Hello, and good evening.
I wish I was writing about the normal mundane crap I usually do, but this seems a bit more important-ish.
Because I do my social media right, I’ve posted on the Book of Face about some health issues I’ve seemed to have unearthed. Thanks to that goddamn Muslim Obama, I was able to receive a preventive care doctor’s visit a few weeks ago, and at this goddamned disgusting doctor’s visit provided to me thanks to that good-for-nothing dark-skinned Democrat, they had the nerve to do a Pap smear on me, which came back abnormal. That led to having a colposcopy done, which is a fancy term for “let us pluck pieces of your fragile innards out with what feels like the claws of Satan himself.”
As you can tell, that wasn’t a very enjoyable procedure.
Ever since then, I’ve been in pain. Not just like “ooh, ouchie!” pain, but like, “sweet Mother of All, what is going on?” pain. Persistent, unrelenting, sharp stabbing pain. I, understandably, kind of freaked out about it and called my doctor who I suspect may have thought I was being a giant wiener, which I kind of thought I was, too, but a few days went by and the pain was still there and not being touched by over-the-counter pain medication, but I wasn’t running a fever or having “foul-smelling discharge” (so, so sorry), so I called again yesterday and was all, “hey, still hurting.”
This is where it gets kind of funny. I was describing the pain to a nurse and she asked me if I was constipated. I kindly explained I may be full of shit, but not that kind of shit. Chuckles all around.
Anyway, I had also been started back on birth control pills after a nearly decade long absence from them–I was horrible at taking them. I have polycystic ovary syndrome, which in short, means cysts grow on my ovaries and prevents normal hormone production and I have two goddamned periods a month because of that. When I started the pills about ten days ago, it was met with some intense cramping and light spotting, which I didn’t really mind a lot because I was due for period number two and not bleeding was great. But after the colposcopy, that’s when I started having severe cramps and a pretty steady, heavy flow. Super…just super. So when I survived the weekend and still didn’t display signs of any infection that might have been caused by the colposcopy, and based on the location of the pain I’m having (left sided), I thought to myself in my super smart medical brain, “what if the pill and the sudden hormones are making all the damn cysts burst?” My doctor must have found some validity in that, because that’s when the ultrasound came to be.
I get to the appointment this afternoon, and have the ultrasound. I get dressed and am sitting in the room when the ultrasound tech comes back with a woman who introduces herself as a doctor who isn’t mine. She then shows me the images from the ultrasound, and basically, with the worst poker face I’ve ever seen, tries to vaguely explain to me there is…something. This “something” is of concern to her and she tells me that if I were her patient, she’d schedule me for surgery without question. Great. Cool. Awesome.
But the bizarre thing is…I’m okay with this.
Let me rephrase: I’m completely terrified, but am also relieved there’s something wrong. I hate the feeling of knowing there’s something not quite right with me, but having people not believe it. At least now, I have cold, hard evidence that my shit is jacked and that accounts for all this pain and other shenanigans I’m going through.
So, this other doctor explains that there’s a very large mass in my uterus, and the best course of action as of now is to have a laparoscopy, which is just an exploratory surgery to take a peek at my lady parts and see what’s happenin’.
The other doctor dropped the “h bomb”: hysterectomy. I perked up at that. But as quickly as the word left her mouth, she tried to rebound by saying, “you may think that you don’t want kids now, but you might in a few years.”
Now, before I go off on this, let me just say that first, I’m glad this woman talked to me. She’s not my doctor, but she took time to try to explain things. That was nice.
And now, the tirade!
I don’t want kids. This isn’t a snap decision I just made. This is several years of thought and careful deliberation. I am not financially stable to support myself, let alone a kid/kids. My family medical history is shit: major depression, heart disease, cancer…that’s like, The Big Three. I do like kids, they’re kind of funny and sometimes really cute and do adorable things, but to have kids based on sometimes entertainment value seems ridiculous. I will not have that “oh man, I wish I had kept my broken uterus around so I can have a baby when I’m 40” thought. I won’t. Nice try, though. I have dealt with funky cycles and unpredictable moods and all this happy bullshit for years now, and I want it taken out. If this doctor can’t see that or tries to convince me otherwise, I’ll take my services elsewhere.
So, that’s the story. I don’t know when the laparoscopy is going to be yet, but I want it done as soon as I can. I need to find some relief soon.
I apologize again for the personal nature of this post; it may seem attention-seeking and “oh, feel sorry for me! Waa!” but that isn’t my intention. I just needed to jot this down as a way to try to help me deal with it, as I often tend to do.
But as always, thanks for reading.