Me Minus One

Hospital of Horrors..

Hey there world, I'm back - at least I think I am! This last Monday has been filled with anxious hours of waiting in the hospital while wearing one of those flattering gowns... white and green, low-backed... a dream!

On Monday, somewhere around 9 pm the nerve-wracking part was over. I needed to have surgery, a procedure called a Curettage and it meant that everything inside my uterus had to be completely scraped out.

Prior that day, my gynecologist had told me that the fetus was underdeveloped and basically already disconnected from my body, so there was nothing else left to do than to get it out of me as quickly as possible. It was strange to hear this news, especially since I didn't experience any symptoms of an early abort. There was nothing. I felt really good. A total of 11 weeks of being pregnant. Unfortunately, it went downhill from that moment onwards.

Brain, Help!

I always think that in a moment of crisis, I just have to listen to the rational side of my brain (since the other half laments incoherently for the most part anyways) and everything will turn out to be fine. I tried to talk myself into calming down for almost 7 hours, while I was lying there, waiting for the moment the doctors would scrape the fetus out of my body.

I told myself, that this shrimp-like thing wasn't alive to begin with, that it hadn't shown any sign of life except for the first few weeks when it had still grown. But it didn't even approach the stage of a definite heartbeat.

So it is comparable to cancer, I reasoned with myself, a cluster of cells that has to be removed.

And yet, I was terrified at the thought of having it removed. I ask you, do you know any cancer patient who is afraid of getting rid of his tumor? I don't! But for me, it meant the official end of my pregnancy. And I loathed that thought more than I was afraid of the surgery.

Status: Lonely and a Little Sad

It's basically true even now, that the fact that really makes me sad is the circumstance of me not being pregnant anymore. It was the happiest condition you can imagine to be in. I can recommend it to anyone, and I can wholeheartedly say this in spite of the possible risks I experienced firsthand. I want to talk about this openly, since I don't feel I have anything to hide.

I don't want to be a dark figure, disguising the statistics of mishap. And I don't assess this event as some sort of personal failure. I have to say that I despise this societal trend to conceal those sorts of experiences in one's personal curriculum vitae. I don't think that only good news are news-worthy. But unfortunately, there are no Dislike-Buttons, only sad smileys to cope with pain. So, there you go. :(

I feel comfortable to tell everybody that I am sad about my loss. I don't need to hear that it is not my fault. It's some sort of delusion to think that we have anything to say in these biological processes anyway. Except for the odds thrown into the game by me being 31 years old, I can't do anything to affect the outcome.

I know the risks. They remain unchanged for now and worsen with age. Still, I will try it again. And I'm confident it will work out some day.