I had large dermoid cysts in both my ovaries, and had to have laparotomies to remove them (first, at twenty-four – 11 inches in left ovary; second, at thirty-two – 9 inches in right one). I think the first one was missed by my GP almost a year earlier, and by the time they performed emergency surgery a year later (after me being in such excruciating pain, I wanted to die), I was told that if they’d left it any longer, it could have twisted the whole ovary off. The second one was picked up by a very thorough GP, on a routine examination – and afterwards, I was then referred to pelvic ultrasounds every year, just in case.

I suspect these cysts and surgeries did impact on my fertility, and after a relatively late marriage, I wasn’t able to conceive, and eventually went through five (ultimately unsuccessful) rounds of IVF. I’m lucky to have come through the other side with my marriage intact, and (several years down the track of calling it quits) have now made peace with it all. But it’s something rarely spoken about, and can leave unseen scars (as I have hinted at, in my latest poem). It’s also why I now address it more and more, even if mainly through poetry. I’m glad you got your happy ending, and thank you for your bravery, in writing about this issue.