My battle with uterine fibroids

As a daughter of a gynaecologist, I knew the importance of going for yearly check-ups. I went faithfully until one day in my early 30s when I encountered a gynaecologist whose bedside manner left a lot to be desired.

I skipped out on my annual exam for about five years.

One day, I noticed that my menstrual flow had become quite heavy. I had to wear a tampon and a pad and change them hourly. I subsequently became anaemic. Also people began asking if I was pregnant.

One evening I felt a very large mass in my tummy. That prompted me to call my brother who was taking a pre-medicine degree who recommended I see a doctor.

I went to see the gynaecologist who on examining me thought I was about four or five months pregnant. A scan revealed numerous fibroids, one the size of a grapefruit. The doctor then asked that I get a transvaginal ultrasound scan to determine their extent of growth.

My life ground to a halt and I, known for being the toughest girl around, became an emotional wreck. Children have always been part of my big picture but now I wasn't sure if that was possible. I was devastated.

Back at my doctor's office, we went over my options. I wanted to have children at some point in my life. Could that happen? She suggested a procedure called a myomectomy, which is the surgical removal of fibroids from the uterus leaving it intact. She then referred me to a fertility expert.

Before performing the myomectomy, the specialist requested to do a hysterosalpingogram (a test to examine the cavity of the uterus and fallopian tubes). The procedure, which revealed a fibroid obstructing one of my tubes, was excruciatingly painful.

During surgery, the specialist discovered that I had numerous fibroids. With each cut, I bled profusely. My blood pressure also plummeted. My heart rate became erratic. The specialist removed as many fibroids as she could and made a decision to close me up.

My planned three-day hospital stay was extended to five days as I required blood transfusions. I left the hospital with a caesarean bikini cut and eight long weeks of painful recovery ahead of me. The only bright light was that my uterus was intact.

Yearning for motherhood

A follow-up appointment with the fertility specialist revealed that I had aggressive fibroids that had an 80 per cent chance of recurring. A transvaginal ultrasound scan revealed they had started growing again. The specialist recommended yearly visits to monitor their size and strongly suggested I get pregnant immediately.

I take the responsibility and weight of motherhood very seriously. Coupled to this was the reminder of the constant message I received growing up. That kids come with marriage and not before. After two years of monitoring the fibroids, I chose to stop seeing the fertility specialist because the pressure to have a child was too much. I didn't want a sperm donor; I wanted a present dad for my child.

Two years later, my gynaecologist told me that an exam revealed large fibroids and suggested I go back to the fertility specialist. I told the specialist that we needed to schedule a myomectomy. She refused on account that I had almost died on the table the first time around.

A hysterectomy or not?

The specialist advised me to have a child. To facilitate this, she suggested that she clean out the inside of my uterus removing any fibroids that might prevent me from carrying a child to term. Once cleaned out and healing was done I had to get pregnant right away.

If getting sperm was an issue, she offered, being a fertility specialist, there were other ways to get it. Having children would not be the end of my fibroid story. She said that the only thing that could end recurring fibroids and guarantee me a greater quality of life was a hysterectomy (complete removal of the uterus).

I gave it serious thought. There were many sleepless nights. There were many missed meals. I was still single and not dating. The only question that I had was whether I wanted to become a single parent.

Some of my nearest and dearest friends are single parents. Yes, there have been many happy times but I have also seen them brought to their knees by the challenges of being a single parent. There were many reminders that this was not a decision to be entered into lightly.

I know I could have been a single parent if I had to be. I, however, chose not to be. I chose my health and a better quality of life. I chose to have a partial hysterectomy that would keep my ovaries intact and prevent early onset menopause.

I was guided to the decision by facing three facts. First, giving birth to your own children is not the only way to be a mother. Secondly, if children were a part of my life through other means e.g. adoption or being an aunty, I would be OK. Thirdly, I would be no less a woman because I chose to have a hysterectomy.

A Monday in December found me signed up for surgery. It was done and I was back home by Tuesday with only four small scars to show for it. Healing this time around was a walk in the park.

Initially, I struggled with the weight of my decision but time has a way of taking care of such worries. It's been now five years since my hysterectomy and I am living and loving my life. I am a proud aunty to four nephews and one niece. I do not regret my decision.