Behind every strong woman, there's another strong woman, trying to do right by her family, probably.
The Friendship Bracelet

That time of the month, when my uterus broke the ultrasound machine.

Although 2014 marks my 11th year of blogging (that's right, I was over-sharing, before over-sharing was cool, baby!), my philosophy regarding writing about life's more sensitive issues (i.e. raising teens) has pretty much remained the same.

I only share the stuff I would feel comfortable talking front of my teens...or when meeting someone...for the first time.

Still, there's something very therapeutic about being able to, literally, write your way into a healthier state of mind, right?

Besides, there's nothing like a good brain vomit to get you moving in the right direction...which is know...far away from all the vomit.

I've even taken to discussing my girlie troubles in the most manly way I know how, in mechanical terms, to help our more squeamish blog visitors feel a little less uncomfortable.

This is not one of those times.

WARNING, FRANK DISCUSSION AHEAD: relating to the female reproductive system, while using proper medical terms, for both internal and external bodily functions, and everything.

I've been dealing with endometriosis for 3 years: I had an endometrial ablation in 2010, which successfully decreased my heavy monthly cycles to the point where I barely experience any bleeding, at all, anymore.

I was then diagnosed with adenomyosis, last year: this is when the edometrial tissue, which normally lines the uterus, thickens and grows into the muscular wall of the uterus.

Long story, short: being a woman sucks wet (and hairy) donkey testicles.

The good news is there are plenty of conservative treatments available for adenomyosis, including: anti-inflammatory medications (been there, done that), and endometrial ablation (ditto).

Then, there is hormone replacement therapy: I'm also turning 50 (but I still look good, dammit!), so the thought of possibly increasing my risks for heart attack, breast cancer or stroke has kept me from choosing this option, thankyoubutnothankyouverymuch.

So, I thought...meh, maybe I'll just tough it out...because the only cure for both diseases is a hysterectomy know...ain't nobody got no time for no hysterectomy, right?!?

"Do I need to take you the hospital?"

However, the pain I felt on New Year's Day was just as bad as the last time I went to the ER with a kidney stone, only different.

Also, my husband, Garth (not his real name) knows me well enough to be able to gauge the severity of almost any situation by simply asking me whether or not I need emergency medical assistance.

Because, I am a wimp.  

Aaaaaand, the emergency room was probably very busy on New Year's Day.

But mostly, because I am a wimp.

"Nah, I'll just take a couple of Ibuprofens and just sleep it off or something."

Now that I'm thinking on it some more, it's funny (not so much "haha" funny, but more like "well, that's just too weird, even for me" funny) how stabbing pain can change "or something" into "holy crap" status, real quick.

"I'm not even bothering to put on a bra, LET'S GO!"

11 hours later, I learned quite a few new and amazingly awesome things about myself, my husband and our relationship:

  • I am much better with knowing when "my body is just NOT working right"
  • But I still hate needles
  • Especially, whenever my husband insists on warning medical professionals that "Lookout, she's a fainter!"
  • And then I don't worry so much about needles
  • Because I'm just too busy trying NOT to faint
  • I can drink two venti-sized cups of barium sulfate, in under 30 minutes, while holding my nose and NOT puke
  • Being able to breath through only one nostril, on a good day, helps (stupid deviated septum)
  • I can make technicians be super-nice, by simply singing "Soft Kitty" during cat scans
  • Which may or may not work with ultrasound technicians
  • Especially, if you break the ultrasound machine, during a transvaginal exam
  • Unless your husband insists it's because "your uterus is just too awesome to be photographed!"
  • Because he's REAL good at making me laugh, especially at the most inappropriate of times
  • Even when it hurts
  • Using the word transvaginal, one more time, just because I like typing it, almost as much as saying it
  • Unless you're that guy, in the gurney in front of me, and we happen to be facing each other, in a very busy hallway
  • Trying to remember to keep from flashing each other
  • And/or others
  • While my husband scrolls through the music library on his phone
  • Asking me what I would like to hear
  • Knowing that he likes to listen to screamo type stuff
  • And I don't
  • Except for Lzzy Hale
  • So I tell him to play the song with the most f-bombs
  • And he does
  • Gosh, but how I adore him AND Halestorm
  • Until the contrast dye they pumped into my i.v. triggers a migraine
  • When I begin to drop f-bombs, like a boss

Along with 6 more new additions to my "words I hate most" list:

"Your test results came back unremarkable."

Which, as it turns out, really sounds more like:

"Meh, there is no reason for your pain."

Especially, when you're throwing up a boss...good thing Garth (not his real name) has very little patience for my being so gosh-darned literal, all the time.

"That's NOT what they said!"

The tests ruled out anything major or new (THANK GAWD!!!) other than a small cyst on both ovaries and the wicked abdominal pain I am experiencing is most likely due to the adenomyosis.

The bitch.

Even longer story, short (seriously, I am holding back BIG TIME ova here): I have a follow-up appointment with my OBGYN on Wednesday (one of her partners visited with me in the ER, the lucky devil!), when we begin to know...when we start to talk about...uhhhhhhh...I just can't...WAIT!!!...I know.

[clears throat]

Since the firing of the exhaust tip did not seem to alleviate the problem with the breach in the combustion chamber and carbon build up on the outside of the engine wall, a complete removal of the crank shaft and/or power wash of the engine is highly recommended, by my mom mechanic, at this point in time.


In the meantime, when was the last time you had your combustion chamber checked?!?

[sound of crickets, stridulating]

Stupid endometriosis, dumbass adenomyosis.

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