband wouldn't even have to be present. So I am very disheartened and frustrated that the road to #2 is starting out with new potholes to fall into and detours to get lost in. I've been through enough invasive treatments and fertility stress to last a lifetime; I wanted very badly to be done with all that.
Here comes the science: I guess the polyp is problematic because it could interfere with a fertilized egg's ability to implant into the uterus. I don't really know how. Maybe the polyp is a lot like the barren, dusty landscape of the moon whereas the rest of my uterus is a fertile green utopia stretching as far as the microscopic eye can see. Or maybe the two foreign bodies would just argue, like two small old men bickering over a parking space. Egg: "Excuse me, sir, I do believe you are in my spot." Polyp: "Tut tut! Not so, my friend! I was here first!" (In my head they have vaguely British accents.)
Possibly, if polyp met egg, it would be like a cage fighting match in there. Polly Polyp lands a hard left to Embry Yo. He goes down, but gets up. He’s still dazed, seeming bit wobbly but looking to take Yo to the ground. Polly is aggressive with his follow-up blows, but Embry Yo recovers. Polly's combos are just too much! Polly Polyp knocks Embry Yo down again! And that's the bell!! There's not enough Advil in all the world for me to handle that kind of violence.
The doctor will perform surgery to remove the polyp, and possibly everything else she finds in there (up to and including elderly Brits and/or pugilists), which doesn't sound like a party. In fact, it sounds bloody, painful, and invasive. It also sounds like more follow-ups and more waiting for #2, which doesn't sit well with my Master Planner and Control Freak side...nor with my underside, which prefers not to be penetrated by any more medical instruments, thankyouverymuch.
But what can I do? Not a damn thing, except begin contemplating how far I am willing to go down this road again. If there are bumps and hurdles, I have to traverse them whether I like it or not, while still trying to remain a relatively tolerably wife and effective mother. Like Matt Nathanson sings: "I'll be awful sometimes, weakened to my knees. But I'll learn to get by on little victories."
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| If your uterus needs a hug like mine does, this pillow is available on Etsy. For real. |
The good news is the polyp probably isn't harmful to my health in any way. It isn't cancerous or anything scary like that. The bad news is it may temporarily derail our plans to have Baby #2. We had a tremendous struggle getting pregnant the first time -- one diagnosis of testicular cancer followed by an orchiectomy (google it, I dare you), one diagnosis of low egg count (which meant my ovaries refused to play nice despite thousands of dollars of injections), and at least 100 invasive doctors' appointments that involved sticking numerous uncomfortable things in places I don't want to talk about. It took three very rough years, three teams of very expensive experts, and the generosity of a stranger, but it finally happened.
The hard part should have been behind us - that is, retrieving enough sperm and egg for doctors to forcibly join together in the romantic seclusion of a laboratory Petri dish. Mission accomplished; embryos miraculously created have been relaxing on ice since then. While the second pregnancy will still require medical procedures to achieve, I (perhaps naively) thought it would be much simpler than the first time. In fact, I had deep, stupid hopes that the second time around I could just waltz in, get pregnant, and waltz out. Technically, my husband wouldn't even have to be present. So I am very disheartened and frustrated that the road to #2 is starting out with new potholes to fall into and detours to get lost in. I've been through enough invasive treatments and fertility stress to last a lifetime; I wanted very badly to be done with all that.
Here comes the science: I guess the polyp is problematic because it could interfere with a fertilized egg's ability to implant into the uterus. I don't really know how. Maybe the polyp is a lot like the barren, dusty landscape of the moon whereas the rest of my uterus is a fertile green utopia stretching as far as the microscopic eye can see. Or maybe the two foreign bodies would just argue, like two small old men bickering over a parking space. Egg: "Excuse me, sir, I do believe you are in my spot." Polyp: "Tut tut! Not so, my friend! I was here first!" (In my head they have vaguely British accents.)
Possibly, if polyp met egg, it would be like a cage fighting match in there. Polly Polyp lands a hard left to Embry Yo. He goes down, but gets up. He’s still dazed, seeming bit wobbly but looking to take Yo to the ground. Polly is aggressive with his follow-up blows, but Embry Yo recovers. Polly's combos are just too much! Polly Polyp knocks Embry Yo down again! And that's the bell!! There's not enough Advil in all the world for me to handle that kind of violence.
The doctor will perform surgery to remove the polyp, and possibly everything else she finds in there (up to and including elderly Brits and/or pugilists), which doesn't sound like a party. In fact, it sounds bloody, painful, and invasive. It also sounds like more follow-ups and more waiting for #2, which doesn't sit well with my Master Planner and Control Freak side...nor with my underside, which prefers not to be penetrated by any more medical instruments, thankyouverymuch.
But what can I do? Not a damn thing, except begin contemplating how far I am willing to go down this road again. If there are bumps and hurdles, I have to traverse them whether I like it or not, while still trying to remain a relatively tolerably wife and effective mother. Like Matt Nathanson sings: "I'll be awful sometimes, weakened to my knees. But I'll learn to get by on little victories."
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