Dramatically, I add to the clan of fellow-sufferers

Friday was supposed to be a tiresome-but-necessary day, in which I spent the morning trekking over to the Mothership Hospital for a pre-operation appointment (weight, height, MRSA swabs, and recounting your medical history), and the afternoon facing down the Forces of Entropy at work. But as I was putting my shoes on my mother called.

‘Hi, Mum! Sorry, I’m just about to go out, I’ve got a hospital appointment. Yes, for that operation. It’s routine, I’m fine… Mum? Are you OK?’

No, she wasn’t OK. Not at all.

Do you remember back in April my mother had some issues with her lady-parts, and, as I am clearly the expert on all the things that can go wrong with lady-parts, she called me for advice? She was originally diagnosed with a burst ovarian cyst, but she had a couple of appointments with a specialist (I nagged. I am a good nagger), and it turned out that she actually had, or also had, an ovarian dermoid cyst. I don’t think I’ve talked about that on the blog at all, because it got drowned out by the big family wedding, and by my Dad’s heart-attack, and my own vapourings, and H’s being made redundant, and anyway, Mum was being sensible for once and doing what her specialist told her. And it was her medical stuff, not mine. Also, I lost my left ovary to a gigantic dermoid cyst when I was 18, and the whole situation was Just Plain Weird.

On Friday, my poor Mum had woken up in severe pain, so bad she was sick, and didn’t know what to do. So she called her eldest daughter, fellow-cyst-experiencer, and expert on all things lady-part.

I told her very firmly to go and see a doctor right now this minute. It sounded like ovarian torsion – the cyst twists and cuts off circulation to itself and part of the ovary. That is how I lost my ovary – the torsion actually tore poor Kumquat across as well, so it was a bit of a mess by the time they got me into the operating theatre. On the other hand, cysts can and often do untwist again before things get that bad (which also happened to me a few times before the Final Wrench). And I told Mum that if it got any worse, or she felt faint or dizzy, to skip the doctor and go to hospital right away. And that I’d call her back in fifteen minutes to make sure she’d got an emergency GP appointment, also, she was on no account to drive herself, was her husband there? He was, and when I called back, she’d got an appointment for that morning. I talked her through symptoms to watch out for and when to panic, and promised to call back at lunch-time.

My own hospital appointment was boringly fine, apart from the fact my heart was racing and my blood-pressure was a tad high. I said to the nurse that I was worried about my mother, and she agreed that’d be that, then, before sticking a cotton-bud up my nose. She also swabbed my bikini line, and I didn’t even have the mental energy to care that I haven’t trimmed it for about a million years and look like a yeti in electric-blue knickers. She gave me a provisional date for the surgery, which happens to be H’s birthday, which I think should complete the full house of Celebrations My Innards Have Fucked Over. And then I rushed back outside and called my mother again.

She had seen the GP, who had given her better pain medication, and got her an appointment to see her specialist on Monday, and told her pretty much word for word what I had said about dizziness, sickness, when to panic, when to go to A&E. Right. OK.

I called her again yesterday evening, and the cocodamol was helping, but making her feel sleepy (well, it would). She still felt wretchedly uncomfortable, but was hoping to last the weekend. I told her not to be unnecessarily brave, and to go the hell to A&E if she felt even the tiniest bit worse.

She then said she really felt for me, going through all this pretty much every month. I pointed out ovarian torsion was really rather more serious than adenomyosis/endometriosis/whateverthefuckitis. She said yes, but my pain was clearly about this bad regardless, and I should know, as I’d had ovarian torsion too, and, well, yes, and no. And maybe. And it depends. Pain is funny like that. I think sometimes my period pain is indeed as severe as some of my episodes of ovarian torsion, but it sucks much less because I’m not scared during my periods (except of the pain, obviously) and I was scared I was fucking dying when I lost my Kumquat.

And, anyway, it seems sad and peculiar to me that my mother should be made to get a grip on this empathy thing by going through the same thing I did, rather than by the far easier and more practical method of using one’s imagination and intelligence. Or, in other words, the Universe is being a dick about this.

I called Mum again today, and thank fuckitty she was feeling a lot better. So I have now relaxed. And I can get on with getting my knickers in a knot about my own out-breaks of cramp (now in New Improved After-Sex flavour! FUUUUUUUUUCK).

Honestly, so many other things happened this week that I wanted to write about, and all I can think is, my poor, poor Mum.

P.S. – Neither Trouble nor Diva are at home at the moment, as they are visiting their respective fathers, who live in different countries. So I can’t even work off the anxst by getting huffy about them being completely useless in a crisis. Ohhh, I am not a nice person.

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8 responses to “Dramatically, I add to the clan of fellow-sufferers

  • a

    Oh, your poor mother… I hope things untwist themselves and she’s feeling better soon. You’re right – this is a most unfortunate way for her to understand what you go through.

  • Korechronicles

    So sorry about the added anxiety and hope your mum’s twisted bits untwist without intervention. The Universe does have a wicked way of grabbing people’s attention though.

    And, although I don’t know your mother, people who are strongly left brain dominant, may struggle to access their more imaginative right brain. It doesn’t fit their highly logical, tightly structured world view. Experiencing something is the only way that makes it real.

    And also sorry about H’s birthday being under threat.

  • Solnushka

    Your poor poor mother indeed. Hope things continue to improve for her. *hugs* for you too.

  • Womb For Improvement

    Oh god how awful. Your whole family seems to be in the wars. Is it too early to start saying roll on 2012?

  • twangy

    You are a good daughter. Horrible for your poor mother and how worrying for you.

    On H’s birthday? Nooo. Ugh. What are the chances? *Insert exasperated sigh at the universe’s poor sense of timing.*

    Also, on uncharitable thoughts re siblings: they don’t count, I decided a long time ago. If they did, ooh. I’d be in evil thought prison. Actions! Actions are the thing.

    Fingers crossed for your mum.

  • valery valentina

    First of all: electric blue is my favourite colour!!!
    and oh my, a Universe with a Twisted sense of cynicism/humor. My cruel-karma-pixie is screaming ‘See THAT is what happens to people with no empathy’
    *shoving pixie back*
    Sorry you have to deal with both the pre-op and worrying about your mother. Did your heart manage to get back to normal?
    And for the record: you are SO a nice person.
    (and it is useless for sisters to not be there when needed)
    hugs.
    (And Chai with frothy milk if you like)

  • Betty M

    Well I’m glad your appt went fine and your mum is feeling better but that universe has a twisted sense of humour. Not sure his empathy teaching methods Need to be quite so extreme although itis a good thing that your mother now does have more than she did.

  • Hairy Farmer Family

    *directs a stern glance at the dickish Universe*
    This is NOT what we ordered for May’s mother. Pull your finger out, sharpish!

    I do hope she’s feeling better by now, lovey, and I’m sorry to be late to the comment party, as usual. I am thinking Good Thoughts for your folks.

    You speaking of torsion, I do sometimes wonder if the strange location of my left ovary is responsible for the extra dollop of pain I get that side; whether it’s getting lamped and crushed by… and here I lapse into vagueness… abdominal stuff…

    After-sex cramps? That’s… interesting. I don’t get them generally, but I DO get them directly post-orgasm *waves* *Well, HI, everyone!* from about 6 weeks pregnant onwards, centering very specifically in the pregnant side. They disappear about 2-3 days after the heartbeat stops. I have NO IDEA what causes ’em, but I no like ’em on me, and I no like ’em on you.

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