Is it one testicle for a man? One kidney for anyone? One leg? One eye? For some, maybe. For me? Well … read on.

While waiting in the Duke University Medical Center last Thursday, Feb 2nd, I had plenty of time to think about my pending surgery. The only definitive answer I had was whether or not BOTH my ovaries would be removed.

The right one already had its death sentence because of what was attached to it.

All docs said ‘let’s get it out.’

So, it was taken.

Luckily, the other one DID stay. There only reason it would have gone is if the grapefruit-sized cyst on my right one were cancerous and all signs pointed to no! So the left one stayed.

And of course, that got me thinking.

What is the equivalent to someone having only half their reproductive system? For some women, I’m sure this situation would come with an enormous amount of stress. Can I have more kids? (Yes, because I have another ovary). To those who are desperate for children, I imagine this would, in fact, feel like losing some key part of their body — like an arm. Because what happens if the other one has to go? That’s it. The end.

That was not a concern for me because I vowed to have all my kids by the time I hit 30. And I did. In super-fashion by spending 3 years ‘trying’, giving up at 29 and at 30, being pregnant and delivering twins without a bit of fertility-drug assistance.

So, for me, does it do anything at all? Do I really wonder what this does to me? Actually … I do!

I’m now lopsided (technically). I feel like I am lopsided. 🙂 I’m not though. I can look at my stomach and wonder what they took out, but I can’t see it. There is no difference in the right side of my body from my left. None … I even have laparoscopic incisions healing on both sides.

So, am I different?

I am.

I have one ovary. I had a part of my body cut out to ensure I have more time to live my human life, to spend with my kids and live with my family. For the last eight days, I’ve been healing, I’ve moved at the pace of a snail (which really means I now move at the pace of the rest of my family) and I’ve thought about the fact that I have only one-half of one major part of a female body.

One ovary is plenty to produce kids (not that I want any more to add to my three-peat, team.)

And … yeah … one testicle is enough to make that happen. 😉

But I’d guess, if I asked a man if they were ‘the same’, he’d disagree wholeheartedly. Don’t you think? 🙂

And now for my PSA (Public Service Announcement):

Ladies (and men for that matter). Listen to your bodies. I’m a hugely lucky statistic with a cyst that is so far being recorded as nothing but a cyst (non-cancerous). It took 6 months from the latest ‘issue’ I had with my water-bubble-on-my-girly-parts to the time I had it removed, with LOADS of tests, watching, waiting, second opinions and the decision to do surgery. I took control of my health and asked LOADS and LOADS of questions. I researched and found out all sorts of stuff about my family history. I have learned my grandmother died of pancreatic cancer 30 years ago. I have refound family I haven’t talked to in ages, through Facebook and I have asked for more prayers and gotten then from friends and family in a way I haven’t ‘felt’ in ages, but should have known everyone would be there. And Duke Medical Center in Durham, NC and my doctor totally rock. I can’t thank them enough. So please … if you feel ‘weirdness’ … listen to what your body is telling you and get it checked out. It’s better to be safe than sorry.

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