C Is For Cyst

How much does bunny hate being 40? Thhhhhiiiiiissssss much!

I got a call from my lovely ob/gyn (and I do love her; she's swell) yesterday as a follow-up to an ultrasound I had last week. Which was, in itself, a follow-up to an u/s I had back in March. Which was done to determine exactly why my body said, �no� to an IUD.

Back in March, she�d found a smudge. A little cyst on my right ovary. No big deal. A wee fibroid of some sort. The usual kinda girly thing.

This time around, the smudge was still there but, lo! Upon my left ovary she discovered a cyst the size of a silver dollar. Which had not been there in March. Which shouldn�t be there at all because I�m back on the pill. Which is supposed to prevent this kind of thing.

The ob asked about my previous ovarian surgery back in �88: �Did they do a laproscopy or did they open you up?�

�Oh, they opened me up, alright. Even threatened to take out the whole works if need be. The cyst was as large as an orange.�

�And you�re not in pain?�

�No. And I wasn�t then, either.�

�Hmm. Well, I really don�t want to do anything surgically if you�re not in pain. On the other hand, it concerns me.�

Do. Not. Tell. Me. That something in my body concerns you. Please do not say that.

�I think we need to bring you back in in October, do another ultrasound, run a blood test and see where we go from there.�

I�ll tell you where we go: away. Far away. Because I am supposed to still be here in thirty years. I am supposed to see my children grow up. So, we can go all kinds of places but the only c-word I�m willing to discuss is �cyst.�

End of story.

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