Chapter 5 #5
“You’ll do great,” he says. He has a mask on so I can’t see the smile on his face, but I can see it in his eyes. “Count backward from ten for me.”
“If I don't, will I get to stay awake?” I ask.
“No, Linda is still going to put you under,” he laughs, nodding to the anesthesiologist.
“Okay,” I say with a shaky sigh. A mask is placed over my nose and mouth as she pushes the plunger that is attached to the IV in my arm. “10… 9… 8… 7… 6…”
I slip away into my dreams. My dreams are generally nice memories of my mother and the good times we had before she got sick.
By the time she found out she had cancer, it had taken over her abdomen entirely.
There was nothing they could do because it was progressing too fast. I remember the day Mom and Dad sat us down and told us.
I was so stunned. I didn’t want to believe that I was losing my mom to something that could have been prevented.
I was angry at her for not having symptoms; for not knowing she was dying.
I was downright hateful because I was hurting, but she never got mad at me.
She never stopped smiling or telling us how much she loved us.
No matter how much pain she was in, she always made a point to put us first. She did the same thing with Dad.
He tried to make her rest and just let him take care of her, but she didn’t want to go out that way.
She didn’t want to be a burden. That’s when I stopped letting people take care of me.
I figured if my mom could do it with terminal cancer, then I could do it healthy.
I had no reason to complain because I was alive, and she was dead.
When Amy found out, it had taken over her uterus.
She went from being healthy to being in menopause in less than a year.
No one could explain why or how it got so bad so fast, but they called her lucky.
She was lucky because she would never have biological children.
She was lucky that she had to go through menopause before she even turned thirty.
Now everyone is watching and waiting for me to be the next to turn up with cancer.
They think that I don’t hear them gossip at family gatherings and wonder if this is the year I’ll tell everyone that I’m sick.
Part of me wants to just convince Dominic to just do a hysterectomy, but I know I’d regret it.
I want children so badly. The only problem is, I can’t get out of my own way long enough to let anyone have an interest in me.
I don’t want to watch the man of my dreams suffer through losing me and not be able to do anything about it.
I don’t want them to have to help me plan my funeral like Mom did.
I know that I’m just making myself miserable by not letting people get close to me, but I can’t bear the thought of being the source of someone’s pain.
I know that my mother did not want to be the source of my pain, but she was.
I watched my father turn into a man that I don’t recognize.
He used to smile all the time. He would joke and laugh with us.
Now, he is a shell of a person waiting for death to take over.
He is miserable because he lost the love of his life.
How can I get into a relationship with someone knowing that I am very well able to do that to someone?
I slowly open my eyes, and everything is blurry.
I blink away the haze and things start coming into focus.
As my vision clears up my body realizes it’s in pain.
I groan and try to shift to be more comfortable.
I’m on a hospital bed and it’s bright as fuck in here.
Faces turn to me, and it takes me a second to realize who it is.
“Hey,” Harper says softly. I make a sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a whine.
“Are you in pain?” Dominic asks and I nod. “You can give her 2 milligrams. I just wanted her to be awake first.” The nurse beside him nods and a few seconds later relief sweeps over me, and I relax.
“I didn’t die,” I mumble.
“You didn’t,” he smiles. “Let’s get you moved so you can get dressed and I’ll come talk to you. Okay?”
“Is it bad?” I ask.
“Uh. It’s not good, but it’s not about the biopsy,” he says, and I nod.
Considering how much pain I’ve been in over the years I assumed that the endometriosis was going to be bad.
Everything I looked up pointed me toward the realization that he wasn’t gonna have very good things to say after the surgery.
“Harper, if you need any help with her a nurse can come help. I need to go finish up some notes right quick and I’ll come talk to you all. ”
“Okay. Thanks, Dominic,” she says kindly.
I am moved into a room. I doze in and out of sleep for a little until she comes back with a soda and crackers before taking my IV out.
When she leaves, Harper helps me get up and get dressed.
The incisions are larger than I expected but I suspect that has to do with whatever he needs to tell me.
I sit on the bed and eat my crackers. By the time I get done with my soda, Dominic is walking into the room. He is dressed differently. He’s in jeans and a polo shirt now. “You changed,” I say.
“I did. You were the only surgery I had today and I’m not on call,” he says.
“What time is it?” I ask.
“It’s eight,” Harper tells me.
“Eight? I had surgery at one,” I say.
“Yeah, so you definitely have endometriosis. It’s likely the worst that I or the other surgeon I had to have come in to help has seen,” he explains.
“Okay, so what does that mean? How bad is bad?”
“You had adhesions throughout your abdominal cavity. I was able to clear up the majority of it. The issue was you had a cyst on your right ovary roughly the size of a grapefruit. How it hadn’t ruptured yet, I’m not sure.”
“Had, meaning it’s gone?” I ask.
“Yes. In the process though it became apparent that it wasn’t going to be able to be removed unless I took the ovary.
That is a big decision to make so I did come to talk to Harper and she signed off on me removing the cyst and your right ovary,” he explains.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I know she made the right decision, but it doesn’t make it hurt less.
It doesn’t change the fact that it just lessened my chances of being able to get pregnant.
“Luna,” Harper says as she moves to sit next to me. She takes my hand and squeezes, making a tear slide down my cheek.
“I know, Har. I know. I’m not upset at you,” I say.
“It does affect fertility, but by no means does that mean you won’t be able to get pregnant one day. If anything, this surgery just increased your chances, even with losing the ovary. The adhesions were bad and I am certain that it would have affected fertility significantly,” he explains further.
“Otherwise, everything went okay?” I ask, wiping my eyes.
“Yeah,” he says. “You did great. You lost very little blood, and your vitals were perfect the entire time.”
“So, what about the pain?” I ask. “Will it be better?”
“Much,” he says. “We’ll need to keep an eye on you to see if it comes back. I think switching your birth control would be wise.”
“When will I know about the biopsy?” I ask.
“I should get the results in a week or two.”
“Great, so what now?” I ask.
“Now… he’s going to take you home because I have a long drive back. Your dad has been blowing my phone up all day. I’ll give him the full update and tell him to give you some time to rest,” Harper says.
“I just need food and I won’t complain,” I say.
“We can stop and get something on the way,” Dominic says, smiling.
By the time we get home, I am in an incredible amount of pain. We ended up stuck in traffic, but luckily, we already had our food so we just ate in the car.
Dominic comes around to my door and offers me his hand. “I’d almost rather the other pain,” I groan as he helps me stand up.
“It’ll get better,” he says as he wraps his arm around my waist.
Dominic helps me into the building, and I lean against the wall as we ride the elevator up. Once we get out and get to my door I am almost in tears.
“Get changed and lie down. I’ll get your pain medicine,” he says. I nod and make my way to my room.
I make the mistake of sitting down and lying back, and now I can’t sit back up. I give up trying to sit up and decide I’m just going to stay like this.
“You skipped a step,” Dominic says when he comes into my room.
“I’m stuck,” I sigh. “I laid back and now it hurts too badly to get up.”
Dominic takes my hands and pulls me up before handing me my medicine. “Thank you,” I say, setting the bottle of water down on my side table.
“You’re welcome,” he says. “Do you need help changing?”
“I would say I don’t, but I might actually fall on the floor if I try,” I say.
“I think we are past the point of if changing should be weird,” he says as he helps me stand.
“That’s a fair point,” I say.
“What would you like to wear?” he asks.
“Fuck. I don’t know. Surprise me,” I sigh.
“This feels like a setup,” he laughs as he goes to my dresser. Dominic pulls out an oversized shirt and underwear before coming back over to me. I can’t help but smile at him. “What?”
“Nothing. Just losing my mind is all,” I say.
“I’d love to know what you mean but it feels like cheating to ask you when you’ve just had surgery,” he laughs.
“It’s just odd for me to let anyone get close to me,” I say.
“You don’t date, is what you are saying?” he asks as he helps me get my shirt off.
“Ow,” I wince. “No. I don’t want to be the reason someone is sad one day.”
“Why would you be the reason someone is sad?”
“Because eventually the cancer will get me just like it got them. I’ll either die or they’ll think I’m useless because I’m not able to give them kids. I’m already halfway there already.”