Why I'm so happy to have mens underwear in my handbag

Today we have had our first successful experience with fertility treatments: the second surgical sperm retrieval procedure was a success!!! :) Hooray!

It was such a dramatically different experience from last time; just about everything was different and the positive outcome feels like the icing on the cake.

How it went:

We drove up to Hamilton (3.5hrs) yesterday afternoon and checked into our motel. Went and got some dinner, bought some books, and then watched some crappy movies on telly back at the motel.

Since we had got some Valium for Hubby, he took that and was snoring pretty soon. I had a lot of trouble getting to sleep, and would wake up heaps during the night. Woke up feeling like I'd been jogging all night, whilst eating soap (you know that taste? Yeah, that's sleepless night mouth taste for me!)

I was afraid that Hubby might not get up to the alarm in the morning with the extra medicine, so I set me alarm for 6.45 and since I was already awake, I got the first shower! Ha!

Watched breakfast news on telly, I ate some toast and Hubby made baleful-eyes at me since he was nil-by-mouth until after the procedure.

We packed up the room and loaded the car. I signed out of the motel and we headed over to the clinic.

This time when we arrived the clinic was alive with people (last time we got there before the staff!) and we signed in and went to the waiting room. Very quickly we were called back through to the yellow pre-op room with the lounge chair in it. We met the nurse who would be looking after us, Nurse H.

Then began the parade of introductions. First off Nurse H wanted the pre-op health questionnaire completed (last time we had all this done perfectly before we got there, this time? Meh! If they want it they will ask!). Then she did Hubby's blood pressure (188/something) so definitely high.

The embryologist, T, came and introduced herself and started explaining how she would be behind the little pop-hole in the room with the micro-scope. We told her we knew that and this was our second time... she hadn't read our chart! Not promising...

Next came the person who made the whole event possible: the anaesthetist, K. She was super cute and amazing, and instantly put both of us at ease. She had a great sense of humour (talked about propofol being "the Michael Jackson drug") and a relaxed attitude - and hey, you want the one with the drugs to be cruisy, right? :) Once Hubby relaxed I did too, and after she left we even laughed a bit!

Hubby had to change into the glamorous hospital moomoo:

Fortunately, Hubby's gown wasn't open at the back! Image from: https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDJ1L1McEz83m-HvhjyrtQ9VtROnwZ7VKSmQLWGCvUCE61EDSVZW95m8iDf2M2YNADIXMRXImutO1Tz2Lk-GvxZKmhkxphoiIilm4ZK0QR_cTkdIpAq8w3OFV_Spo4YQXfT_wm-DIMNE-J/s1600/HospitalGown.jpg

The nurse came back and put a tray full of stuff to put the IV line in on the table, and went out again.

Then the RE arrived. Now, up until this point, we didn't actually know who would be performing this operation. We knew with about 90% certainty that it wouldn't be our original RE, Dr R, since when Hubby took the call for the appointment booking, the nurse had told him that Dr R wouldn't be doing it. So we thought, well then, it must be someone who won't make such a hash of it, surely!

And we were right. We got Dr S, the senior doctor at the Hamildog clinic! He was confident and his manner and calmness relaxed us greatly. Instead of going straight to TESE (biopsy, more invasive, incision, stitches etc), he said he would try both PESA (small needle aspiration from the epididymis) and TESA (large needle aspiration directly from the teste) first. He reasoned that since Hubby would be sedated, there would be no problem moving from one technique to another until we got some sperm, and this way he may even be able to get a sample without doing the biosy altogether.

The anaesthesiologist came back and said that she wouldn't insert the IV line until Hubby had walked into the OR and gotten on the table, in case he fainted. I asked if I could come too, and did Hubby want me to? Yes? Ok. So through we all went.

It felt a bit surreal, here were were again, people in the same places as last time. Except this time we had K the anaesthetist sitting on Hubby's left, and different people in the role of Doctor, nurse, and embryologist. Others in the room were: Hubby, myself, and other nurse (same as last time for surgery assistance).

K got the IV line in very quickly, and Dr S prepped "the area" with drapes and sterile swab. Hubby and I joked about no matter how much they warm that liquid up, you can never get used to that feeling!

I helped put on the blood pressure cuff on his right arm, and the surgery assistance nurse worked to get all the proper needles ready for the PESA, TESA, TESE procedures. Nurse H coordinated with the embryologist through the pop hatch to get dishes (petri dishes!) ready for the samples.

K started the sedation and Hubby's eyelids started to flutter. He was trying very hard to tell me something about getting the camera, I think, to take a photo of the procedure. But he was out like a light and snoring gently in no time. I rubbed his shoulder and told him I loved him as he went to sleep, then warned the doctors that they were about to be treated to some snoring! They assured me they were used to it.

First try was the PESA, with the smallest needle into the left side. This produced a small drop of fluid and T the embryologist found I non-motile sperm in it. Dr S proclaimed that this meant there were in the right spot, but would have to look further with TESA as the epididymis would probably not provide very much.

Next up was TESA, with the wider-gauge needle into the left teste. Very soon (and without half as much effort as last time! No squeezing, no worried looks! So little blood!) Dr S had the first piece of tissue. I could see if from where I was sitting as it was transferred into the petri dish. Nurse H passed it through the hatch, and T found 3 sperm in it, although she must have later complained that the tubules (where the developing sperm live) were very thin, since Dr S told her that there were more samples coming.

A butterfly needle and syringe, used for TESA. Image from: http://www.ferretlove.co.uk/sub-q5-.jpg

Dr S went in with the TESA needle again and got some more tissue. When the needle came out it obviously had a sample on the end of it, and when they flushed air through the line, another sample came out! That's right! Another 2! He said that this amount of tissue was equivalent to what we could expect from an open biopsy anyway, and since there had been a total of 4 sperm found already he was happy to leave things at that. Hubby would not need the biopsy! I had to ask and check again!


Twice Hubby began to rouse but K just gave him some more sedative each time. The first time he tried to lift his head up a little bit and the second time was when is right arm fell off the side of the bed (!) - yes I know. The same bed, much, much too small for an adult man! Aside: last time the RE partially blamed the difficulty of the procedure on Hubby being overweight. Well, firstly, way to lay the guilt on Dr R! Good God woman, don't you have any compassion? And secondly, Hubby has worked really hard and has lost 10kgs in 3 months. So there!

The snoring. Well, yes, there was some snoring happening, and at one point I recognised the breath-motions that indicate sleep apnea to me. Normally I would roll him over or give him an elbow in the ribs to get him to take a proper breath. But of course, I couldn't really wiggle him during surgery! So I just asked them all if his breathing was ok, and Dr S assured by that his blood-oxygen was great, and K said that the "abdominal breathing" looked strange but that is was just deep sleeping breathing. I wasn't sure, mainly because he had an oxygen mask on his face and whereas before it had been fogging up with each exhale, now there was no fog at all. K lifted his chin with her finger and his airway opened and his took a great noisy snore, with fog, much to my relief. I must admit I didn't believe them when they said his breathing was fine, but it was resolved quickly and they listened to me and checked his vital signs so it was all good. I just know his snores so much better! lol!

To recap so far: 1 sperm non-motile found during PESA, 3 sperm found during TESA 1, 2 more samples received but not counted yet from TESA 2.

Once Dr S indicated that the procedure was over, things went very quickly. I was stunned (hard to explain the feeling. It wasn't relief, it wasn't happy, it was still so surreal that it was over and some had been found, but mixed with a very strong concern about how Hubby would feel upon recovery.

What I didn't expect was for him to come around quite so quickly. He started to wake, and I made sure to tell him that is was over, that he was very brave, and that is was a success. He asked "It's over already?" "Yes," I said. "Haha!" he laughed, which caused everyone in the OR to smile. He made other noises about not remembering anything once K put the IV line in, but he was very focused when Dr S leaned in and told him that the procedure was a success and we had found sperm. Hubby was still lying down, but moved to shake his hand and say thank you. Goodness, so polite and collected and still pretty much out of it! :)

Nurse H encouraged Hubby to sit up carefully and swing his legs over the bed. I pointed out the hatch to the lab, where we could see the embryologist working over several pinkly-tinted tiny petri dishes with her microscope. He commented that his "boys" were all in there now, and that they better do well. Nurse H, K, and the other nurse all made noise about them being both boys and girls, since he gets to decide! Cute! It was a very friendly and happy atmosphere. Nurse H got him standing up carefully, and then we all walked the short passage back to the pre-op / recovery room.

Hubby must have asked me how it went upwards of 7 times, and I remembered that one of the effects of the sedation was that he would have some confusion and loss of memory for a while. I joked with him that it was like talking to a goldfish. He told me it was great to get good news over and over because each time was genuinely the first time he'd heard it!

At various times an ice-pack, tea, and biscuits arrived. Hubby was instructed to get into his tight "supportive" underwear soon, and put the ice-pack on the op-site. Of course, he was grinning and forgetting and I was kissing and hugging him too much and it was hard to get him to actually put pants on. That is where the title of this post comes in. He'd brought the wrong undies, so I dashed down to the car and grabbed the tighties plus the tramadol = first lot of undies in the handbag! He got changed, drank tea, we took photos (sorry, not going to post those here, they're just for us), and I told The Story Of How The Sperm Were Found several more times.

Nurse H came back and took a blood pressure reading, removed the cannula, and read out the post-op instructions. All in all the procedure itself took about 15 - 20mins, and we were able to walk out and go find a cafe to fill up a ravenous Husband at about 10am.

He has minimal bruising, a small amount of swelling, and with tramadol, neurofen and panadol has been pain-free the rest of the day.

UPDATE: the embryologist called at 3.30pm and told Hubby that they managed to get 10 straws frozen! One was thawed and it looked amazing, apparently "couldn't be better"! She said it was enough for 5 x cycles! Wow! We did a verse of this song to celebrate:

So, it has been a very good day!

My operation went well...

... or, How I ended up with puffy clown hands!

WARNING: this is a long one. Also, it has some icky bits which I don't recommend if you are not a fan of blood, needles, surgery etc. It also may not be the most wonderful piece of prose you've ever read, due to my feeling absolutely whacked, and having sore hands. You've been warned.

Today is Friday, and I've been relaxing and making feijoa relish with my Mum after my hysteroscopy operation yesterday.

Here is the story from Thursday morning...

I had to wake up at the unholy hour of 6.30am to eat my (tiny) breakfast of 1 piece of toast and cup of tea. Because my surgery was scheduled for 12.00 I was on strict instructions to limit food intake. I ate my brekky, take my normal dose of Lantus, and a smaller dose of Humalog, just 3.5u, and crawled back into bed with hubby and kitty.

Cue a rude-awakening by the painters who are doing a marvelous job of making our house look all pretty. I'm hungry. I don't normally get hungry, cos I eat pretty consistently at the same times every day. I watch my hubby as he prepares delicious looking marmite on toast for his breakfast. Oh that smells gooooood! I mix up a drink bottle of sugar water, the only carb I will be allowed to take should I go low. This follows me everywhere I go.

We go to town and do some errands, with me checking my blood sugar roughly every hour. I've never had such a stable day in all my life! I'm flatlining at about 11 mmol/L.

We get back home just in time to pack a few bits and pieces and head up to the hospital for my check-in. We walk up, cos we live that close :)

I'm first on the list as we check into the day ward, and the receptionist is bright and cheery. She tells me I have a list of people who will come to see me (like my anaesthetic team, my ob/gyn), and we are directed to a waiting area. I just have time to sit down and start doing a quick blood test when my name is called.

The nurse takes us into a little room where she takes my pulse (99 bpm), blood pressure, and checks my chart. She figures out I'm diabetic because I'm still in the middle of my blood test! Luckily, she has a bit of experience with "brittle diabetics" before, and everything she says is just what I want to hear: "You know your body and your diabetes best, so we will just follow your lead", "Hubby knows about your diabetes? Yes? Good, we will get him to stay with you.", "Yes, you can use your own test kit" :D I like this nurse :D She offers to tell all the other nurses of my situation, and then says "No, I will organise it so that I'm your nurse all day!" Yay! Someone who understands! (unlike my anaesthetist! more on that later...)

Oh yeah, and because I'm having "gynie" surgery, she asks me to take a pregnancy test. I mean, that's kinda why we're here! Getting ready for visiting a fertility clinic! haha :P

I have a shared room, but at the start it's just me. I have a gorgeous mumu of a hospital gown to change into, and lovely nurse brings me warm blankets to snuggle into. Hubby stays with me and we read crappy womens mags and wait and wait and wait. I'm testing my blood sugar about every 30 mins now. Sitting at about 8 - 9 mmol/L. Couldn't be happier with that.

I'm a bit apprehensive, but it's more the boredom of waiting. We find a half-done crossword in the back of one of the mags and get stuck into that when my South-American anaesthetist arrives to check on me. Then my ob/gyn comes by and I sign the surgical consent form. Everything is going swell. Everyone is happy. Apart from my surgery getting delayed due to an emergency cesarean, everything is going according to plan. My blood sugar is about 6.8 mmol/L when I hear my name called.

Suddenly it's all go. I meet what feels like 17 new people all at once. Everyone introduces themselves with their first name, which I immediately forget. I put on a hair-net, and get wheeled into pre-op. Hubby comes too, on special orders of lovely nurse.

It feels odd being wheeled about. I can walk fine. We go out the doors of day ward, though the lobby area, and into pre-op. I get put into a new cubicle, which is much more high-tech than the last one. Many more buttons on the wall behind me! There are people in the other cubicles who are in various stages of readiness for surgery.

I want to do another blood test, but a nurse grabs my left hand and begins to search for a vein to put an IV line in. Hubby is on my right, and I ask him to do my test for me. We had a little practice in the day ward. Nurse inserts the cannula. Wiggles it around a bit. "That's starting to hurt a bit" I say. Hubby can't get any blood out of my finger. I feel a bit sick. The nurse is still wiggling the cannula. The back of my hand swells with blu-ish coloured blood. "I feel sick" Hubby tries another finger. The cannula has failed. They can't get the line in. Another nurse, and my anaesthetist appear. Everyone is swarming around me. A test of 4.8 mmol/L. I'm dropping like a stone. They try my right hand. I am getting giddy and the room is starting to swim. They try vein after vein. I am going low. "Sugar!!!!" I call. And "Ow ow ow it hurts" as they put countless cannulas into the backs of my hands and wrists, trying desperately to get a line in so they can give me dextrose.

The room spins, I feel VERY sick. My head falls back. Black. The most comfortable, familiar dream. Then I fall out, fall back onto the bed. "Is it over?" No. I had blacked out, and woken with a start, I hear hubby say "I think she's having a siezure", the anaesthetist says "she can't be, she's only 4.8, that's not low enough to be seizing". I'm lower than that. At this stage I have about 5 punctures in my hands. I can't hold a finger-pricker, I can't bend my fingers, there is massive swelling and bruising.

Because I went hypo, and I was stressed, and cold, my veins just basically closed up. Each time they would get the cannula into the vein, there was no pressure to push blood into it, the vein collapsed, so the line would fail. When the cannula was pulled out, blood would suddenly gush under the skin, and puff my hand out all blue. When I awoke from my black out, hubby said I kicked out, and ripped cannula number 5 out of my right hand somehow. So at this stage, I'm still very low, just come back conscious, and still have no line in. Two more tries. One on my left hand, another on my right. There is intense pain in both hands. I think I throw up about here sometime. They don't get me a dish in time and I wear it. "Sorry, sorry" I say. I feel terrible. Absolutely awful. Like there is a buffalo sitting on my chest, and a magnetic storm in my brain, and custard and vinegar in my stomach. Hubby holds my head, he's all I see.

The anaesthetist takes a breath. Asks for a larger grade pink cannula. Puts in in my left arm, further up this time. "Protect this, wrap it up good. We can't lose this line" she orders. I am pumped full of the strongest dextrose they have. And a electrolyte/dextrose drip is installed. Cue spew. Well, I just had a hypo! Everyone breathes a sigh of relief. Hubby tests me again, I'm up to 8 mmol/L in less than a minute. Amazing stuff.

And then it's time for hubby and I say our "I love yous" and I get wheeled into the operating room. I still feel quite out of it. The OR is not far away, just across the corridor from the pre-op room. I remember the ceiling was grey, the room was cool and airy, there were blue flat panel displays on the right wall, and enormous gleaming white contraptions coming from the roof. Huge lights. I wasn't scared. These people were all friendly and professional. I say "I feel sick" (yes, I know I should be saying "I'm gonna be sick", but give me a break!), and again, I wear it. They get me a bowl, I apologise for making their lovely room smell so bad.

The anaesthetist explains that she is going to give me something to calm me down. She tells the others in the room that I am diabetic "and she's very emotional" I want to rip her head off. No, I'm not emotional. I've just had a f*cken hypo you b1tch! But I am all calm on the outside, and the sedative is so good. The nausea goes away, I regain full cognisance, it seems. I half sit up and see my ob/gyn at the end of the bed. He will be my surgeon today.

A nurse asks if I feel able to scoot across to my right, to the operating table. I get halfway, and the sheet covering me gets stuck. :P Cue various nurses feeling under me to get the caught bit free!

A pillow under my shoulders, lie down. A soft oxygen mask over my nose, but too low so the soft bit squashes my nostrils. I ask for it to go "up, up" and they move it off my face a bit. Soft eyes of the nurse to my right. A black padded extension on my left for my arm to be strapped to, with the IV line in it. It reminds me of the tables you see in movies with the lethal injection. But I'm not scared. Just calm.

The nurses want to know about one of their colleagues, who I know and said hello to in the pre-op room, before all the brouhaha. We went to kung-fu classes together I tell them. Didn't you know? Oops, looks like I've spilled the beans! "Was he good at kung-fu?" they ask. Yep. "Just think of something nice, like kung-fu maybe? Oh, no! Not fighting! Just think of something nice..." I think of my hubby and my kitty. Gentle soft thoughts.

That was at about 2.00pm. I awake in the recovery room, which happens to be the same cubicle as the pre-op. Hubby isn't there. He's supposed to be there. I can't get the energy to ask for him though. A male nurse asks if I have any pain? A little cramping. He gets me a warm blanket all folded up, and places it on my tummy. I've very impressed, since he's a guy and all. But I don't open my eyes. Another nurse asks me if I would like to do a blood test. Yes. It's 11.9 she says. Is that ok for you? Yes. The blood pressure cuff keeps automatically inflating, and stirring me out of sleep.

I don't remember the ride back across to the day ward, but I remember waking up and getting a kiss from hubby. He looks shattered. I'm sick some more. They say something about my pulse, it's down at about 65 bpm. Tests are hovering around 12 mmol/L. Feel yucky, drowsy, dozy. It's about 4.30pm.

All afternoon is spent sleeping and waking to do tests. The lovely nurse asks if I want to eat something, and suddenly I do. She brings two sandwiches, and gives me the wrong one, plus a cup of tea, one sugar. Don't feel like eating. If I move my head, bad things happen. If I don't eat, they won't let me go home. If I am sick again, they will keep me overnight. I nibble on the luncheon, relish and cheese sandwich. It is the most delicious thing I've ever tasted.

I ask Hubby if he's had anything to eat? Here, have my sandwich, you have to eat something! Lovely nurse comes back and thinks I'm making remarkable progress hehe :P

The afternoon is boring. Poor hubby stays by my side. I suddenly seem to get all better, and start talking sense. Lovely nurse agrees, and says that she will bring me some wash cloths. Hubby will walk home to get the car, and a coat for me, since it has started snowing on the mountain.

I am left alone to figure out how to get dressed with an IV still attached. I can't figure out how on earth I'm supposed to put my bra on with one hand. I am very pleased to be standing up and not too woozy. Just do everything slowly. Socks first. Pink t-shirt tangled in IV line. Jeans on. Sneakers. Hmm, can't do the laces with these sore hands. Tie some knots. Busting for a pee. Still attached to the bed!

Hubby returns, his footsteps are the best sound. He asks if I will be ok to go get some dinner. Burger King? Yep! Just what I feel like! He chases down the lovely nurse, and she comes back and untangles and unhooks me. IV out! Yahoo! I get bandages and cream for the bruising, and ice-packs. Coat on. Pit-stop, and then out we go to the car.

And that is my day in the hospital. We escaped around 6.30-ish.

Now I am sitting here typing this v-e-r-y slowly, watching American Idol, seeing Crystal singing I'm Alright by CaddyShack. (Did you know she's a T1?) And I feel fine. No cramps, no pain except for my hands. A bit tired. A weekend ahead of me :D

Morale of the story is this: If you ever EVER have to go in for surgery, and they ask you to stop eating before hand, ask for the IV to be installed as soon as you check in. That way, if you go low, or hypo, you can immediately get some dextrose pumped into you. In my case, something to calm me down wouldn't have gone astray either!

Thanks for reading, hope I haven't put you off your oats! Have a great weekend :D

A week of insanity!

So first of I want to say a big THANK YOU to Karen from BitterSweet for organising Diabetes Blog Week. It's been fantastic to write every day, and then read what everyone else is writing too! Great fun, and I can't wait until next time. You can check out the other blogs here.

I'm afraid that's where the fun ends, as this week has seriously gone to hell in a handcart!

I had my appointment with my anaesthetist, a lovely South American woman who decided it was ok to lecture me on diabetes, and repeat everything like I was dumb or something. In the end I just sat there looking at her, waiting for her to stop. And then after my consult was over, she decided it would be ok to keep discussing my case IN THE CORRIDOR which is pretty busy with lots of people walking past, and basically tell me that she's seen a letter saying I need a pump, and I should do that cos my diabetes control is not good enough. Ungh. (Don't worry, my brain was thinking "Slap her! Slap her! Go on!) But I just got away from her as fast as possible.

I trust that she knows her stuff, which is anaesthesia, but that does NOT make her an expert in diabetes. Several times througout our discussion (lecture?) I had to try and correct incorrect information.

For example:
Her: "I see here you've had diabeetus for 5 years..."
Me: "No, 22 years"
Her: "No I read it in your chart: 5 years it says here"
Me: "No, I was diagnosed when I was five!"

Or:
Her: "Now your maximum blood sugar can be 17.1, and your minimum has been as low as 2.9..."
Me: "No, that's not right..."
Her: "I have it on good authority, it's written down here, perhaps you don't want to think you've been that high..."
Me: "Those numbers are incorrect, I have in fact been much higher, and much lower"
(hey, does she think I'm trying to disguise my blood sugar readings or something??!)

Sigh

When I asked her what the cut off blood sugar reading was for proceeding with the surgery, she said she didn't have that data to hand. Transaltion: she has no idea what mmol/L numbers really mean!

I had terrible work stress yesterday as well. Like, earth-shattering, oh-mi-gawd, stress. A surprise meeting with the boss. Never much fun. He's too vague. I never know if I'm in trouble or not! :P

The situation has resolved itself now, and I'm feeling a lot less stressed, but what a start to the week!

Only one day of work left, and then I will be on leave to have my op on Thursday, and recover on Friday. It will be good to have it over and done with. To be honest, I'm no longer that worried about it. The procedure is really short, and I'm more worried about whether I will react to the drugs they give me and have vomiting afterwards. Not good!

Hubby has promised to hold my hand, and keep a watch over my diabetes control while I'm out of it. Which I really appreciate cos if they do decide I need a dose of insulin, if they give me the per-body-weight amount, I will go low! I'm quite sensitive to insulin, so I'm reassured he will be there.

I also found out that the majority of drug related mistakes in hospitals involve - you guessed it: insulin. I just don't want some know-it-all nurse elbowing her way in and upsetting my chi! :P

Bring on the weekend I say :)

I will get to see my OWN anaesthetist, at least...

I got a message after work on Friday saying my Tuesday appointment with the anaesthetist had been moved back a day to Monday. Oh that's just great. I had booked annual leave off work to attend on Tuesday, and also booked another doctor's apointment for later in the morning to use up the extra time.

This morning, Monday, I woke up earlier so I could call the hospital and try to fix it. But I was too early; they don't start taking calls at the booking office until about 8am, by which time I will have to be at work already. So the I've-not-had-my-coffee-yet-sounding receptionist trasnferred me around to another department with someone I could talk to, who explained that the appointment change was due to the pre-admissions nurse noting that I was diabetic, and would need to see the actual anaesthetist who would be there at my surgery.

What? So you normally see just some random anaesthetist? Sounds a bit stoopid to me!

Anyway, her heart was in the right place, because although it has well and truly mucked my day around, that nurse picked up on the fact that I will need special care by MY anaesthetist before, during, and after my op.

For instance, I am not allowed to eat anything for breakfast or lunch... that's a minor inconvenience for most people, but for me that's a calamity. I cannot just not eat for that long. Who knows what my blood sugars will do? Stress will put them higher (I guess), but lack of food will put them low (I know), but a reduced insulin dose to cope with no food with could put them higher again (if I don't get the dose exactly spot on!).

The nurse also emailed my endocrinologist to get him talking directly to the anaesthetist, which is a good thing. I want everyone on the same page here!

Long story short, I have re-jiggled all my appointments, and cancelled my annual leave for tomorrow. My surgery is at the end of next week and they managed to squeeze me in with a new anaesthetist appointment early next week. Whew. I couldn't stand waiting much more!

Oh, for an idea of how anaesthesia can affect a diabetic, check out Kerri Morrone Sparlings account of her daughters birth by c-section.

Surgery is scheduled!

I got my appointment cards for my hysteroscopy surgery yesterday. The operation will occur on the 20th of May, so that's about a month to wait. Not too long, in fact it's quicker than I expected. I thought perhaps being on the waitlist would make it about six months. The kindly ob/gyn wrote something special on my referral, which meant that while the hysteroscopy is not medically necessary or urgent, it is clinically urgent, to speed the fertility treatment process along.

The hysteroscopy is a 10 - 15 min operation done under anaesthesia where the doctor will use a small camera to look inside my uterus, and small tools to remove a 6mm polyp that was detected on an internal sonogram.

I would not normally have to have this procedure done, as the polyp is most likely benign, but the fertility clinic has requested I get the polyp removed to prevent it possibly acting as an IUD later on in the baby-makin' process.

I am quite nervous about this surgery, as it will be under general anaesthesia, which I've never had before. From what I hear from friends and family, it's not a pleasant experience. :(

I have appointments prior to the surgery with a nurse to introduce me to the hospital (ha! like I need that! :P) and with the aneasthetist, where I want to discuss how my diabetes will be controlled during the operation. I've been the only one in control of my diabetes since I was about ten. I want to talk to the anaesthetist about this, I'm sure it will all be fine - I know they are very skilled, but I just need them to put my mind at rest.