Fate and Perfection

Sat, June 13th


I am back home from Germany for more than a week already.

Yesterday my surgery was three months ago.

Last week I finally saw Suzi, whose surgery is now almost two weeks ago.

And one week ago we got this vague e-mail from Lise that she has "a man down again" ... and we wondered a bit about why she didn't show up at the moon circle, small as it was this month at Peggy's house... just Annabel and Mary and Lydia and me. Patrice had been there briefly for abundant hugging and then took off to another meeting.

Time passing... and strewn in between other life changing experiences are unfolding for my friends. What a most curious accumulation of those in our circle.

On Tuesday night we got this in response from Lise to Lydia's question posted on Monday: "waddaya mean, have a man down again?":

"3 days of hell, schuffling to the Sat. matinee, down for the Gala, schuffling to Aniela's graduation, with appendix erupting inside apparently, tore him away to the Emergency yesterday at 4PM, needed to get him hooked up to an i.v. bag, really going downhill, surgery last night at midnight, erupted appendix encapsulated by a twisted intestine holding all threatening toxins somewhat at bay, in for a week?, so much emotion, won't go there just yet, have to keep moving and figure out my new life for the moment, felt you all there, each and every face there holding me being with me last night as I waited, your strength beauty humour, I was strong
xoxoxo
L"

OMG!!!!

He landed in the very hospital I first went to thinking it was my appendix that was about to rupture, and now his actually did.

Each of our experience in some way eerily similar... yet so different.

When Suzi found out about her cysts in her uterus, it seems it was clear to her from the beginning that it was time to say good bye to this part of her body. I don't recall her questioning this decision. But I will need to ask her again about this.

And look at how she went about to celebrate this departure... giving a good bye party for her uterus two days before surgery was just the culmination. What amazes me is that she was able to keep her ovary. I thought this wasn't possible. But no, it is still inside her body happily producing hormones, which is why she has not been plunged into menopause like I have.

Makes me wonder if my ovaries really had to come out. Dr Morrissey never spoke about the ovaries, he only referred to the tubes. Cysts were grown into the tubes and that's why the ovaries had to go too. At the time that seemed logical to me, in my mind the ovaries were the end point of the whole reproductive shebang and attached to the tubes, so of course they would come out... like an apple hanging on a branch... when you cut the branch the apple goes with it. Not actually true for the ovaries. They have their own attachments in the body and the space between tube and ovary is OPEN. Of course! That's why they call ovulation EISPRUNG in German: "Eggjump". Because it has to jump. I had known that at some point, I had just forgotten.

So why the heck did Dr Morrisey never speak about the ovaries? I think these surgeries are such a routine procedure for these surgeons, they maybe do not deliberate all that much. They don't even remember afterward what they cut out of which body. At least that was my experience with Dr Morrissey. When I saw him for my first post op check up 11 days after the surgery I had wanted to ask him a few more questions about the two cysts. I had seen the two photographs he had taken and promptly e-mailed to Jimmy, but the description as to which one was the dermoid and which one was the fluid one and which one had done the twisting and caused the pain was still unclear to me. So I had wanted to print out copies of the photos and ask him. Of course in the turmoil of the first departure from home, I forgot the photos and so I thought I'd describe to him the two images, easy to do - dramatically different as they were - and get the information that way. This did not work. He did not remember. Like a child being questioned by an adult, and child who is on guard after having done something questionable, it felt like he was on guard with me sitting in that small examination room, as if he was eager to get me out of there as quickly as possible. So when I asked him which was which he said the dermoid was the one that had been on the left, the one that had been football size.
"FOOTBALL size?"
"Yep, football size. It was really good we had taken that one out. It had been hight time."
I didn't dare to say: are you SURE?, or: I really think you are mistaken... that seemed impolite, but I ventured:
"I was under the impression from all the previous imaging reports I got that that one was the smaller one, kind of elongated... no more than 10 cm."
I showed him with my hands. I was sure he had made a mistake and I wanted to give him an elegant way to correct himself. But he didn't.
"No, no, that one had been football size. Really big."
"Really! "
"Yep."
My brain was in upheaval. Was it possible he was right? No. No, I had seen the reports, all of them, I had written down the numbers, I had even made the drawings. Should I press him further, would I have to prove him wrong? God, no I couldn't do that. Maybe he was right??? Could it have grown since the last imaging?? But then the photograph. You could see the fingers holding it, the proportion just wasn't of that size...? There were other questions I had planned to ask him, but all of this was erased from my consciousness.
A quick: "We'll see you again in three weeks, you can go and make an appointment at the counter. ...Here is your report from pathology, you can keep that. ...You're doing great. ...Good bye."
And before I could regroup my braincells, I was out of the room.

The confusion was still with me in the car. I took out the pathology report. After scrambling through the formality of this written piece of paper, there I saw, printed black on white:
2. Received fresh labeled "left tube and left ovary" is a multilobulated cystic ovary with a glistening tan gray outer surface, 7.5 x 5.3 x 3.8 cm. The content is... ... and so on.

Wow, there was my proof. 7.5 cm, that was less than 3 inches.

Couldn't he at least have said: I am sorry, I really don't remember so clearly any longer.. instead of just dumping a completely wrong image on me. Football size! Christ!

Maybe he also had forgotten I had wanted to keep the ovaries in?


This is what I thought of after talking to Suzi about the ovary question. Her surgeon had really listened to her. More like Dr Timmins. They had really been able to plan this event. And she had made the most of it. Nothing happened she had not expected or been prepared for.

Janusz of course has been spared at least these kinds of decisions or doubts. But on the other hand his was a more threatening emergency situation than mine... let alone Suzi's. He was actually lucky he made it through, his kidneys almost failed on him at the same time his appendix burst. You can die from that. Interesting how long it took him to make the decision to finally go to the emergency room. No food going down, projectile vomiting, pain, and more pain going on for days... and within all of that it was right for him to wait. Not only because of his daughters two big celebratory events it seems... then he would have gone after that was done on Sunday... but he stayed with this pain another day and didn't go until Monday afternoon.

Some decisions we make and some are being made for us. At least it looks like that's what happens. But these days I am less sure there is such a distinct separation.

Had Suzi been luckier than me? Or Janusz more unfortunate? No. I don't think of our experiences in that way any longer. What happens is perfect. I really believe that, no, even more so: I know that.