Today I'd like to share more about my own personal baseball that current resides inside of me. I know I already shared quite a bit about my symptoms, but I thought that I would write a separate post about my cyst because it involves a whole other myriad of symptoms and issues. And like it or lump it (haha, get it)... it has become a part of me.
I didn't even know about it's existence until after my MRI on April 7th. Even then, the results of my MRI examination in my chart was a bunch of doctor speak... so I didn't really understand the full scope of it. At my follow up with my new gynecologist a few days later, Eliot and I discussed the cyst briefly with him, but we still didn't understand the full picture of what was actually going on inside of me.
It wasn't until later that Friday evening that things suddenly came into focus. After Eliot and I went to bed, we were laying there and he was rubbing my back while I tried to settle my thoughts from the day. I casually asked Eliot how big 8cm was since he's an engineer and he regularly works with the metric system. He replied that it's just over 3".
Suddenly, it was like the air was removed from the room as the information sunk in for both of us. Eliot started to make sure he was calculating the math correctly while I simultaneously asked our Alexa device how big it was. Both replied that 8 centemeters was about 3.15 inches. That's the size of a baseball, a hockey puck or an orange.
I immediately started to spiral, freaking out that I had cancer. I could tell that Eliot was starting to panic a little, but he tried to keep me calm. The doctor hadn't said anything about cancer at my appointment after all. Still, I spiraled and eventually he settled off into the land of sleep. Meanwhile, I lay in bed for another four hours with my thoughts and brain racing. I looked up images of ovarian cysts, information on how one could get that large. I tried again and again to fall asleep... but it wouldn't come. It wasn't until around 4:00 AM Saturday morning that I had finally fretted myself to sleep.
Suddenly, the cyst was all I could feel... and all I could think about. It wasn't until a few days later that I had my follow up ultrasound. (The first thing my doctor wanted me to do was have one to confirm what the MRI results showed.) Also, I should note that it was originally scheduled out another three weeks. But I called first thing Monday morning to see if they could get me in sooner. I'd spent the entire weekend freaking out, and I was done with that. Thankfully, they had an appointment the following day.
That Tuesday, I was super nervous about my ultrasound. I had done a trans-vaginal ultrasound before, so it wasn't the actual ultrasound that scared me. I'd also done the whole drink a boatload of water before coming so your bladder is full thing... I wasn't happy about it, but I would survive. But this time, I was going to the ultrasound knowing I had a giant cyst inside of me, and it hurt anyways without anyone pressing on it.
After all, I'd only had my MRI 8 days prior and I was still very sore from that. Laying still on the table for 45 minutes wasn't my favorite. But I'd realized that the thing they had to put on top of me to put pressure on my stomach had severely agitated me. (Looking back, now I know that all of this testing sent me into a multi-week long endo flare-up.)
Thankfully, the ultrasound wasn't awful. It didn't hurt my cyst nearly as bad as I had mentally prepared myself for. And my bladder wasn't screaming at me as much this time. Plus, this time I outright told the ultrasound tech that I wanted Eliot in the room with me. (He didn't come last time because I didn't think they would let him.) But I know after this time that having him there with me kept me more calm and relaxed.
That Friday, it was déjà vu as we walked back into my gynecologist's office for yet another follow up. My doctor checked both my MRI and my current ultrasound against the other ultrasound I had previously done the year before. The cyst on my ovary wasn't there a year ago. (Or if it was, it was so small that it wasn't noticeable.) He said that "8 cm cysts don't just show up like that," so that was a little bit alarming. But Eliot and I weren't as blindsided by everything this time, and we asked a ton of questions.
My doctor believed it was a cluster of chocolate cysts (also known as endometriomas) on my right ovary. Basically they're cysts that form made up of gross old blood. They are a result of endometriosis and are pretty common in people who have it. They're not generally a huge problem... until they get huge like mine did. There is a chance that it could burst, but he didn't think that was likely. (And unfortunately, if it did burst, there isn't much they can do for me anyways other than give me pain meds.) Eliot and I left the appointment with a lot more knowledge and peace- with a plan to seek excision surgery and treatment elsewhere since he wasn't comfortable operating on me.
Here we're flashing forward two months in time to when Eliot and I finally met with my surgeon mid-June... because all of the in between over those two months was long, frustrating, scary, painful and not something I'd like to re-live... even here on my blog.
The appointment with my surgeon finally came on 6/17 and it was such a relief to be in the office with the doctor who would treat me. It was down in MA, about an hour and a half and two states away. Thankfully, Eliot and I both immediately liked him. I told him about all of my symptoms and the story of how we got to where we were at.
I also told him about my cyst saying that "I call it my own personal baseball that I carry around everywhere with me." He then replied that it was larger than a baseball... and probably closer to a softball. (That's a large orange or smaller grapefruit for those not into sports.) So yeah... it's probably bigger than I thought. I'm still calling it a baseball... but who knows how big it actually is. It's also been three months since my MRI and ultrasound images were taken... so it could have grown even more since then.
Unfortunately, it was most likely one of my medications that caused the cyst to grow over the past year. Of course, no one will come right out and say it. But that's definitely the only logical reason that it's grown as exponentially as it has. I'm not an idiot and I did a bunch of research the night that I was completely terrified. I mentioned this to my surgeon and he nodded that it was a probable cause. He also confirmed with me that I'm not on any medications that would potentially cause more harm, and I said I'm not.
So for now, my own personal baseball still resides inside of me. I can feel it... not when I'm just sitting and relaxing- but when I get up and move. Since the endometriosis has attached body parts inside of me, there's a pulling sensation when I move certain ways. I can't reach out or up for anything without feeling everything inside of me shift. The cyst seems to be right in the middle of that... and I can feel it.
Now I have to wear extra loose clothing. I've given up on wearing my normal shorts and bike shorts this summer. And I'm so happy to be out of my leggings too. (The fleece ones were more stretchy, but the normal ones hurt like hell.) Like I said before, I'm mostly wearing maternity bike shorts since the waist band is high under my boobs and doesn't hit any of the tender spots on my stomach. Thankfully, the maternity shorts leave plenty of room for my growing cyst... so they're incredibly comfortable.
I'm extra careful with my stomach and I get why pregnant mothers instinctually protect their bellies... because I've caught myself doing it with my cyst. I take wide turns like a truck driver so I don't accidentally run into the wall or something. (I'm a known counter clipper and I've caught myself in the side too many times to count.) I sidestep in tight quarters to make sure I'm safe. And I quite literally hold my stomach when wandering through crowds to protect myself from someone passing by accidentally hitting me with a purse or bag. I have grown a protective bubble around myself... because my cyst already hurts enough- I really don't need it to have any reason to burst.
Right now, Eliot and I are not so patiently waiting to hear back from the hospital. I'd like to get this thing evicted as soon as I can. But in reality, we could be looking at August, September, October... who knows? For now, I'm just going to continue to baby myself and keep that protective bubble wrapped around my stomach and my baseball. 💛🎗🌻