Tag Archives: uterus

Wednesday. And more about my stupid uterus.

Health, ,

In which it’s freaking growing back already.

I tried to go to Sweet Basil Pizzaria for lunch today but they were closed because they’re off having a baby or something. I wandered over to Merchant’s and ordered a sandwich, but they lost my order and I didn’t get it for a long time. I snarfed half of it and put the rest into a go box and walked back to work, where I logged in a minute late back from my break.

I have a box here at my desk containing half a veggie sandwich, some chips, and some potato salad. They also gave me a cookie for my trouble; hopefully it doesn’t have raisins or something equally gross in it.

The bad news is that I apparently possess supernatural powers of healing: I had three normal months after having my uterus scoured out (“normal” in this case meaning a schedule on which one bleeds for a few days, and then does not bleed at all the rest of the time), but now it seems the respite is over and I’m back to spotting all the time. This means my uterine lining is POSSESSED and is REPLICATING AT AN EVIL MAD RATE, A CONDITION THAT IS RIGHTLY TERRIFYING TO NATIONS AROUND THE GLOBE.

Stupid uterus.

The Curse

Blurbs, ,

In which it’s way better this way, but still not ideal.

I think my ability to perceive the glass as half full is actually a character flaw.

I think this because I can slog through a fairly unacceptable life and yet still be convinced that I’m happy, even when I’m patently not. I learned this about myself when I was married: I was terribly unhappy for years without realizing it. Even developed a panic disorder, that’s how deep in denial I was about not getting my needs met…

But that’s a whole other post. I’m probably not, in point of actual fact, living a life that is unacceptable: it’s probably just PMS.

I love not bleeding for 29 days out of every 30. It’s awesome. It’s fantastic. I’m frantic with joy that I no longer have to fear my life is leaking out of my uterus. (Rollerball ablation has been very, very good to me.) But. I still get evil, wicked PMS and I hate it. Bloating is evil! No one should have her ankle bones disappear every month! Feeling despondent, tired, and quasi-depressed for a third of every month is just plain sucky.

I remember when I was young and bullet-proof I thought women who complained of PMS were just complaining for attention. Now I realize the truth: hormones are hell.

Maybe I’ll luck out and be born male next time. While males may have shorter life spans, at least their reproductive processes are eleventy-hundred times less complicated!