“Are you absolutely certain you’re done?” my physician inquired, raising an eyebrow. “You’re still in your prime.”
As I nervously fidgeted with my fingers, I felt the tension build until my hands formed tight fists before relaxing again. Here I was, sitting in front of a gynecological expert after a two-hour journey, and the initial five minutes of our meeting had been consumed by questions about my dating life. It didn’t take long for the topic to shift from my chronic pelvic and back pain, along with my family history of reproductive cancers, to whether I might still have children in the future.
Yes, I was unequivocally sure. My journey to fertility was fraught with challenges, and my experience with pregnancy was anything but smooth. At 31, my ex-husband and I decided to start a family. More than a decade had passed since my first pregnancy, which had come about far too easily. After over a year of trying to conceive, I sought help from my gynecologist. The tests, ultrasounds, and a laparoscopic procedure ultimately led to a diagnosis of endometriosis—a condition where the uterine lining grows outside the uterus. This common cause of secondary infertility had also been the source of my excruciating pelvic pain, which had been dismissed by various doctors for years.
The pain felt like a relentless shark bite inside me, occurring not just during my periods but also accompanied by fatigue and bloating, often leaving me bedridden for days. Although I knew it was abnormal, I had been conditioned to believe otherwise—an unfortunate side effect of a complicated relationship with suffering. Strong women in my community often endure pain quietly.
At 25, I left a prestigious Chicago hospital with agonizing head and back pain, unable to keep my head upright. Instead of receiving treatment, I was sent home with instructions to take ibuprofen. This led to a later visit to a different hospital, where I discovered that my spinal fluid was leaking and required immediate attention. It was a close call, but years of being dismissed by doctors taught me that complaining was futile.
Now, after two surgeries to remove the endometriosis, I found myself once again in front of a specialist. I was suffering from severe left-sided pain caused by my left ovary being stuck to my pelvic wall. After my first surgery, the problematic ovary had remained intact. My OB-GYN had wanted to preserve it for potential future pregnancies, but I now understood that many women conceive with only one ovary. This time, I was adamant: I wanted my sanity back. I wanted the pain to disappear and my troubled reproductive system removed entirely. I wanted to sleep through the night, play with my toddler without agony, and not dread each cycle phase.
“I’m certain,” I stated firmly. “Remove the fallopian tube, uterus, ovary, and anything else that’s damaged.” My ultrasound images were prominently displayed behind us, revealing a fallopian tube that should not even be visible. “Normally, a healthy fallopian tube isn’t discernible on ultrasound,” the doctor had mentioned just moments before our conversation veered toward fertility. In reality, I could feel my abnormal fallopian tube, which only added to my frustration.
The doctor then hurriedly discussed conservative treatment options, including long-term medication with the possibility of nightly sweats and hot flashes. I drove home feeling bewildered, yet again having let a physician merely place a Band-Aid over my suffering. This time, I wasn’t going to be dismissed. I wanted answers, and I put my pain into words as I cried. When I reached out, the nurse called back to schedule a CT scan. The results revealed suspicious thickening of my uterine lining and fluid in my pelvic cavity, adding to the list of concerning findings. Finally, we could proceed with surgery to remove my uterus, tubes, and ovary.
In many cases, it seems that physicians prioritize women’s fertility over their reproductive pain. At least I could find some solace in knowing that my life was valued more than the potential for future children.
For a deeper exploration of fertility issues, check out this excellent resource on fertility treatment. You may also find useful supplements at Make a Mom that can enhance your fertility journey.
In summary, my experience navigating chronic pain and fertility challenges has been complicated but enlightening. It’s crucial for women to advocate for their health and not allow pain to be dismissed as a normal part of life.
Keyphrase: Women’s fertility and reproductive pain
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