Timing

So, I went to the gynecologist this morning and her recommendation is surgery, and since I still want to try and have children, it will need to be an open abdominal surgery instead of a hysterectomy. Since surgery is needed, whether here or in NC, the question becomes more about timing.

The first available surgery date they have is Oct. 4. Minimum 4–6 week recovery time (though I would be cleared for driving at 4 weeks). That would put us driving cross-country and listing the condo for sale in early November. Not too bad. That's really only a 2–3 week delay to what we were planning anyhow.

But then the doctor started talking about follow-up—she had the strong opinion that the doctor ordering or performing the surgery should also be the doctor following up on the surgery and determining whether or not it was successful.

I hadn't really thought of that. My mind has been on action—Cut. Sew. Go! Not on ongoing maintenance.

Crap I feel old today. And I feel totally betrayed by my body.

Never mind the fact that I've completely mentally glossed over recuperation and what the reality of that is. It's not just a few days off from work. It's 2 weeks of doing absolutely nothing before I'll even want to walk again. And 4–6 weeks total of being mostly immobile and relying on Scoob's prowess in the kitchen.

4–6 weeks of earbuds jammed into my ears to block/drown out the neighborhood cacophony with no means for escape.

4–6 weeks of reading the same 2 books over and over because all the others are packed away in the garage. (And let's face it, those steamy scenes start to lose their potency after a few reads.)

4–6 weeks of psychologically pacing the floor while we're miserable in CA when we could be settling in in NC.

All inconveniences, to be sure, but given that this is not an emergency procedure I think it's worth waiting until after the move so that the doctor following up on me has been involved from the pre-surgery stage and so that I can recuperate in a more permanent and calm environment. I'll still need to rely on Scoob in the kitchen, but at least I'll be able to relax in my own bed instead of worrying about how soon we need to get it packed on a truck. And I won't be tempted to push myself to do too much too quickly. Well, I'll still be tempted; I'll just have fewer opportunities.

So, from now until then, my doctor and I will be working on pain management. Well, that and one more test. My pap came back abnormal (This is a surprise? Hello, there's a 5.7 cm growth on my uterus.), so now I need a to have a biopsy. My sister summed it up best—"that just sounds like lame sauce with a side of what-the-f*ck." (Sorry grandma.) I love my sis. Though it is unfortunate because this is now my favorite phrase and it's not one you can just whip out at the office.

And, speaking of the office, tomorrow is the big day. We're 4 weeks from our move and I finally get come clean with my boss and tell him we're moving. I doubt he'll be able to tell me tomorrow whether or not I can keep my job. He'll have to kick it up to his boss, who'll probably have to kick it up to corporate. I certainly wasn't anticipating all this other stuff to be happening at the same time. But it is. And we'll deal with it.

If I'm not able to keep my job (and my health insurance)? Well, we'll deal with that, too, if it happens. I can always go on COBRA, or Scoob and I can go find the nearest judge and make our 9-plus–year relationship official in the eyes of the state so I can get coverage through his health plan. Romantic, no?

(I'm sure this is precisely what anti-gay marriage campaigns are trying to preserve when they're talking about the sanctity of marriage. People get married for all sorts of reasons; it's the bonds between people, married or not, that are sacred.)