Trumpets, strumpets and crumpets
Don’t make me laugh. No, seriously don’t. 48 hours after surgery I’m trying to keep my life as boring as possible. Tricky in this household with my wonderfully comedic husband. And it’s a rare moment when HE says “don’t make me laugh” as he’s been coughing so much his ribs are aching. *Don’t mention coffin – oops*.
I’m just home after the same operation my beloved mum had after my brother was born and now I know how she felt. She said she’d had her tubes tied off so no more babies could come. It was another confusing story for an already confused child when it came to reproduction stories. I’d just got my head round the fact that Mum was fibbing when she said that ladies had babies when the man gave her some milk (listen to the Mumbelievable podcast with David Baddiel for more on that). Now, babies were delivered by underground? And how was I going to go and see Nan and Pop if the tubes were tied off? Perhaps they would only be tied off for a little while, as there were always strikes happening and then everything started running again. Then my little brain worked it through. I knew I couldn’t read the tube station signs at that age, but if I got out and went upstairs I’d recognise the Gray’s Inn Road and could walk to their flat which was bang opposite the tube station. That made as much sense to me as anything Mum told me. She also told me that I would have three children; two girls and a boy. It was something I’d grown up knowing and you don’t question these things when grown-ups tell you, do you? Sadly, babies never happened for me, despite trying. In my case it was all about creating a safe, secure family into which children could be introduced. No plate throwing, arguments, flouncing out, banging doors etc. But it wasn’t until I married my beloved Tony that home life was in the right balance and sadly it was all a bit too late. I didn’t think I’d be feeling emotional about the salpingo oophorectomy (I’ll wait a sec while you Google that) but I find I am. The fallopian tubes and ovaries are gone and even though they never worked properly, it’s a reminder that my natural mothering instincts were never realised. Yes, I took care of my little sister and have always felt the need to protect and look after people, but it’s different.
To distract and cheer myself up without making myself laugh, I wondered the origin of salpingo as it sounded to me like a rather exotic margherita-style cocktail with salt and fizz. No, it comes from the Ancient Greek for trumpet.; TRUMPET! Here comes the egg – fanfare – and it’s entering the womb – parp parp, parpetty parp. Flags and heralds spring to mind. Stop! It hurts and I’ve now got the trumpeting elephants from Fantasia in my mind. Why does my brain do this to me? Remnants of anaesthetic and strong pain killers no doubt.
When I understood more about the reproductive system I asked my Mum why she had her tubes tied and she brushed it away, not wanting to talk about it. And now I think back, she went through a very tough emotional time after my brother’s birth and we’ve always put it down to post-natal depression. Now I’m wondering if the operation brought on early menopause for her which messed up her hormones. I was warned about that myself and almost hugged the nurse to death when she assumed I was approaching menopause rather than having left it behind ten years ago. My poor mum had so much going on emotionally with her mental ill-health, so with this on top of it, she coped as well as she could.
I told my step mum that I was having the operation and now her memory is so short, I was pleased that she’d forgotten about it almost immediately after getting emotional herself and reminding me how sad she was that I’d never had children. Sometimes, seeing someone NOT remembering sad stuff is quite comforting. I feel like I’ve told her the truth and given her the respect of knowing what’s going on, but the pain doesn’t linger for her, as the cat’s toilet habits are equally important. It’s very sad to see her forgetting who people are now, especially her own daughter and my sister is having a horrible time witnessing that. D always tells people that she was lucky having me as a fully fledged daughter as she didn’t have to go through the pain of childbirth. But do you know what? That’s a pain I wished I’d had the chance to witness. But I’m not going to get all emotional as I’m going to toast a crumpet and remember my mum who used to call them strumpet crumpets, although I had no idea what she meant.
