I might be hiding Jimmy Hoffa

Yesterday afternoon, I had the best of intentions to eat, go to therapy, workout and watch The Biggest Loser.

Confession: I didn't do that.

Instead, I remembered that I had a follow-up appointment late in the day with my OBGYN to make sure that everything post surgery and post ruptured cysts were okay.

This meant that I was lucky enough to get another visit with the vaginal ultrasound.  I even told the tech when she inserted the ultrasound wand (which, for the record, seems less magical every time it enters me) that I was tired of her finding stuff in there.  And guess what? She found something else.  Seriously, next time?  I wouldn't be surprised to see Jimmy Hoffa's face in there.

Yes, that's right folks, I like to grow things "down there."  It's like my own little science experiment.  This time, it's another large ovarian cyst - only on my right side.

The good news is that I'm not in a lot of pain and now that I know what ruptured cysts feel like, I hope to not worry excessively when it ruptures.  The really good news is that they're not endometriosis cysts.

The thing is?  They're ovulation cysts.  As in, I'm still ovulating.   As in 95% of women on the pill don't ovulate and I'm not one of them.  My eyes got huge when my doctor told me that as Joe and I have recently resumed...ahem...snuggling.  BUT he swears that I'm not likely* to get knocked up while on the pill - something about mucous blah-bedy-blah including lining of the ya-ya sisterhood not allowing that to happen.  I was too busy daydreaming about sex in Sex Ed to while they went through this crap to know what he was talking about.  I blame Matt Grondin and Michael Shannon for being so undeniably dreamy - there is no way anyone in our class concentrated on medical terminology when they looked that cute.

Anyway, I kind of freaked out, but then I called my mom.  Turns out, she also had uterine fibroids and cysts while she was on the pill AND lumpy boobs.  I am under the assumption if she had all that and still managed to get preggo 10 times (yes, that would be 7 miscarriages) that perhaps I am a Fertile Myrtle as well.  Therefore conception is now on the list of "Crap I'm not going to worry about until later."  Just underneath that?  "How to survive 7 miscarriages."

After my vaginal ultrasound and waiting to see my doctor, I ended up being very late in leaving to go to my therapy appointment.  No time to stop and grab something in the drive thru - and besides, I really wasn't hungry - I was worried.  So I just went to the appointment where we talked about my inability to deal with uncertainty well.  Hello, timing...

I finished with my therapist, drove home, and had brown rice with veggies and chicken.  It was good and tasty.  Afterwards I watched The Biggest Loser.

But I didn't exercise.  Tonight?  I plan on exercising - even if just a bit - just so I can get back in the habit of it.  The opportunity to make my body do something - anything - that I want it to has got to feel powerful...especially since it hasn't been listening to me as of late.


*"Not likely," according to him, means that I have a 1% chance of getting pregnant while on the pill.  I groaned aloud when he told me that.  What I wanted to say was, "Seriously, doc.  You've GOT to stop saying that I have a low percentage chance of something happening.  I like to over-achieve.  I like to do things people don't think I can do.  Saying that I'm 'not likely' to have something happen is like you double-dog-daring my lady bits to grow a baby.  Stop it or I swear I'll hide your keys where only your ultrasound tech can find them."