What If
My mother’s health problems began in an innocent, random way. For years my mother had struggled with a weak bladder, and whenever we got together, she’d beg us not to make her laugh because she’d end up peeing in her pants. “You kids, stop!” she’d say, crossing her legs and bouncing up and down. “I’m serious. Stop!” Whenever she’d sneeze, she’d say, “Well, there I go spritzing again.” Her mother, my Grandma Griep, had had the exact same problem, and whether it was childbirth that had weakened the muscles, or simply genetics, my mother could barely walk a few blocks before needing to find a bathroom. Amy and I already showed signs of the same problem. I knew every bathroom in every mall, store, park, running route, and restaurant. We always joked that we all had bladders the size of a walnut.
Amy had started working as support staff at a local hospital, and as a result, she’d become familiar with the various doctors and nurses, and with the procedures there. It was at the hospital that she’d heard about a fairly new and innovative solution to incontinence that involved inserting a mesh sling underneath the bladder to lift it back into its normal position. The mesh sling provided support, like a hammock, so the bladder wouldn’t sag down and cause constant pressure to urinate. The procedure was called an IVS Tunneler TVT. I never figured out what IVS meant, but TVT, I learned, stood for tension-free vaginal tape, the piece of mesh used in the surgery.
Before my mother had the surgery, I’d read mostly positive reports online. IVS was supposed to be a highly effective yet minimally invasive procedure that posed very minor risk of complications. Later, however, after my mother’s death, I found
