It feels like I’m subject to a two-pronged attack on my intimate person this week, top and tail – today was the turn of my dentist, and on Thursday I have a gynae appointment, oh joy of joys. I’m really not terribly keen on having professionals poking and prodding around my innermost being, regardless of which orifice is being examined in detail, but at least today’s ‘open wide’ instruction was perhaps slightly easier to bear than Thursdays ‘just relax’ suggestion may prove to be.
I have had an IUD (intra-uterine device, more commonly known as a coil) in place for the last five years, and it is now time to have it taken out. No big deal, I tell myself, but after the difficulties experienced in getting the damned thing in, I’m more than a little apprehensive about the assured ease of its subsequent removal. I have an enlarged ‘bulky’ womb due to several fibroids (benign tumours) growing within the uterine wall, and one in particular sits really close to my cervix, kind of blocking the way a bit.
It took three attempts on three separate occasions to get the coil through my cervix and into my womb – strike one was via my GP in our local practice, strike two was via a consultant Gynaecologist in a specialised outpatient clinic, and finally after a general anaesthetic in our local hospital operating theatre, during which they checked out my entire reproductive system for any other anomalies while they were in there, the coil was exactly where it should be.
One of the best things about that particular day – and it’s an image that has stuck with me ever since – was seeing a colour photograph taken from the inside of my womb. It looked a bit like an oddly-shaped shiny purple turnip with the most wonderful red-pink striations, but was so amazing to see – here was where my three beautiful babies had grown, their first ever home for their nine months each of gestation. Not quite sure what kind of fish-eye lens was used on the hysteroscope, but the resulting image was certainly spectacular.
Anyway, five years on and Thursday is ‘D’ Day – D for Dreading it – and already I feel my insides pulling up in protective preparation. I actually have a reasonably high pain threshold, but still… when a professional tells you in their best reassuring-bedside-manner voice ‘Just relax…’ you KNOW something uncomfortable/ painful/ downright unbearable is immediately about to happen, and somehow you automatically tense up in expectation, anticipating the worst. So oh, how nice it will be to have it all over and done with without any drama… please! 🙂