Polyp of Passion!
How am I tonight? I can sum it up with these six words: Worried, pensive, anxious and craving cheese.
It’s the night before my surgery to remove my loitering uterine polyp, Jackson Polyp and I don’t know what I’m more upset about: the surgery itself or that I have to wake up at 5am. My sleep is very precious to me… but so is my uterus so what can you do.
I went to the doctor’s yesterday to go over the details and I must say, respectfully, I could have done without that visit. He used words like, “Pull”, “Scrape”, “Cut” and one word that particularly stood out; “Burn”. That’s all I need – a fire in my loins. If this were a romance novel, I’d be ok with that but unfortunately for all of us, it’s not.
If it were though, I’d call it, “Polyp of Passion”. Could you imagine the cover??? Oy.
The doctor also mentioned that I need to get there extra early as I will be meeting a team of people; nurses, anesthesiologists, etc. I can’t think of a worse hour to have a “medical speed dating”. I hope I can form coherent sentences at that time of the morning. It IS an important event where I should communicate well. Otherwise, all my conversations might sound like this:
NURSE: Do you have intercourse regularly?
ME: Zzzzzz. Huh?
NURSE: Do you have intercourse?
ME: (rubbing my eyes) What?
NURSE: INTERCOURSE? DO YOU HAVE INTERCOURSE?
ME: No, I have Blue Cross...
The truth is as nervous as I am about the surgery, I’m more nervous about AFTER the surgery. I don’t mean the recovery part. I mean the “working towards getting pregnant” part. What if Mr. Jackson Polyp hasn’t been the hold up? What if he’s just another plot twist in my attempt to have a child? What if this not the beginning of the end but the end of the beginning?
Dear God… now I’m quoting Winston Churchill.
If I’m being REALLY truthful (and I always am on my blog), I’ll also admit that a part of me is going to miss Jackson Polyp. I’ve given him the best personality. I imagine him as this friendly, well-intentioned polyp that had just been crashing in my uterus for awhile while he figured out what he wanted to do with his life. Yes, he’s a lazy polyp that mooches off of others but let’s face it: he’s the only thing that has grown in my uterus, so I’ve grown attached to him… both literally and figuratively.
However, the time has come for this chapter to end and for the new one to begin. I just don’t know what the hell is IN the next chapter and that’s the scary part. I’m not writing this book. I’m living it and if the author doesn’t give me a happy ending… well… that’s the thing. I have no threat as there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s either going to work out or it’s not. The ending I suppose is how I choose to deal with it all.
And that’s what brings me to my dinner choice tonight: Macaroni and Cheese. Yes damn it – comfort food. When all else fails and I’ve pulled out every cheer up trick in the book, I fall back on what my mom used to make me when I was feeling down. If mounds of cheese can’t ease my fears, nothing will.
Tomorrow night, July 8th, I’m asking everyone I know to indulge in one (or more) things that make you happy that you have either denied yourself or that you don’t get to do very often. It’s my little going away party for Jackson Polyp, but instead of having you over for appetizers, cocktails and party hats, it seemed nicer that everyone got to do something that made them feel better in the privacy of their own homes.
Buy a balloon, listen to that ABBA song you don’t like to admit you like, have a little caffeine, put on your favorite t-shirt, or have a piece of cheese with me. Even though we don't know what the next chapter holds for any of us, let's say "F*ck it all!" on July 8th at 7pm and indulge. If you won't do it for me or yourself, doing it for Jackson Polyp!
It’s the night before my surgery to remove my loitering uterine polyp, Jackson Polyp and I don’t know what I’m more upset about: the surgery itself or that I have to wake up at 5am. My sleep is very precious to me… but so is my uterus so what can you do.
I went to the doctor’s yesterday to go over the details and I must say, respectfully, I could have done without that visit. He used words like, “Pull”, “Scrape”, “Cut” and one word that particularly stood out; “Burn”. That’s all I need – a fire in my loins. If this were a romance novel, I’d be ok with that but unfortunately for all of us, it’s not.
If it were though, I’d call it, “Polyp of Passion”. Could you imagine the cover??? Oy.
The doctor also mentioned that I need to get there extra early as I will be meeting a team of people; nurses, anesthesiologists, etc. I can’t think of a worse hour to have a “medical speed dating”. I hope I can form coherent sentences at that time of the morning. It IS an important event where I should communicate well. Otherwise, all my conversations might sound like this:
NURSE: Do you have intercourse regularly?
ME: Zzzzzz. Huh?
NURSE: Do you have intercourse?
ME: (rubbing my eyes) What?
NURSE: INTERCOURSE? DO YOU HAVE INTERCOURSE?
ME: No, I have Blue Cross...
The truth is as nervous as I am about the surgery, I’m more nervous about AFTER the surgery. I don’t mean the recovery part. I mean the “working towards getting pregnant” part. What if Mr. Jackson Polyp hasn’t been the hold up? What if he’s just another plot twist in my attempt to have a child? What if this not the beginning of the end but the end of the beginning?
Dear God… now I’m quoting Winston Churchill.
If I’m being REALLY truthful (and I always am on my blog), I’ll also admit that a part of me is going to miss Jackson Polyp. I’ve given him the best personality. I imagine him as this friendly, well-intentioned polyp that had just been crashing in my uterus for awhile while he figured out what he wanted to do with his life. Yes, he’s a lazy polyp that mooches off of others but let’s face it: he’s the only thing that has grown in my uterus, so I’ve grown attached to him… both literally and figuratively.
However, the time has come for this chapter to end and for the new one to begin. I just don’t know what the hell is IN the next chapter and that’s the scary part. I’m not writing this book. I’m living it and if the author doesn’t give me a happy ending… well… that’s the thing. I have no threat as there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s either going to work out or it’s not. The ending I suppose is how I choose to deal with it all.
And that’s what brings me to my dinner choice tonight: Macaroni and Cheese. Yes damn it – comfort food. When all else fails and I’ve pulled out every cheer up trick in the book, I fall back on what my mom used to make me when I was feeling down. If mounds of cheese can’t ease my fears, nothing will.
Tomorrow night, July 8th, I’m asking everyone I know to indulge in one (or more) things that make you happy that you have either denied yourself or that you don’t get to do very often. It’s my little going away party for Jackson Polyp, but instead of having you over for appetizers, cocktails and party hats, it seemed nicer that everyone got to do something that made them feel better in the privacy of their own homes.
Buy a balloon, listen to that ABBA song you don’t like to admit you like, have a little caffeine, put on your favorite t-shirt, or have a piece of cheese with me. Even though we don't know what the next chapter holds for any of us, let's say "F*ck it all!" on July 8th at 7pm and indulge. If you won't do it for me or yourself, doing it for Jackson Polyp!
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