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Diary - February 1, 2023

Well, my pre-op testing is done and at least my blood work looks normal. I hate that even though this is a surgery that will take away my biological ability to have children, they still ask the dreaded "any chance of pregnancy?" Of course say "no" politely and smile because my mother raised me to be polite even in the face of something uncomfortable, but I normally get the urge to want to cave in the nurse's face every time I'm asked that question. Sounds violent, I know. Those who have been in this situation can relate though. Its not like I had the normal biological ability to have children anyway and its forcefully being taken away by surgery because I never actually had the ability to have children because it was forcefully taken away over and over again because of rape, but it still sucks to hear the question asked time and time again and not let it feel like someone is stabbing you in the heart each time.

All the forms and legal paperwork has been signed and I'm essentially ready to go next Tuesday. I had a meaningful and educated discussion with my physician that will be performing the surgery, and I have the utmost confidence in her ability. I could not help, however, that with every form I signed that a little piece of my soul got chipped away. I call my husband when I'm on my way home every night from the office and all it took on Monday was for him to pick up the phone and say "hello my love" and I'm sobbing. Hearing his voice always makes me feel better, but unfortunately not this time. I feel like I'm letting him down. He waited so long to find someone to settle down with and have a family, and he's stuck with me. The damaged broken woman that can't give him children. I have no clue why he's still around or why he loves me, but I hope to one day understand it.

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