When I last left off I was out of surgery and ready to get on with life. The past two years have been a real pain in the ass because of these fibroids. I’ve gained thirty pounds that I couldn’t lose because of the medication I was on, even with forcing myself to work out for over an hour a day with no energy. Basically, fibroids mimic a bad pregnancy. You’re tired all the time and for example, when I first went into the doctor, my uterus was the size of someone that was five months pregnant. How fun is that? So not only does it take a toll on your body, it’s very hard to grasp mentally too because you’re not doing it to yourself. You have no control over what your body is doing. And unlike a pregnancy, I didn’t get to bring a baby home. Instead, I was told I couldn’t have children if I chose certain ways to remove the tumors. I was very depressed and cried all the time. I couldn’t even bring myself to undress in front of my husband anymore. Not because he wasn’t attracted to me. I’m lucky enough to be married to someone that told me that I was beautiful everyday. I couldn’t because I just didn’t feel like me. I didn’t feel sexy and I didn’t feel beautiful. Overweight, sad, in pain all of the time and now not able to give my husband another child. The only thing that got me through was that I would tell myself it wasn’t my son who was sick. He was healthy. I could be fixed. Things could have been way worse. I felt like an asshole for even complaining because other people have to go through things that sometimes they can’t get through. So I didn’t complain and would cry in the bathroom by myself so I at least didn’t feel ashamed that I was so upset over something that I could eventually overcome.

Coming out of that surgery was like seeing a dim sunrise. On one hand I was grateful that it was all over with. On the other, I had chosen one of the routes where children weren’t an option after. It was a double edge sword. I was ready for things to go back to normal and to start feeling like myself again. I was excited to exercise. I was excited to not be in pain so that I could play with my son without him asking if I was ok. I was excited to not be on pain meds and pills everyday. I was excited to get naked with my husband. I was excited to not fall asleep every time I sat down because I was so exhausted and I was excited to be able to go out and have fun with my friends again. I had finally fixed the problem that had followed me around for so long. I was hopeful and grateful that it was done.

When I got home there was the obvious healing time. I was still on pain meds for that but it seemed to be going well. The only thing I had to really keep my eye on was symptoms of infection which can lead to some pretty serious complications. So far so good. The only thing that really bothered me sometimes was where they put the stent in my artery. It would sometimes have a nasty throb for hours at a time, but other than that I seemed to be good. My appetite was going back to normal and I wasn’t a ravenous beast anymore and I seemed to be getting more energy back every day. Then shit started to roll downhill fast.

Ok, this is where things start to get gross. So if you’re squeamish or have a penis and don’t want to delve into lady issues….take this as your warning to turn away. Seriously. About the second month after surgery stuff started happening. I was cramping pretty badly every day. Now I’ve had super bad cramps since I was fourteen years old, so I just shrugged it off. Honestly I just assumed it was my body getting back on track. My doctor had told me that for the next year anything would go with my body. There was no real timeline to go by. So I just figured it was part of the healing process. Finally I had to call my nurse and ask what she thought was happening. She explained that because my uterus was so big and filled with two giant tumors, that as the fibroids shrank, my uterus would have to shrink too. So that could very well have been my discomfort. Fair enough I thought and carried on for another two weeks like that. On the third week my cramps got stronger and I had to call her again because I was so frightened of infection. I couldn’t move the pain was so bad. I didn’t have a fever or any other signs of infection so again, I just assumed it was more shrinking contractions after she talked me off the ledge because i honestly thought I was dying. Day two came and the cramps were still there. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t get off of the couch and I prayed for it to be over soon. Maybe it was my body getting used to a period again. Maybe it actually was an infection. Panic was starting to set in. On the third day I woke up to no cramps. Praise Jesus hallelujah! I figured I should take that time to go and clean upstairs and catch up on all of the laundry I couldn’t get done because of the pain. At about ten o’clock at night they came back stronger than they were before. We just figured maybe I had pushed myself too hard and overdid it. I couldn’t put my legs up and I couldn’t put my legs down. I crawled to the bathroom to try to have a hot bath to help. It didn’t. Finally after about four hours they finally started to dissipate so I finally got to get a bit of sleep. The next day they were even worse. It was labor. I was in labor. I’ve had a baby before thank you and I know what labor feels like and this was it. I was in so much pain I had to constantly keep my legs moving. I caught myself lamaze breathing. I prayed for it to be over for about six hours. Cash was asleep and I didn’t want to wake him to go to the hospital and honestly, I don’t think I could have gotten out to the truck to even get there. I waited to get through it. I woke up the next morning to no cramps again but was so afraid of the pain creeping back up that I was continuously taking two Motrin every four hours just in case. That’s all I had to take and they seemed to do nothing. At one o’clock in the morning they started so bad again that Derek walked in to find me bawling and rocking back and forth. I couldn’t do it again. This was now labor for five days with two Motrin every four hours. I conceded. The next day I went to the doctor.

When the doctor walked in to talk to me I burst into tears. I told her what was happening and she almost fell off of her chair when I told her what I was taking to help manage the pain. She couldn’t believe that I had held out for that long. I explained to her that I had recently had an embolization and that my fibroids would now be dead. When I said that I felt like I was in labor I meant it. I know that’s what it felt like, and I was scared that my body was pushing the fibroids out. I had explained that there is literally no literature about that happening. Only the statistic of that it happens to about five percent of embolization patients. She gave me an internal and said there was nothing there and my heart sank. What the hell was happening to me? I was scared. I couldn’t take anymore pain. She prescribed me three different pain meds and told me if it persisted to come back. At least I had actual help for the pain now.

The pain came back every day and night for another week after that. The only difference was that I could manage it because I had pain medicine to get me through. My stomach hurt so bad that it would actually swell. I couldn’t even put pants on. I was locked in my house in excruciating pain and literally couldn’t leave. I just had to make it a little bit longer. I had my follow up appointment with the specialist in Winnipeg the following week so I just had to tough it out until then. In the meantime, I popped a bunch of pills, threw on some work out pants and ran to Winnipeg to pick up our new puppy and to go to our friends art show. Yes, I was uncomfortable, but it was the only silver lining I had to a pretty shit month so far and I wasn’t willing to miss it. I made it to the art show, pain meds in tow, and after about an hour of visiting had to run to the bathroom for a quick pee. Big mistake. When I was done, I felt some pain and looked down. I had passed something. It was about four toonies wide and looked like smooth muscle. Great. I’m officially the grossest person in the world. Take me into public and I’m losing stuff out of my uterus all willy nilly. I pulled my pants up and went and whispered to my husband what had happened. He was in shock, as was I. We hit the road to grab this puppy and get the hell home. Neither of us knew what was happening but we did know that it wasn’t good. After a long and painful ride home we got back to the house and I had to run to the bathroom again. There was something there again. This time it wasn’t coming out on its own (seriously guys, I’m trying to make this the least amount of disgusting that I can). So after a little persuasion I passed it. A full fibroid about the size of my clenched fist. Yes it was painful but at least it made sense! Finally an answer to the pain. I took pictures to show my doctor and hopped in the shower to scrub all of my skin off.

When I arrived for my specialist appointment I showed him the photo and he asked me to email it to him. Turns out my fibroids were on the outside of my uterus. So that’s why I was in so much pain. My uterus actually contracted them into my uterus and then contracted them out. Do you know the odds of that happening? Two percent. So don’t ever stand next to my ass in a lightning storm. The odds are against you. My specialist had never seen it in his career. He looked at me and said “Do you know why you felt like you were in labor? Because you were. You were actually in worse than labor because your fibroids didn’t start in the uterus. You were in labor for five days straight on nothing but Motrin every four hours”. Then he shook my hand and said “Now you know what you’re made of”. Well holy shit. I’m sure there was an easier way to see what I was made of. Cripes. He also told me that he was pretty sure I had seen the end. That was it. It was most likely over. I guess I just had to go out with a bang.

Now the reason why I’m telling you this is because I didn’t know what was happening. Like I said, I couldn’t find any information on this occurance. Turns out it’s one of those things that is rare and when it happens no one talks about it. So I’m telling you because if you ever have to go through what I went through, I want you to be more prepared than I was. The odds of passing a regular fibroid in your uterus is only five percent. What I went through is only two percent. If someone doesn’t talk about it it’s going to be the Bigfoot of the medical community. I also wanted to tell you just in case you’re ever leafing through a medical journal and there’s an iPhone photo of a fibroid with a photo of me beside it (hopefully eating a hot dog or something because that would be my luck). God knows what’s going to happen to the fibroid picture I emailed my doctor.

So I’m sorry for the gross post. Truly. It was very hard to write that. Life is really full of ups and downs. One minute you’re being told you can’t have kids and are going for surgery, the next you’re in labor for five days giving birth to fibroids. Looks like Alanis Morisette is going to have to throw an extra verse into her song Ironic just for me. Here I am though. I made it through. Recovering, grateful and ready to see what a fibroid less future holds.

xo Stephanie