“They do seem to help a little most of the time, but during my period the pain is still awful,” I explain.
“I think we should explore the laparoscopic option, getting rid of that tissue would help tremendously,” she says.
“That’s the route I’d like to go, since nothing else seems to help enough,” I agree.
The receptionist took my new insurance information when I checked in, and I have no doubt Dr. Naraya notices it now as she glances over my chart.
“Your insurance should hopefully helpmake it affordable. It won’t cover the entire surgery, but at least it will cover most of it.”
I nod.
“It will still probably hurt a lot financially, but at least I’m in a much better position now than I was when I was here a couple of months ago,” I say.
Thanks to Gage, I think to myself, allowing a daydream about kissing him to run through my mind for a few seconds.
“That’s great to hear. We’ll get you feeling better, ok? Let me do a quick exam again to see where we’re at. I’d like to check if the endometriosis has progressed at all.”
She examines me gently, and then does another ultrasound.
“There is a small lesion that wasn’t there last visit. Keep in mind, this is only what I can see on the ultrasound. A laparoscopic camera during surgery will give me the whole picture, and I can remove the tissue. It’s not the end of the world, but it means the endometriosis has progressed slightly. Has there been any additional stress in your life?”
“Planning the wedding was stressful,” I say. It’s not a lie, I’m still stressing about the situation and these feelings I’m having for Gage.
She nods in understanding.
“I can get you in for surgery in three weeks, is that ok? I have surgical privileges at Princeton-Plainsboro hospital not that far from here.”
Nerves shoot through me at the thought of surgery, but this needs to get done. I have to put on my proverbial big girl panties and deal with this like an adult. Getting rid of this tissue that is causing so much pain will be absolutely worth it.
“Of course. That should give me enough time to make arrangements at work. How long will recovery take?”
“It’s a fairly routine outpatient procedure, so if all goes well you’ll be home after a few hours. Usually a patient can get back to normal activity in about two weeks, although that obviously varies from case to case,” she explains.
I wince.
“I’m not sure they’ll let me take that much time off, or whether I’m able to take medical leave under the FMLA or something. Can I talk to my boss when I leave today and then call you tomorrow to schedule it?”
“You sure can. I’ll leave to let you get dressed and meet you up front, ok?”
“Thanks.”
I get on the phone to my boss Doreen as soon as I leave. We both worked the morning shift today, but I’m not sure if she’s done yet. After two rings, she picks up.
“Didn’t I just see your sorry ass this morning? What’s up?” she asks by way of greeting.
“I missed you, babes, had to call and say hi,” I shoot back.
Ever since the incident with that asshole Harry all those weeks ago, I have grown to fucking adore her. I already appreciated her so much for taking a chance on me, and hiring me in spite of my history. Now I can confidently call her a friend. She’s snarky as hell, and appreciates that I can get just as snarky back. I’ve confided in her a little about my endometriosis, and told her about getting married. She doesn’t know why I got married, but I’ve still been on the receiving end of hilarious advice from her about it all the same. Her husband Luca sounds like a trip and a half.
“In all seriousness, I have to talk to you about a surgery I need to get,” I continue.
“For your endo?”
“Yeah. It’s progressed a little more since I last got checked. The pain sucks, as I’ve so lovingly shared with you already.”
“How long will you need off?” The question is practically barked in her Jersey accent. I know her enough now to know she’s not yelling, it’s just how she talks sometimes.
“Two weeks,” I say in a tone that pleads for her to not fire me.
