Miss Havisham

Women of a certain age that have not had children should be prepared for the consequences. So quoth my generally lovely doctor when confronted by my now lengthy wailing about issues in my pelvic area. Yeah, right dear – I’d just have had a nervous breakdown from the overwhelming responsibility of screwing up someone else’s life. Some people really shouldn’t have kids. Trust me.

However, it took chronic anaemia to force the issue. A couple of physical collapses helped. You know, that grinding, fist clenchingly awful pain in your groin that has you walking like there’s a grotesquely full nappy sack suspended between your legs. First I tried the pills. Mefanamic acid was a delight – did everything it said on the tin. Sadly, it also did a whole lot more and when my vocal chords began to swell somewhat alarmingly, the pharmacist had the heebies, demanded I stop taking them immediately and sent me packing back to the GP. Result: allergy to ibuprofen confirmed. Not good for an asthmatic.

I have odd reactions to medications. So I switched to limited doses of codeine. This worked well. Too well. Dear god, it works so well.  I live in a very happy place on codeine. Shame I’m incapable of coherent thought or anything remotely normal on even the smallest doses. But oooooooh so haaaaaapppppyyyyy! Fluffy! There is the slight issue of it’s addictive nature of course, but I suspect my disorientation is more likely to have me flattened by a truck.

So the good Doctor packed me off for an ultra sound. Fine…I slurped the litre of water, clenched my bladder for an hour and then wheeled in to see a delightful Irish lady who had me laughing so hard she had to pause the scan. Mind, she did threaten me with an internal, which clenched my humour up rapidly. That and the search for my ‘missing’ right ovary. After a fairly graphic conversation that would have the male half of the population running gibbering for the hills, the diagnosis was official: Miss Havisham and Estella have set up home in my womb.  Miss H being a big, womb curdling cow bag of a fibroid, full of malevolently mutated oestrogen apparently thwarted by a life of childlessness. Estella being the dinky one off to the right. No wonder that ovary had gone into hibernation with those two evil bags on the horizon.

Exactly what I see in the mirror when Miss H grabs my short & curlies

Exactly what I see in the mirror when Miss H grabs my short & curlies

Next week I meet the good Doctor to discuss action. Now if it were up to me, Miss H and her little leech would be lasered off until eternity.  This being the NHS I will have to work through the various useless alternatives and barbaric methods of treatment that had to be devised by a bloke. Hot wax to the womb anyone? (Don’t believe me, then google endrometrial ablation). And the apparent saviour of all pre menopausal women everywhere – the mirena coil.  Oh no, mate. That ain’t happening. I’ve been told by too many lady doctors that my various parts are ‘shy’, ‘hidden’, ‘bendy’. No one – but no one – is attempting to implant something with sharp edges in my dainty lady areas. I appreciate the good Doctor will repeat the phrase ‘I’m on transmit but no one is receiving’ at me in his plaintive way as usual. Mate, as a doctor, you’re a damn fine human being. But you are also very conservative. And I am not having anything I cannot control myself stuck anywhere up my nether regions. Call me a control freak, call me stubborn – I don’t care. I’d rather keep Havisham, a hot water bottle and the codeine than have your plastic parts emitting their radiation inside me. Or harpooning a fallopian tube. If they can ever find one.

Isn’t encroaching cronedom grand? I’m now off to hide under a mound of feather pillows for eternity. With my hot water bottle.

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5 thoughts on “Miss Havisham

  1. I remember Miss Havisham! NOT a good personality to have inside one’s innards, I think… Good luck with convincing your doctor(s) to do what you REALLY NEED done, not what the NHS thinks you ought to have done.

  2. Hah! Been there before, have learnt (the hard way) that you have to follow due process and just try to manipulate it to move as fast as possible. In all seriousness, it’s a wonderful service (my husband has some very nasty autoimmune conditions and gets around £15,000 worth of meds free each year to treat them), but it does have it’s set criteria and ways of working. We’ll get there. Though I do vividly recall the time they proscribed me cheap asthma meds known to occasionally make drug sensitive people go off their chumps with anxiety. That wasn’t fun. They’ve never made that mistake again, I was basically crying and chewing the carpets at my local clinic. I’m now on the expensive stuff for life, and the difference in my health has been remarkable. Sorry if that post was a bit gruesome, I just needed to let it all out!!

    • Not overly gruesome at all, really. I think it’s important that women (and men, too) discuss these things publicly. If we don’t, people remain in ignorance, and nothing gets done to fix what needs fixing.

      They’ve been talking about nationalizing medicine for ages now here in the U.S., but I really don’t think it will happen any time soon, if at all. The drug companies and for-profit institutions just don’t want to let go of all that cash, and Big Business has way too much power here… 😦

      • BellaDonna, thank you for your comment. From someone in the UK who has had the benefit of free care for life, it sometimes can be bewildering to see US politicians so vehemently opposed to something we take for granted here – free healthcare at the point of need. What is worrying here is how the current government is letting big business and pharma in by the back door, creating internal markets and sending costs ballooning. The NHS often appears to be held up for ridicule by American politicians, which I just don’t get – the lives of several members of my family have been repeatedly saved by free treatment for serious heart conditions, and my husband is able to work and live a reasonably normal life with his pain controlled by rather special medication.

        With regards to my fun with fibroids (the female version of Sheldon’s Fun with Flags?!), the lady who carried out my ultra sound was absolutely right, telling me that she meets so many women who have suffered in silence for years thinking what they went through was normal and should just be accepted, when actually there is good treatment available and if we all talked about it a bit more (try telling that to my male manager!) then more women would get help sooner. I just have to work through the stages!!

  3. Pingback: Bat Fit: Throwing out the FRUMP! | Breaking the Angel

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