Sunday Night-- The Discovery
March 11, the day before my surgery, I was soooo ready. I don’t think I have ever been more prepared for anything in my entire life. I sent off a birthday present for a birthday that would fall during my recovery. I am soooo bad about getting birthday stuff sent on time. I organized my household for my absence. I wrote out all the checks for the bills so that they could just be dropped in the mail the week after surgery. I even printed out two copies of my calendar so that my husband and sister would know where everybody needed to be during the time I wouldn’t be allowed to run my taxi service. I went to the mall and purchased some hospital attire and had my engagement ring cut off. They told me I couldn’t wear jewelry because they use electric knives during surgery. If the rings were left on, I might get an electrical burn on my finger.
Mentally, I was ready to move on to the next phase of my life. By March 11, somewhere around 8 pm, I was finally at the point where I could pack my suitcase and begin my preparation for surgery.
This is where God intervened. Before I reached for the laxatives, I had an overwhelming urge to use that pregnancy test hidden in the top of my closet. Now I don’t usually keep pregnancy tests in the house and used them randomly. Back in September I was 10 days late. I really didn’t believe that I was pregnant, because by 10 days late, I would have severe nausea. I bought the test, which came two to a pack, to rule out pregnancy, and then made an appointment to see the doctor. That’s when we discovered the fibroids. I like to think of myself as a practical person and it didn’t make sense for me to even waste this test. As far as I knew, they did a pregnancy test the previous Tuesday when I went for my pre-op tests. If it were positive, surely someone would have called by now. Besides, I wasn’t even “late” yet. Still I reached for the test. It was almost like I was watching my hand reach up to get it and I couldn’t stop it.
As I watched the moisture travel down the “stick” and the first line appeared I thought, “Good, at least the test still works.” When the second line appeared (one line = not pregnant, two lines = pregnant) I just sat and stared at it for the full three minutes waiting for that second line to disappear! My mind was going crazy!! I must be dreaming, right! I started looking around for the hidden cameras. I’m having a hysterectomy tomorrow….am I being Punk’d??? I’m too old for this! I’m 44 ... and a half! This can’t be happening???
I don’t know how much time passed, maybe only a few minutes, but when I heard Michael come in the door from church, I calmly called for him to come upstairs right away. I may have appeared to be calm, but internally, I was the exact opposite.—hysterical!
I told him what happened, and asked, “What should I do?” He suggested that I call the doctor’s office and ask them about the accuracy of those tests. The box boasted of 99% accuracy rate. It was Sunday night so I got the answering service who told me a nurse would call me back. It took about an hour for her to call. When she did call, she suggested that I go ahead with my surgery preparation and have them repeat the test in the morning at the hospital. Her reasoning was that if the home test was faulty, I wouldn’t have to reschedule the surgery and all the people involved. She added that nothing would be done without my consent. I followed her advice. Michael and I got down on our knees before going to bed and asked the Lord for wisdom and protection in the face of this uncertainty. I didn’t sleep much at all that night. Honestly at this point, I was more afraid of pregnancy and miscarriage than surgery.