One of the topics readers most frequently contact me about is the time I had to have emergency surgery to remove my right ovary.
In case you aren’t familiar with the story, I had had abdominal pain throughout most of my twenties. Doctors had told me it was nothing to worry about– just digestive issues.
Well, in February 2013– just a few days before my 28th birthday– the pain in my right side, and nausea, became so severe that I went to the emergency room.
There, an ultrasound revealed that I was suffering from ovarian torsion— something had caused my right ovary to rotate, with the Fallopian tube wrapped around it in such a way that its blood supply was being cut off.
The doctors rushed me in to surgery in an attempt to reverse this process and restore blood flow, but it was too late. The ovary had to be removed.
For months, after this– I’d say a year, really– I suffered from both physical and emotional fall out. And actually, a lot of what I experienced me is what my readers say they also go through.
I decided it’s high time I give everyone an update on this situation, and I’m here to tell you that, three years later, everything is alright.
I was in pretty significant pain for about two weeks following my surgery. I really relied on narcotic painkillers. They masked the pain so well that I’d think I was better and didn’t need them anymore. Then my last dose would wear off and I’d feel like my world was coming to an end. Other people (mainly my parents) would have to remind me that I was due for another Percoset, and then I’d come back into my rational mind again. (By the way, I am a FIRM believer in the usefulness of opioid medications. This entire ordeal would have been much more emotionally scarring if I’d had to bear the brunt of this mind-warping pain without them) .
After about two weeks I was okay… until my next period.
This is pretty graphic, but I figure if you’re here, you’re interested. I went back to my OB doc in agony again, like I’d just had the surgery yesterday. He explained that basically, now that I was menstruating, blood was coming out of the side my uterus and leaking into my abdomen, because now I had a gap where the Fallopian tube used to be. Basically, it was a totally benign phenomenon– my body would just reabsorb it– it was just causing pain because there was fluid where fluid wasn’t supposed to be.
At the time, my doctor told me it would be like this every time I got my period, and suggested I take the birth control pill to lighten my periods and ease the pain. I did this for a few months, but eventually as time wore on, things stopped being painful. Now I believe that my body just hadn’t fully healed from the surgery. It’s also possible, as one nurse practitioner suggested, that my nervous system had become sensitized to pain in that area (gee, that sounds familiar!).
What I do know, for sure, is that three years later, I am having normal periods without agonizing pain. I sometimes do notice that during my period, I’m a little sore on the right side, but it’s something I am pretty much able to ignore.
Mood/Emotions/How Do I Feel?
I feel totally and completely normal. What all of the doctors told me is true– when you lose one ovary, the other one completely takes over. You don’t really need two. (In fact, there’s a reason why we have two).
My left ovary is a magical little powerhouse and it has taken over completely, doing everything I need it to do. I feel the same.
It took me a really, really long time to work through some of the emotions that came from this.
I am still mad at the doctors who so easily brushed my concerns aside. To be fair, they were gastroenterologists, not ob-gyns. But still. One of them literally even wrote a book on digestive disorders in women. (I don’t hate her enough to name her here– in fact, she is still my doctor because I think she’s a good gastroenterologist).
But still, on this, she did brush me aside and tell me it was irritable bowel syndrome. Seeing that I am a woman of child-bearing age, I wish she had thought to tell me to consult an OB-GYN.
I also still think that the gluten-free craze is just a fad, and that it has power to do just as much harm as it does good. (This doctor’s advice to me, the last time I saw her before this happened, was to try switching to a gluten-free diet to see if I felt better).
But I’m no longer mad at myself. I did the best I could with the information I had at the time.
I try not to judge myself for the way I handle things. There have been times I’ve under-reacted, and there have been times I’ve overreacted. Nobody is perfect. We do what we can. Pragmatism is my goal.
Fear of it happening again
And this. This is really the number one thing women write to me about– the fear that the same thing will happen to your good ovary.
I can’t promise you that nothing will, but I can tell you that so far, nothing has happened to mine. It is just fine.
They told me what happened to me was about as rare as getting hit by a bus, or being struck by lightning. The odds are like one in a million. The odds of it happening again? Almost minuscule.
Still, there have been a number of times that I’ve freaked out and rushed into the doctor’s office for an emergency same-day ultrasound. (When you’ve already been that one in a million, it doesn’t really make you feel like taking chances). But my ovary has never been twisted.
I’ll tell you the truth, in the past three years, I think I’ve had six of these. I know that’s a lot. But I know that it won’t seem like a lot to any of the women who’ve emailed me.
The majority of the times, the doctors were able to decipher what had happened to cause me pain. That I had ovulated, or was about to ovulate (normal ovulation causes the formation of a little cyst, which then releases the egg).
Some of these cysts, they said, wouldn’t be enough to cause pain in every woman, but for whatever reason, in me– probably now that I’m hyper-focused to that area– I notice it.
And there were a few times I was really scared, when it hurt a lot. But I learned that, in some women, normal ovulation can be really painful– even more painful than what I was reporting. So I would just have to trust in the ultrasound, when it showed my ovary just doing its same normal healthy thing.
So, that is where I’m at right now.
I still hope to have kids someday, and as far as I know, there is no real reason why I won’t be able to.
Now that I write this, I can’t believe how sane and calm I sound.
Believe me, it wasn’t always this way. I was the same as those of you who end up sending me ten panicked emails (it’s okay, I say this affectionately). Really, I was. But I had no one to email. And now, for me, things are okay. And there is every reason to think that, eventually, they will be for you too.
My two previous posts on my surgery:
Beware the Red Herring (follow-up post)