My Uterus - an artist's rendition

Apropos to my last post-

As we've consulted with others for a second opinion* re: the retained placenta and issues pertaining to when to operate and whether it's ok to travel, they've seemed a bit befuddled by the lack of images from the hysteroscopy to depict exactly how much placenta is still in my uterus (like are we talking about a small fragment or a full placenta, for example). Naturally the gynecologists are wary of a second-hand description coming from an eye surgeon and his "scientist"** wife . I respect that. Anyhow, thank goodness on the official form for my hospital re-re-admission (aka return to The Slammer), Prof. S. drew this awesome picture of my uterus with his official stamp and John Hancock on it, lest any colleague require a visual depicting exactly what is going on (notice the accuracy of the three fibroids including the third one which is larger, more misshapen, and very accurately obliterated by angry scribbles of retained placental tissue).



* We have nothing against Prof. S, but the situation is not so clear-cut given our grandiose travel plans... "between a rock and a hard place" he said, except he didn't really say exactly that, he used some Hebrew expression which I now forget which means the same thing.

** During the three weeks of the year when she is not having a gynecological or obstetrical emergency.

***

In really sad news, a member of our community is being induced today during her 22nd week, after a recent ultrasound showed the baby had no heartbeat. Today I visited her in the same ward, in the same room, where I gave birth to Aminadav and Naava. I feel so sad for her. I still don't know why such terrible things happen to good people.

It's one month today since I pPROMed and my body abandoned my babies (or at least abandoned Aminadav; oftentimes I believe I was the one to abandon Naava, though logically I know there was no way in hell my doctors were about to agree to attempt to perform a delayed interval delivery). Not one month since I gave birth and death to my two little ones, but one month since that awful ambulance ride in my bedroom slippers through a hazy, gray, cold Jerusalem morning when my world as I knew it came crashing down.