I’m going to be honest and say I’m not surprised. I knew this would happen. I knew it well enough that I actually pestered my doctors for a surgery to nip it in the bud. But, noooo, they wanted to “monitor” things. Given my medical history and the pain I was having, you’d think they’d get on it and maybe fucking listen to me, but I think Cleveland Clinic has so many directives when it comes to women and their lady parts that things are put in place to not be sued more than anything. Maybe listen to a patient? What? No let’s do more tests and monitor things. Yeah, I can tell you how that went.
After many tests, they confirmed what I already knew and complained about. I have a cystic mass growing out of one of my ovaries UPDATE: It’s a mass that’s not connected to my lady bits, in fact, it’s not near them at all. It’s the size of a baseball now, and no one can figure out what it is. It grew large and fast enough that I feel like I’m carrying a demon baby that’s punching me from the inside (in my case if it were a real baby it is a Norse-Ukie vampire baby who was immaculately conceived, and therefore, your new Dark Lord). I’m told it is “most likely benign” but remember what happened last time I was told that?
Now, and only now, am I finally getting the surgery I wanted: everything is getting removed. It’ll be gross and uncomfortable, but the benefits will be excellent once it is done. I feel like a pro at this rate with my medical stuff the last 3 years — this is kid’s stuff to me, now. Hook those IVs up to my arms, knock me out, and cut me open. I don’t care anymore! Let’s do this!
I’ve complained about it before, but thankfully the recovery time I’m looking at is 2-3 weeks. Unlike the recovery that took several months when the leg was butchered, this time, I have a Kindle Fire and my cats are grown enough they aren’t being spastic kittens. I guess I should have kept my walker, though. Oops. Still, as much as I feel like I can do this easily, it’s a bitch because I’m actually quite busy and don’t have the time to take to my bed post-surgery. So I’m pushing to have this done in late February. I know everyone likes to complain and pretend they are oh-so busy, but I’ve got enough going on right now with deadlines; and you know it’s serious if I’m willing to put up with this discomfort for another month! UPDATE: It’s getting out ASAP and I’ve acquired a few new oncologists on the process.
Of course, now it’s a new year, I get to pay an even higher deductible (thanks Obama) than ever before, and my medical debts are going to follow me forever it feels like. That’s with insurance. The irony is if my income was less, I’d actually get out of this unscathed. It doesn’t pay to be middle class in America.
I’m still going on my husband’s book tour and I’m still going to L.A. to be a bridesmaid for my dear friend’s wedding. Last time I didn’t do something because I didn’t have the money, I got leg cancer anyways, and the odds of it coming back are pretty high. I’ll probably have more organs removed in the future, who knows, so I’m screwed no matter what.
I’m not one of these people who ask for donations. All I ask is maybe if it’s your style, buy a painting, or a print, or my husband’s novel; at least you get something out of it.
Arty Farty 