I saw my gyn today for my yearly checkup. Now, you would expect the doctor who sees me once a year would need to glance at my chart to remember my case. Nope. His nurses know me, too.
You see, in 2003 and 2004 I had surgeries with the doctor. Not everyone goes under the knife twice for a hysterectomy. Obviously, the 2003 surgery is NOT when he removed the parts in question. He opened my abdomen and saw the worst case of adhesions in his 30+ year career. After a consult with a surgeon (the same one he worked with earlier in the year on my gall bladder/take-a-peek-at-the-baby-maker-stuff surgery), I was sewn shut. That's right; open and close and nothing was done. Doctors remember stuff like that. The decision was to discover what was under the scar tissue before cutting into it. Several tests later we get an answer: endometriosis. So much of it that it had invaded the bowel. At least I wasn't going to die. Yet.
After 10 monthly shots (for which I had to drive to Waco, an hour away- one way, just to get stabbed) and time to heal, the following summer I went under again. Three doctors worked on me: gyn, general surgeon, and urologist. They took everything, with my blessing, patched the colon, and discovered a narrowness in one ureter. This resulted in months of stints to widen it. And almost constant pain meds.
One year my New Year's resolution was to not get put under anesthesia again. I succeeded.
Why does my doctor remember me? Of the three women he has 'opened and closed' without removing anything, I am the only one still alive- the only one who didn't have cancer.
Today I came to appreciate my life a great deal more. I've been given a gift. Even with coronary artery disease, I have my life and I need to take care of me. Thank you, God. Thank you, Doctor.