Never one to wait, I cancelled my remaining two cervical cauterizations and went straight to uterine biopsy. The bleeding had become too much and too often so I wanted to rule out anything terrible, cause that’s just how I roll.
There’s just no way around it: biopsies hurt! Although it’d been 13 years since my last lady-parts biopsy (colposcopy), I still vividly remembered the searing pain of cells being scraaaaaaped away. *shudder* However, since my uterus has seen lots of action since 2004—what with surgeries, hysteroscopies, HSGs, pregnancies and the like—I hoped that, like a well-exercised muscle, it’d toughened itself up and the pain would be minimized.
So, onward I soldiered to my latest biopsy…. with the benefit of hindsight and armed with ‘narc painkillers. I like to think that maybe I’m getting smarter (just a little).
Doctors have a funny way of measuring time: Dr. Maryland completely lied when she said it’d last “ten seconds.” Don’t believe the hype, people! Biopsies take a few minutes—REAL minutes, not doctor minutes.
There was pain. There was blood. There was tensing of my leg muscles as I gripped the edge of the exam table throughout the entire interminable procedure.
I was literally thanking God when it was over. Still am.
And the results are in.
*drum roll please*
I met with Dr. Maryland in person for my results. The appointment was brief:
- Biopsy results were normal (anticlimactic, I know).
- Intermenstrual bleeding is coming from my cervix, not my uterus.
- While the bleeding is abnormal, there’s nothing that Dr. Maryland or any doctor I’ve met with can (or will) do about it. The only way to fully stop the bleeding is with hormones—i.e. birth control.
- Dr. Maryland has no solutions for me and suggested I return to my RE and ART (even though I’ve told her umpteen times that ART isn’t something we want to pursue right now).
- Then she “wished me luck” and said to call her when I get a positive pregnancy test.
I felt utterly dismissed. It was the closest someone’s ever come to saying, “I can’t help you. Now get out of here” without actually saying the words themselves.
One year later, the medical chapter of my unexplained bleeding ends, although the bleeding itself does not end. I still have this crazy notion that there’s a doctor out there who can help me, but whoever she or is he, it eludes me.
Am I just chasing rainbows? Do I really “just have to live with it?” Is this my body’s new normal? After how much I had to fight just to get a simple biopsy performed, I feel pretty defeated. Normal results are so reassuring; lack of a solution, not so much.
When doors keep shutting like this, I believe it’s God trying to tell me something. Now onward to figure out what that something is. My hope in medicine is dashed; but thank God medicine isn’t the final answer. That’s the only thing I know for sure amid all this uncertainty.