When Part 1 of 2 Turns Out to Have a 3

I thought I'd only have to be brave for 2 more tests, then get to wave "buh-bye" to all of the medical and emotional bullshit Dr. J and I have been coping with. Turns out Part 1 is necessitating there to be a Part 3 (i.e. surgery). I'd shake my head and say "unbelievable," but then again this is my completely phucked up reality, so it's just par for the course (and I don't mean Oakmont).

So I had the SonoHSG test yesterday morning. They first take measurements of your uterus (with the transvaginal ultrasound wand -- like inserting a big curling iron in your tutu, hee hee), then doctor inserts speculum, then threads catheter through cervix and into uterus. Then saline is injected through catheter into uterus. Speculum pulled out, transvaginal wand reinserted, and ultrasound photos taken and displayed on monitor. Mmmm, yummy, eh?! LOL!

Wasn't as bad as I thought it would be (yes, I am still worked up over last year's full-fledged HSG test) . Granted, I popped a percocet about 90 minutes prior. Thank you, Dr. J.

However . . . they did find a 6 mm polyp in my uterus. RE does not think it's cancer -- his exact words, but it needs to come out. He is much more concerned about it causing or contributing to m/c's. RE says I can wait until August to have out, if I want to (I do -- I need a break in July, and some peace). And that my regular OB/Gyn will do surgery, under anethesia, at a hospital.

I think that I have gotten so freakin' used to bad news that my reactions to things are so flat and inappropriate it borders on insane. For example, when the doctor showed my the polyp on the screen and said I needed surgery, the following 3 things were the FIRST that I thought of:

1. Huh . . . I wonder how much a polyp weighs? Will I be lighter after it's out?
2. Phuck, I am gonna have to skip a few gym workouts due to phucking surgical recovery time. Dammit.
3. Hmmm, if it's cancer, I need to hide it from our adoption caseworker.

I still am having to have the endometrial biopsy next Tuesday. THAT is the hellish painful one (in RE's words). Two percocet that morning, for sure.

I am SO not looking forward to sharing all of this with Big Bill when he comes over for brunch on Sunday. He will not hear a thing after "cancer" (though it's unlikely, and I truly don't think it is). He'll turn green, then start rocking back and forth in his chair -- his drill, when he gets nervous about medical stuff with one of his kids, his sister, or niece. I like that he worries, though?! Makes me feel better, somehow, like someone is caring for me.

Good gawd, I am sooooo sick of all of this. I'd throw in the towel and flip off all of these people who insist on being up my wazoo if I could erase all doubts about cancer (and that's for Big Bill's sake, not my own).

I NEED A CALGON MOMENT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!