The Unicorn Of Doctors

After years of searching, I was not able to find a doctor willing to give me a hysterectomy before I turned thirty. Discouraged and frustrated, I went to one more doctor at my spouse’s urging just before my birthday.

Doctor: “So what brings you in today?”

Me: “I want a hysterectomy. I’ve been to at least three other doctors in attempts to get it. The first two turned me down because I’m not yet thirty and I don’t have kids. The second one agreed but then later tried to talk me out of it. He said I would change my mind about kids.”

Doctor: “Yes, some doctors have outdated ideas about women and childbearing. I see here on your file that you’ve been on several different types of birth control. For your Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS), I’m assuming?”

Me: *Nodding* “I also have other issues that we were hoping birth control can fix, and it didn’t so much as make a dent.”

Doctor: “Like what?”

Me: “On my longest period, I bled for fifty-six consecutive days. My first ovarian cyst ruptured when I was nine years old. On average, I’m bleeding for ten to fourteen days. I’m usually so nauseated that I literally cannot eat for the first forty-eight hours because I’ll violently puke whatever I just ate right back up. My spouse and I do not want children, and I now have other chronic issues to deal with. My aunt died last year of ovarian cancer. I want this system out of me.”

Doctor: “Okay, let’s do a physical exam real quick and I’ll put you on the schedule.”

Me: *Stunned silence*

Doctor: “If I don’t find anything pressing in the exam, it might take a couple of months, but we’ll get this done for you. Your family history of cancer alone is enough for me, not to mention the number of cysts your body likes to grow.”

Me: “Just like that? Really?”

Doctor: “Really. I’m not in the business of telling someone to not do a surgery when there’s a very good chance it will help them. If someone wants a hysterectomy, I’m going to give it to them, and I think you need one.”

I got a call a few days later, scheduling the surgery for a week after my birthday. It turned out that I had cancerous tumors that needed to be removed on top of eleven cysts, one of which was the size of a softball and had begun growing hair. If this final doctor hadn’t agreed to do the surgery, I would have needed intensive cancer treatment within a year.

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