December 26

It took nearly two weeks to get the bladder study results all the way (as in, 100 yards) to the doctor's office.  Finally, I was able to talk with the surgery scheduler today.  My doctor is available before December 18 or on January 7.  In order to finish up the semester and actually post final grades, I cannot have surgery before December 20.  However, January 7 puts me a little too close to the beginning of the spring semester, and I really want to minimize how much time I have to take off and make arrangements for other people to do my work.

It occurred to me to ask if there was another doctor in the practice who could do the surgery.  I've been a patient there for only 6 months, and although I like my doctor, I don't feel particularly attached to her.  So, I asked if it would be acceptable to ask if there was another doctor in the practice who could perform the surgery; if not, January 7 would have been acceptable.  I was very happy that there is, indeed, someone who can do it--on December 26.  This is perfect.  It lets me get through finals, have some Christmas, and then have an entire month before the semester begins.  I'm a bit creeped out by the fact that this will be the first male gynecologist I've had since, oh, 1991, but I'm so very happy to now know when I'm having my surgery.

words that should never be written (so I'm repeating them here)

Perhaps I have a slightly morbid curiosity. I used to have a job stuffing dead birds, and my co-workers and I would play with the eyeballs and dissect the guts. After the twins were born, I was thrilled to be able to look at the placenta, which was really two placentas that had fused together. Two years ago, I was so thrilled with the pictures from the inside of my uterus that I tried to show them to all my friends and I'm still trying to figure out how I can display them. (They're absolutely beautiful.) And I was disappointed when my doctor said that I would not be able to see my own uterus after the surgery, although she did say she would take a picture of it for me.

So I went online to find a video of a hysterectomy being performed. The images were not particularly disturbing. However, the instructional video had words superimposed over the image--things like "Incise the peritoneal reflection" and "Clamp across the uterine vessels."

I discovered that I do actually have a limit when I saw these words: "Enter the vagina with a scalpel."

I have now heard everything

In all my gynecology-related web surfing, I still discover that I can be surprised.  I just now learned of a procedure called "g-spot enhancement."  http://www.bodynew.com/procs/vaginal/gspot/  I wonder what else I'm in the dark about gynecologically?

I got the blues in my belly

I was listening to a blues cd this morning, and one song started out with lyrics that really kicked me in the gut: "I got the blues in my belly, where there used to be some heat." It was one of those moments when a song really spoke to my soul. Obviously, I've been thinking a lot lately about the yet-to-be-scheduled hysterectomy, and I've been in a kind of mourning for my womb. This organ that was the source of so much joy in my life is now the source of sadness. So these words really got to me and made me think about how real and on-target the blues can be.

Turns out I was wrong, that I misheard it. The correct lyrics are "I got the blues in my bedroom, where there used to be some heat." Bummer. That's a totally different subject. I like my version better

faint with dignity

I did not die of embarrassment.  I did, however, faint from feeling of the catheter inserted.  After that, I forgot to worry about everything else and lay there, exposed to all the medical folks, munching on my post-fainting saltines and sipping on my apple juice through a bendy straw.  They got the information they needed about my bladder, and I spent all evening curled up in bed, too wiped out to even watch tv or read or be on the computer.

there is such a thing as too much information

After the last pregnancy, my bladder stopped being all it could be.  When the doctor and I were talking about the hysterectomy, I said, "Say, while you're in the neighborhood, is there anything you can do about my bladder?"  So now I have to have a bladder study done tomorrow.  With all the other medical procedures I've had during the past couple years, I've found it very helpful to go online and read the detailed information so I know what to expect.  I really don't like to be surprised.

Big mistake in this case.  I read about catheters, probes, urinating in front of people, and, depending on what they find, the possibility of having a monitor inserted into the rectum while having the clitoris pinched.  (Seriously--what does that tell anyone about the bladder??!!!)  I was dreading the test anyway, because having a too-full bladder is one of the things that typically triggers several days of discomfort and pain, but I may just die of embarrassment first before the pain ever kicks in.

Once the test results are sent to the doctor, she'll be able to figure out what she needs to do once she's inside and can estimate the length of time for the surgery--and that needs to be done before we can schedule anything.  After tomorrow, I don't think I'll ever be the same.

evening at the college fair

One of the things I get to do in my life as a woman is be a mom.  Currently, I am mom to three teenagers.  Several weeks ago, I took my high school junior to a college fair.  Then I came home and wrote a play about our evening.

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Act I: Before dinner



Mom: Matt, we're going to a college fair tonight.

Matt: Mom, you have got to stop forcing me to do stuff! (scowl)

Mom: Maybe you'll get some ideas about what the possibilities are. And I'll buy you a soda on the way home.

Matt: I don't know what I want to do. I have no idea what I want to do or what kind of school I want to go to. Since you're making such a big deal out of it, I'll go, but we have to leave by 7:15.

Act II: At the College Fair

Mom: Fine. You come with me and we'll pick things up from as many tables as we can.

Matt: Fine. But I'm not interested in any of these places. I don't want to have to talk to anyone. There are too many people at that table. It's too crowded. And there's hardly anyone at that table. Must be a stupid school.

Mom: Just come with me. I'll do all the talking and will try not to refer to you at all.

Matt: You've already been to, like, 10 tables. Can we go yet?

Mom: You pick three more schools and get the information, and then we'll leave and get the soda I bribed you with to come tonight.

Matt: Can't you pick them? I don't know where I want to go. And I don't know where I don't want to go, either, so I don't know why you're telling me to pick stuff from a place I don't want to go. What a dumb idea.


Act III: Later, on the way home

Matt: I think I'd like to major in computer sciences, not in the digital arts stuff like they have at Parkside but definitely something like what Mr. M------- does. I think maybe Stout or Michigan Tech. What kind of grades do I need? Do you think I'll do okay on my ACT? Hey, I already have some AP credits, don't I? I don't want to be somewhere with huge classes, but I don't want classes so small that all the teachers think they know me. I want a little bit of anonymity. Hey, I get all that stuff in your bag, right? I figured, hey, Mom's picking it up, so I won't be wasteful and get my own copy. Do you think we could get stuff like this from more schools?

Mom: Thanks for going along.

Matt: Mom, stop talking. I'm trying to tell you what I want to do with my life.


The End





Reviewer's comments: Definitely a thumb's up. The plot took forever to get going, but the hero of the story showed definite growth by the end of the play and I think we may have a good sequel. The Mom character becomes less relevant as the play progresses, but she's written wonderfully and is beautifully played.