Chapter Three

“Are you in pain? Do I need to get a nurse?” my mother asked, looking at me concerned.

“Only when I laugh, but it is going away.” I told her. I was starting to regret asking her to help me when I get out of here. Well I can deal with her for a few days. I’ve never been the best patient since I was little and had to constantly go to the hospital. That’s when we found out that I had Polycystic Ovary Syndrome(PCOS) in the first place. When I was eight years old, I began to develop. Some might say “Well what’s wrong with that?” The problem is that I had surpassed training bras and was wearing a B cup. The doctor we went to see told my mother it was just “fatty tissue” and there was nothing to worry about and I would grow out of it. Yeah right. After going somewhere else we were referred to a specialist and I was properly diagnosed and here we are today.

My family and I talked for a while longer but it wasn’t until I began to become sleepy that I realized nobody said anything about me going home. When the doctor was explaining the surgery and recovery to me, he mentioned that in some cases people went home the same day and sometimes the patient had to stay for observation, but that depends on what was found when they were conducting the procedure or if there were any complications. My brain automatically started to wonder why I had to stay. It was obvious that I was not going home given the time and also because I am sure I would have been told by a nurse by now. Well I won’t get any answers if I don’t ask any questions.

“Hey guys, do either of you know when I get to go home?” They looked up and then looked at each other before my mother spoke.

“Well sweetie, you’re going to have to stay here a little while.” I looked at both of them confused before asking my obvious question.

“How long is a little while?” Overnight in this place is too long for me.

“Baby you’re going to have to stay here for at least three days. When they went in they found two more cysts and they were able to remove them successfully but umm…” What? Why isn’t she finishing her sentence? Was one of them cancerous? Am I dying? They are just looking at each other and nobody is answering me. I’m starting to get pissed off and can feel my blood pressure rising.

“Will one of you just tell me what’s going on before I go crazy? Am I dying or something?”

“No, you aren’t dying but they want to wait and see if there will be any permanent scarring to your uterus or ovaries from the surgery.” My mother looked away from me with sadness in her eyes. I remember reading something about that and what can happen if the scar damage was too much. Honestly I didn’t want to think about that because if I let my mind go there it would open a box that I may never be able to close. I accepted what was told to me at thirteen but they didn’t know for certain so of course I had some hope, but now I am not so sure and I don’t want to have to deal with those emotions.

Not knowing what to say to the information I just laid back and pressed the button to adjust my bed so I could sleep. This definitely had been one hell of a day. How did I go from being happy about my new assistant to having surgery and now the very real possibility that I’ll never be able to have children? This all has to be some kind of sick nightmare and if so, I’m so ready to wake up. My sister asks me if I am okay and I shake my head yes or at least I think I do cause I feel like I’m in a daze at the moment. Thankfully my mother suggests letting me rest and they hug and kiss me telling me good night and then they are gone. I cut off the lights and closed my eyes. Moments later I sit up and look at my phone thinking about calling my mother but change my mind and lay back down and say a prayer before falling asleep.

The next two days went surprisingly okay. As usual I was annoyed by all the poking and prodding but I was more compliant than before given my new situation. The staff noticed I was different but never said anything. They were probably secretly relieved because I know I gave them hell before I had the surgery. Honestly I was too depressed to be a problem and in a considerable amount of pain. I’ll get around to apologizing but that is not the most important issue on my mind at the moment. This is supposed to be my last day here and the doctor still hasn’t come to my room yet to clear me to go home.

“Why is he taking so long to get here? I’m ready to go home now. I’ve had enough of this place and the food.” Honestly the food wasn’t all that bad but I prefer my own cooking. My lunch tray comes and I eat my food then get up and start to pack my belongings then sit in my bed and start to look through my phone. I had tons of missed messages from Darrell as well as phone calls. “I’ll deal with him when I get home. The bright side is that I don’t have to deal with him for a while since I can’t do any strenuous activity, not that the ten minutes he gives me is strenuous.”

Finally the doctor comes in an hour later and tells me that there was some scarring and it shouldn’t make me sterile from what he can tell but it will be difficult for me to conceive whenever I am ready to have children. He sends in the nurse after asking if I have any questions and she starts to tell me all the things to look for that could mean infection, how to clean and dress my wound, and a whole bunch of other information along with discharge papers for me to sign then I’m told that I can go as soon as my ride gets here. “I am ready to go now since my car is still downstairs from when I drove myself here three days ago.” She looked at me and told me that it would be better if I called someone because I shouldn’t drive with all the medicine I’m taking plus the surgery itself. Feeling defeated and not wanting to be here any longer than I have to be, I call my sister to pick me up. She says that she’ll be here in ten minutes because she was already in the area.

After I hung up, I let the nurse know and we gathered my belongings before putting me in a wheelchair then we went to the elevators and downstairs to the patient pick-up area. When I saw my sister’s car pull up I started to stand so I could walk to the car, but this nurse wasn’t having it and made me sit back down before wheeling me closer to the car and put me in the backseat. Apparently I’m not allowed to ride in the front seat for a week. The joke was on her because if they think I’m leaving my car here they better think again. Staying calm, I politely thank the nurse once my things and I are inside the backseat and close the door. Once my sister pulls off and we say hello to one another she asks me how I’m doing and I tell her that I’ll be fine as soon as I’m home and get to sleep in my bed without being bothered by people every fifteen minutes. She started laughing and so did I as I started looking for my keys. “What are you doing back there?” my sister asked while I kept rummaging through my things.

“I’m looking for my keys. Oh can you take me by the emergency room?” She looked back at me through the rearview mirror concerned. I just rolled my eyes.

“Stop looking at me like that because nothing is wrong with me. I just need to pick up my car. I am not leaving it here another day.”

“You aren’t supposed to be driving.”

“We aren’t going that far and you’ll be right behind me but you really don’t need to follow me.”

“Why are you so stubborn? We can come back for your car another day but not right after you get out.”

“I really don’t want to argue with you. Please just take me to my car so I don’t have to come back here? I promise that I won’t drive after this but I really don’t like the idea of leaving my car here any longer.” She looked at me then closed her eyes for a second before sighing and taking me to my car.