Last Halloween, whilst my friends were out partying and kids in costume were stalking the streets, I lay in a hospital bed. The night before I had undergone an ovarian transposition, an operation that I talk about in the post that I wrote that night, which you can find here. I will be chatting a bit more about this operation and this part of my treatment over the coming weeks, but for now I will just give you the basics and keep it short and sweet.
One of the things that I did not mention when talking about the operation was that it means that I will now need IVF if I ever want children. Now, before chemotherapy begins and it has the chance to potentially destroy my eggs, rendering me infertile, I am starting injections which will allow me to have an egg harvest. Note that my chemo regime will not definitely cause me to
lose my fertility, indeed they are hopeful that it won’t at all, rather this will act as a precaution just in case it does.
Do not panic ladies and gentleman! This does not mean I am about to have kids. Funnily enough, I think I’ll wait a few more years, or at least until my treatment is finished. And until I am ready to push a little bundle of joy the size of a watermelon out of my vagina , or, if you are weird and this is what you prefer to call it, my tuppence (I am so sorry for typing that, it is what my mum calls it – forever ruining Mary Poppins’ song, “Feed the Birds, Tuppence (bleurgh) a Bag”).
Today I had yet another appointment in the reproductive health medicine department at UCLH and tonight I will be having my first of what feels like thousands of impending injections. The next few weeks are going to be madly intense with scans and blood tests on top of the ridiculous amount of appointments I already had.
I am writing this so that you know why if, in the coming weeks, I begin to post less and less. Either it is my busy cancer calendar or I am in prison/on the run, after murdering everyone within a five mile radius when, in the midst of a hormone induced rage, I found someone did something mildly frustrating.
Anyway, all in all, things are about to get crazy.
Very, very hormonal.
Show me the chocolate.