It’s been awhile since I have performed a truly rewarding surgery. Don’t get me wrong. Routine spays and neuters are incredibly important. But there is something about a good GI foreign body removal or a complex fracture repair. And it’s not just the rush of handling a scalpel or maneuvering a Synthes drill. It’s the preparation, the knowledge of how the body works and how we can support it by manipulating the situation into something more favorable.
I always feel better about this whole infertility thing when I am busy managing surgery or medicine cases at work. Those patients give me a purpose and serve as a perfect distraction from all of this madness we have stumbled upon. The really crappy thing is that with the holidays and the reduced case load we have, I have that much more time to stew and obsess. It’s like the perfect storm, me all Type A and control freakish with literally nothing to do but dwell upon our infertility. The Hubs loves this more than anyone can possibly imagine. Probably his most favorite thing ever.
Consequently, I am desperately attempting to keep my neurotic fixation on the down-low. This blog helps a ton, as does reading and sharing in others’ journeys. I have found so much strength, determination, and utter beauty in the many women I have had the blessing to come across. All of you are literally some of the most amazing people I have ever met. I find myself passionately rooting from the sidelines, hoping for the best even though the journey can be unbearable. And praying that whatever does happen will be at least okay in the end. Although I can be so pessimistic at times in my own life, I undoubtedly wear rose-colored glasses when I shout out cheers for others lives.
Yet, despite the fact that I do have a great deal of faith in medicine and surgery, there is no way that I can ignore the reality of our situation. I have had cases where every medical decision is appropriate and the owners have the financial backing in order to support whatever treatment option we can throw at them and, guess what, it doesn’t matter. We can’t fix everything. Lord knows that I have seen this time and again when managing breeding protocols in other species. The body is beautifully complex with an ample amount of mystery. That’s why we call it practicing and not doing medicine.
What this all means is that because my emotional defense has always historically been to study, I guess I will study human reproduction much as I studied equine, bovine, and small animal. I will continue to focus on our upcoming trip to Portland and my heavens do I LOVE the mountains and snow!!!. I will stubbornly avoid all Air Force establishments in order to save my fragile mental state from the constant parade of pregnant woman and babies (Cue situation that just occurred today. At least 3 very young pregnant military wives as well as a 1/2 dozen young babies and children all within 45 minutes. It’s fine.) I will resolutely attempt to forget the recent urology appointment we had where the MD so eloquently stated that, well, you’re not pregnant yet and your biological clock isn’t going to slow down. Um, thanks and noted. I will try to focus my attention on Alaska with hopes that maybe we will have orders to a duty station near Anchorage soon.
And I will hunt down as many more distractions as I can possibly find. It’s never too late to begin to crochet after all.