Posted By Marti on January 8, 2013
Hey there! We survived the Mayan Apocalypse – hooray! Plus most of you made it through the holidays unscathed, and I know there are a few of you who would sooner face an asteroid than be forced to spend the holidays with the drunk uncle who always wants to sit a little too close on the couch and the cousin who spouts political rants at the dinner table.
So here we are in 2013. I hope it’s been great for you so far! For me…not so much.
I am bleeding.
We are not talking about the paper-cut-that-just-needs-a-bandaid, or the low-humidity-makes-your-tissue-a-little-pink-when-you-blow-your-nose kind of bleeding. Not that having bodily fluid pouring out of you is ever good, but this is bad, an-alien-is-busting-out-of-your-body bad. Which sounds a lot like birth, and is kind of what I am talking about.
I am way past child-bearing age, and have not had to deal with periods for over a decade. So waking up and discovering massive blood loss from my hoo-ha was, to say the least, an unpleasant surprise. (Just lost several male readers with the mention of menstruation – sorry.)
I discussed the situation calmly with my family, “OH #*&@! I’M DYING!” and we decided I should get it checked out. I am one of those uninsured slackers who does nothing but spend her life taking care of disabled family members for no pay, which means I do not have a doctor or health coverage, so over the river and through the woods to the emergency room we went.
Seven hours later, I had learned a few things:
Being in the ER when the power goes out in the entire neighborhood is an interesting experience. Especially right after hearing one of your fellow waitees recount that their last visit to the ER was for when they went off their meds and tried to juggle knives at the mall – naked. Everything went dark, then the backup generator came on and a few (very few) lights came on. I sat in the totally black waiting room, clutching my purse to my chest as I watched cell phones light up around the room. I later learned that it was a city-wide blackout. I also learned that when the power comes back on, every heart monitor, blood pressure cuff and IV regulator will have lost its tiny electronic mind and will beep and blare insanely until someone comes and lays the smackdown on it. It got real noisy in there. Like a herd of R2D2 robots on speed.
I learned that I have a polyp. Wow, that is an ugly word, isn’t it? Appropriate I guess, as they are ugly tissue growths. Mine, I was told, is the size, shape and color of a large red grape. Now I will never be able to eat red grapes again (and may have ruined them for you too, sorry again).
I also learned they now have a warmer built into the ultrasound machine for the lubricating jelly they spread on your abdomen. At least they have a warmer for the exterior one. The trans-vaginal one, sadly does not, and will wake a person right up.
Lastly, I learned that my uterus is full. At going-on-sixty, my uterus should have nothing but cobwebs in it. But mine is plump with gunk. Icky gunk that may be cancerous. The doctor called it “extreme endometrium.” I don’t want to be extreme. I want to be as un-extreme as un can be. So today, I had biopsies done. Biopsy is another ugly word, I don’t like the sound of it at all and the procedure itself was quite horrid. I won’t know the results for ten days.
Ten days. Ten long days to think positive thoughts, remain ridiculously optimistic and let all of you know how much I cherish your readership. Thank you.
I’d appreciate hearing from you in the comments below. Tell me it’s all going to be OK. Tell me you’re saying a little prayer, even if you’re an atheist or a Druid. Make me believe that I don’t have cancer, that chocolate isn’t fattening and Chihuahuas aren’t vicious little killers.
And let’s all see 2014 in, together. Happy New Year!
Photo Credit: Bleeding Finger
Used under creative commons