Thursday was endometrial biopsy day at Dr Expensive’s.
Because I had read this blog post, provided by Stirrup Queens, and more importantly all the comments (oh my God oh my God the HORROR. The AGONIES. The TENACULUM), I was in a heightened state of alert terror about the whole thing. I booked the remainder of the afternoon off work. I begged H to come with me. I took two ibuprofen 30 minutes before hand. I had co-codamol in my bag, just in case. I should’ve had some sanitary towels in my bag, but I forgot them, leading to me calling H as we both powered through the city from our respective work-places, begging him, if he passed a chemist first, to pop in and get some. Which he did, and he did.
Dr Expensive was remarkably casual about the whole thing. We left H sitting by the desk and retreated behind a screen, where I was treated to a gynae couch that doubled as a hydraulic lift. Dr Expensive declined to sit down and instead simply had me hoisted 5 feet in the air, and to H’s mild astonishment my head appeared slowly above the modesty screen. So I waved at him.
The speculum was uncomfortable, as when opened they seem to dig right into Cute Ute’s embonpoint (the adenomyosis, you know). The insertion of the Pipelle curette (a thin plastic tube, mostly, with an opening at the tip to scrape with, and a tiny piston inside it to suck with) was pinchy, but not horrid. The scraping sensation made me feel a sudden sympathy for the lemon I savaged with a zester the other week, but it lasted less than a minute, and I didn’t even need to say ‘ouch’.
Dr Expensive did pause, and ask me if I had fibroids – ‘No, adenomyosis’, I said – and muttered something about a long internal… something? orifice? (he does have a strong accent). I assume, from this, and given that the adenomyosis/adenomyoma can be clearly felt at the top of the front wall of my vagina (leaning on my bladder, the bitch), that it is affecting the upper part of the cervix as well as the body of the uterus. Is this a problem, or an anatomical quirk? I didn’t ask. A man had quite a lot of plastic and sharp implements where the sun does not shine, and I was a tad preoccupied.
And then Dr Expensive removed his implements and lowered me back down to behind the screen.
(No, no tenaculum. Admittedly I have a well-bred cervix who always turns up front-and-centre for appointments. However, your gynaecologist should really not use a tenaculum on you until and unless all other attempts have failed and/or you keep your cervix somewhere near your left ear. If they bring it out first go, for the love of God, kick it out of their hand and fire them, preferably from a cannon).
And then, when I’d replaced my knickers, Dr Expensive handed me my file and a small pot full of bloodstained formaline solution and, err, a few floating, err, shreds, and sent us off to sort out the paperwork. I hadn’t expected the uterine lining to look so like (sorry about this) meat. I mean, in a few days, the rest of it is going to dissolve, isn’t it? How does it do that?
I was bleeding a little, as expected, so I nipped to the loo and used one of the pads H had got me. The secretarial lady asked me if I felt OK, and I had to say, to my surprise, that I did. I was a little sore, as if bruised, but nothing distressing.
And then I let them do something unkind to my credit card, took my pot and paperwork to the lab down the street, and got H to buy me a cup of tea. And, frankly, the horridness of the tea was the worst part of the experience. But we still went home to watch Paralympics. Well, I did. H worked from home. Puritan.
Friday, I took another two ibuprofen in the morning, as I felt a little sore still, and I was still bleeding a little (heavier than spotting, but only just). Otherwise, I was fine. And today I am spotting in a very faint and watery manner.
So not even mostly dead. Despite suction.
I have no idea if the discovery of elevated NK cells in my lining would change my treatment options. I assume we’re also looking for hyperplasia, atypia, atrophy, necrosis or generally pants blood supply. I don’t know what we’d do about any of those at all. *flails*