Hysteroscopy

Saturday 25th March 2017
BMI Coombe Wing
Kingston Hospital, London

Seven weeks on from my first procedure I was back on the same private ward ready for my second general anaesthetic and my second hysteroscopy. I felt so much more relaxed this time round, knowing there was no incision surgery and what to expect with the anaesthetic - I was almost looking forward to it! The only thing in the back of my mind was the trauma of the catheter after my last surgery - I was really hoping I wouldn't have to go through that experience EVER again.

Diverting from the subject momentarily as March is an important month for ladies worldwide. International Women's Day occurs annually on the 8th and what you probably don't know is that March is also Endometriosis Awareness Month. On the day of my second surgery there were marches happening in 47 countries globally to raise attention to this crippling condition. From Argentina to Kuwait to Zimbabwe - women (and men) were out in force! In London, along with the march, a few ladies met with MPs at Downing Street to discuss the issues surrounding misdiagnosis and unacceptable diagnosis times - hopefully this will lead to more awareness and guidelines for GPs. This would definitely be a few steps in the right direction.

Mr Kalu did his circulation of the ward early and informed me I was first on the theatre list once more. He explained that he was going to remove the coil and 'tidy up' any remaining tissue with the aid of a hysteroscope.

Now, I've looked online at what this involves and quite frankly the instrument scares the bejesus out of me. It's a thin(ish) metal rod with a camera on the end which relays images of ones uterus back to a monitor so the doctor or nurse can have a good ganders. I know it's not the first time I've had the pleasure of meeting this device, but for some reason the hysteroscope horrifies me, I was glad I was going to be knocked out for this procedure.

I find the experience of having a general anaesthetic an enjoyable but also a strange one. I don't remember the feeling of 'going under' for a few seconds beforehand - no countdown from 10 - just awake and then gone. I can only compare it to having a light in my brain that only flicks off, rather than a gradual dimmer switch.

I am relieved to say the the whole procedure, from going down for the general, to the operation felt a lot less traumatic and more straightforward. I'm assuming the anaesthetist gave me a much lower dose this time round as I was more keen to return to the land of living post-op. As soon as I was back in my room I was alert, sitting up chatting and I felt pretty good. My mouth was less dry and I had an appetite. An hour later I crashed.

Just before Mr Kalu did his afternoon rounds, I managed to pee. A lot. I was so happy I could've cried. Unfortunately my elation was short-lived.

Mr Kalu explained that he'd managed to remove more of the fibrous tissue but it was difficult to remove everything. He went on to explain that this would be the last time he'd carry out the procedure as he was concerned about creating scarring and adhesions which could add to my endo/adeno problems. He'd put in another copper coil to once again help with endometrial lining growth over the site. Wait, what? That wasn't part of the plan. I assumed this was all because the tissue had grown back and that this was always going to be a recurring problem. It definitely felt like one step forward, two steps back, this left me feeling extremely dejected and I struggled to fight back the tears in the car on the way home.