Going under the knife...I mean, robot.

My first and only surgery was way back in 1984 - a tonsillectomy at the age of seven.  I remember it as a horrible experience, mostly because I got homesick, had a share a room with three other sick kids, and I threw up blood.  Since then I've made sure to stay as far away as I can from a hospital, unless absolutely necessary.  And, luckily, I haven't had any medical problems which required a trip to the ER (I can't say as much for Porter, but that's another story).  That is, until now.

We went in for a detailed sonogram to check for congenital heart defects in Baby Degan #2 on Tuesday, August 28.  Everything was going fine, until we spoke with the doctor after the ultrasound was done.  The first words out of his mouth were that the baby's heart looked fine, but we should come back in about a month to double check just to be sure (the heart was not completely developed at that point).  Then he continues by saying "As for you (while looking at me), you have a very large cyst on your right ovary."  Well, just peachy.  We come to learn that the cyst is probably benign, and it is VERY large - too large for it to remain inside while I'm growing a human.  So, off we went to the gynecological oncology center to set up a consultation.  An appointment was available in two days, so I took it.  

The ride home from Chapel Hill was interesting.  Luckily, Porter was able to spend the entire day with Bebe exploring Franklin Street and sitting in on a UNC basketball practice (?).  He was content in the backseat, while we were flabbergasted in the front.  Surgery? No surgery? Not sure. Thursday will tell.

Brian and Porter stayed home on Thursday, since it just didn't make sense to do the 7 hour trip (there and back) with the little guy in tow.  I got up there for my 1:30 appointment in the nick of time, and before I knew it, I was in pre-care preparing for surgery.  The oncologists wanted the cyst removed ASAP.  Its size (8x8x6 cm) and the chance for it to twist (torsion) was too great.  I was in the oncologist's office for literally only 6 minutes before he said "We've got an opening next Friday, you up for it?" Of course I said yes, and I spent the rest of the afternoon giving blood and talking with the anesthesiologist.  The benefits outweighed the risks in regards to the anesthesia, and timing could not have been more perfect.  Non-obstetric surgery during pregnancy is recommended during weeks 18 to 22, and I was within that window.  Major organ development was finished, and the baby was not too big to get in the way during the procedure.  The cool thing was that instead of a laparotomy (large incision), the surgery could be done laparoscopically (small incisions).  In addition, the surgery would be done with the help of a robot.  That's right, folks.  I went under the robot.  UNC has a special robot called the da Vinci that is used for many types of surgery.  It's a very interesting set-up.  The surgeon doing the procedure sits at a 3D console viewing the patient through a camera, while controlling the robotic arms.  Don't worry, there's another surgeon with the actual patient.  Evidently it's the only such robot approved by the FDA in the US.  

The surgery was scheduled for 11am the following Friday, so we drove to Chapel Hill in the morning, dropped off the little guy with Bebe, and made our way to the hospital.  I got suited up, and they wheeled me into the operation room around noon.  I was given Fentanyl right before I went under, and it was freaky!  That was the same pain medication that Porter was on during his recovery, so now I know exactly how he felt.  Freaky!  The surgery took about an hour and a half, and I was in recovery for about an hour (which felt like 10 minutes).  Really it seemed as if I woke up and they handed me the discharge papers.  We were in the car by 6pm, driving home, and checking out my four small 'boo-boos.'  

So here I sit, sans one ovary, and I feel great.  Well, I feel exactly how I felt before the surgery, but whatever.  The doctors were surprised that I didn't have any pain pre-op, and were doubly surprised when they found that it had already twisted!  Apparently this is very painful.  I guess I have a high tolerance for pain.  The day after the surgery the high-tolerance-for-pain hypothesis went out the window.  I felt like someone had filled me with carbon dioxide and ripped out my ovary.  The residual carbon dioxide used to inflate my body cavity was rumbling around, and I couldn't get it out.  There has been no other time during my life that I WANTED to have a lot of flatulence.  Bring on the farts!  But they didn't come.  And to make matters worse, my shoulders were killing me!  Shoulders?!  Apparently,  the excess gas pushes on the phrenic nerve, which connects the diaphragm with the shoulder.  I was having referred pain.  Thankfully I have a husband who was willing to go and buy all the ice packs he could find, and I spent the next couple of days icing my shoulders.  Unfortunately, I couldn't pick up Porter, and that was no fun.  He was very sweet about it.  He knew that I had boo-boos and he had to be very gentle with me.  He still asks to look at them every now and then.

As for the cyst, it was completely benign, and classified as a dermoid cyst (also called a tertoid tumor).  Dermoid cysts are derived from embryonic tissues, and consist of a fibrous wall lined with epithelium and a cavity containing fatty material, hair, teeth, bits of bone, and cartilage.  WHAT?!?!?  Mine lacked teeth, bone and cartilage, but had lots of hair.  That's crazy.  DO NOT search for 'dermoid cyst' in Google Images.  You will vomit, regardless of your pain tolerance.

-- Jacqui