Twisted Cyst 

Twisted Cyst 

A few years ago, it was discovered that I had an ovarian cyst. It wasn’t causing me any pain and everyone said that it wasn’t affecting my fertility or causing my miscarriages, so they left it alone. 

Fast forward about a year and after every other test came back negative, the doctors decided to remove it as a precaution. Tick something else off the list. I received an appointment over a year ago but had to cancel as I was pregnant. I called back after my loss to reschedule but heard nothing. 

Apparently they measured it again at my MRI. The cyst had grown, but I never knew. I was never told. I still never got an appointment. 

Around a week ago I had severe pain in my stomach. The level of pain went from about a 3 out of 10 to about a 7.. it was bearable, but it was never gone. 

I somehow managed to pop some painkillers and sleep it off until I woke the next morning doubled over in agony. I rushed to A&E but the pain had subsided by the time I got there, so they took my BP and bloods and sent me home. 

Next day – same thing. The pain came back. It was worse. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t get dressed, I couldn’t do anything. I was in tears. No-one was home so I called Nikki at work and he told me to call an ambulance and get back to A&E and he would meet me there. I waited in agony on my couch for the ambulance to arrive. 

After the ambulance crew told the doctors that morphine wasn’t even touching my pain, they agreed to scan me. It was discovered my cyst had nearly doubled and had twisted around my fallopian tube causing it to become swollen and of course – causing me to be bloody agony! 

The doctor cooly explained that I would need inmediate surgery and probably need to have my ovary removed. I immediately burst into tears. He tried to reassure me but it was useless. I couldnt think logically or calmy. I was frightened and sore and upset. All I could think was “Why was this happening?! Why me?” 

I woke up after my surgery and was told that a different surgeon performed the operation and he saved my tube and only removed the tiniest part of my ovary. Relief. 

I’m grateful it got dealt with, but I have this feeling in the pit of my stomach that this might have been causing my losses. I worry it’s caused lasting damage. I really need to catch a break! 

 

 

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M.R.I

M.R.I

My mum lost her hearing in one of her ears a few years ago and the doctors never knew what caused it. She was booked in for an M.R.I scan, but ended up not going through with it saying she felt too frightened and claustrophobic. I told her she was being ridiculous, and that if it was going to help well, she should just bloody do it! 

Mere hours after my own M.R.I, I phoned to apologise to her. I understood exactly what she meant. 

The nurses told me to remove all my jewellery, piercings and hair pins. Nothing metal left in my body, and seeing as I have no plates or bionic limbs, that should’ve been pretty simple right? Not quite. I have an intimate piercing that is quite literally impossible to remove on my own. I sheepishly explained this and was told that I may need to reschedule as the piercings can “explode” and rip out whatever part of the body it’s attached to. (yeah, she actually said “rip”). Then another nurse came, handed me a magnet and told me to hold it against my piercing to see if it was magnetised. It wasn’t, so she said I would be safe to go in and there would be nothing to worry about. Sorted then! Then why were exploding vaginas all I could think about? 

I put on my gown and answered some basic health questions, then was warned that the IV buscopan that I was about to receive might make my vision blurred so not to panic about blindness or anything, and that on rare occasions,  some tattoos can heat excessively during an MRI, and if this happens I should push the buzzer and they’ll take me out (I have about 27 tattoos so this wasn’t particularly pleasant news). So now all I can think about it is losing my sight, having exploding genitals and burning from the inside out. Great. What a morning. 

I lay on the bed and 2 boards were placed on top of me and fastened to the bed so that my arms were trapped by my side, rendering me unable to move. So when my vaginas flying around in tiny pieces, I won’t be able to throw my hands out and grab anything to salvage! 

I was told I’d be lying under the machine for an hour. An HOUR! I thought this would take a few minutes! As I started to be moved in, I immediately knew what my mum meant – it was horrendous. I felt totally trapped and couldn’t see anything around me apart from white, clinical plastic. They gave me earphones, but it was impossible to concentrate on the awful music over the hum and beeps and murmurs of the machine. 

About 30mins in, I needed to sneeze. Shit. I’m not supposed to move in here right? It came and went twice, until I couldn’t stop it anymore. Damn, not one but, two sneezes! I tried in vain to stifle them, which only resulted in my eyes watering. I could feel a small steady stream of tears rolling down my face. I couldn’t life my arm to wipe it. Uh-oh, now my nose was running. Snotters slowly dripped down my face. Oh my God, it’s going in my mouth, it’s going in my mouth! I turned my head ever so slightly to try veer the snotters off course. Result! They bypassed my mouth and continued rolling down my chin and on to my neck. Crap, there goes my eyes again. More tears were coming, followed by even more snotters. My face was a soggy mess and I couldn’t do anything about it. 

Finally, the murmurs stopped and I started to feel myself move backwards. The nurses appeared and unstrapped the boards. I could finally lift my hands and I immediately wiped my wet, snotter soaked face. It was over.  

Or was it? Was that actually the easy part?