Who had Ovarian Cyst - let me see some hands people!!!
When last we visited, I had an appointment today at 1pm at the 'Women's Center' to see why I was having disturbing pain. They wanted me to get there at 12:45 to do paperwork.
At 12:30 I retrieved a voicemail from Cookie or Candi or Dingbat saying, "Hi, it's the Women's Center please call us we need to reschedule your appointment. Thanks!" I was already in the car and called. The doctor was called off to an emergency and the next available appointment was, I shit you not, June 21st. I explained, while laughing, that I was in pain and even though I am Superwoman, June 21st seemed a bit far off. "We'll put you on the cancellation list, but June 21st is the first appointment we have." Oh you can put me on the cancellation list sister, put me on the 'I can't deal with this shit list' Thanks!'
There were phone calls made, pleading, names dropped, nothing. Now I had to make the call to go to the ER or brush it off, as Mom would say. I chose the ER.
I walked in and asked the volunteer where to go to be admitted. Andrew Jackson didn't hear me, "I SAID WHERE DO I GO TO GET ADMITTED TO THE ER???!!!"
Miles Hospital serves the surrounding area and although the population is not large, they are indeed old, this increases their ER frequency. I stepped aside to let a women get in who was taking Cumiden and was feeling dizzy. Later I heard she had breast cancer and now a brain tumor, I started to think, "I have a belly ache and I'm a wuss."
In Room One, I was told to get changed into the Johnnie Gown, tied in the back (phew!). The doctor, let's call him Dr. Mc No-Personality came in and he asked in Marvin Gaye fashion, "What's going on?" I explained, he made the appropriate amount of squinty eye faces and said they'd start by taking blood, doing an exam and figure out what type of scans were needed. Got it, on it.
I got changed, and someone tapped on the door, "Michele Doele!" I looked up - "Hey Nate, thank God I don't have to deal with an armature!"I know Nate going back 10 years, he's a contractor that I've dealt with at work who does amazing houses. He also does ambulance duty and works at the hospital. Nate's sons are taking over his construction business but he still has a hand in it. I wink at the heavens for small town goodness. Cool. Nate taps me up and proceeds to take 5 viles. He asks me what's going on and I explained I feel like a gutted fish and I'm not enjoying it, but I'm not a wuss and am still not sure if I should be there. (wishy washy indeed!!). I explain my list of ailments I think I have to Nate and he's entertained, then another lab type person enters and a nurse. I announce, "Excellent, I wanted a team!!" Now we're all laughing.
Nurse Laura, who was wonderful, comes in and proceeds to introduce pain meds into my IV. I announce, "I drove myself here, I need to be able to drive home and I hate pain medication, unless it's wine and I have a feeling that isn't an option??" She cut off the pain meds halfway because I was starting to freak out - I don't take meds well, wine - by the gallon.
The doctor comes in, very seriously states we need to do an exam, candidly an internal exam. Whatever, I've had two kids, been to countless oil changes, I don't freakin' care. We get through that and he announces that everything seems okay, but an ultra sound is in order. Whatever Dr. Yawn, whatever.
Andy arrives and announces, "I'm Andy and I'm going to be doing your ultrasound." Excellent, let's roll Andy! He's fabulous. We get into the ultrasound room and he proceeds to roll the dealio across my bellyo and explains what he is seeing. "That's your uterus." Me: "Why does it look like a platypus?" Andy: "A what?" Me: "A platypus, don't you see that???" I see him type fib, then click on cyst and a little piece of me does the Tiger Woods pump, because something is there, I'm not a wuss! Andy says, "There is definitely something there. We're going to need to take some internal pictures. "
I cocked my head, sat up and said, "And how are we going to do that Andy?"
"First I'm going to need you to empty your bladder." Me: "But I don't have to pee." Andy: "Your bladder is full of urine,you may not feel it because of the pain meds."
I go into the bathroom and sure enough Andy is right, I have to pee. I come out and say, "You'd think after 41 years I'd know when I have to pee, but Andy, you were right."
I climb back up on the table and Andy says, "We need to get some internal pictures." My head turned like a yellow lab and I said, "How we gonna do that Andy?" and then my eyes grew like saucers as Andy proceeded to apply lube to a giant dildo, yup, a dildo. Then he said and this is just precious, "I'm going to need you to insert this." We held eye contact for a while and I said, "Well, I'll give it a whirl Andy."
Mission accomplished. Andy managed to hone in on a cyst the size of Saturn, Melissa, the chaperon did not see the cartoon objects I saw either, but would she know Yosemite Sam? I don't think so.
My visit was concluded with Dr. Yawn explaining that I had a follow up appointment with a gyno at the Women's Center on June 1st at which point we would discuss, in our Birkenstocks, whether the cyst had a. gone away, 2. ruptured (she'd hear about that before June 1) or iii. the pain had increased. As a bonus, I will explain to her the anguish one feels when told 15 minutes before their appointment that they time needs to be rescheduled. I will also say that I feel for every woman that wears makeup and dyes their hair.
Cecil cyst is up for adoption, takers?
At 12:30 I retrieved a voicemail from Cookie or Candi or Dingbat saying, "Hi, it's the Women's Center please call us we need to reschedule your appointment. Thanks!" I was already in the car and called. The doctor was called off to an emergency and the next available appointment was, I shit you not, June 21st. I explained, while laughing, that I was in pain and even though I am Superwoman, June 21st seemed a bit far off. "We'll put you on the cancellation list, but June 21st is the first appointment we have." Oh you can put me on the cancellation list sister, put me on the 'I can't deal with this shit list' Thanks!'
There were phone calls made, pleading, names dropped, nothing. Now I had to make the call to go to the ER or brush it off, as Mom would say. I chose the ER.
I walked in and asked the volunteer where to go to be admitted. Andrew Jackson didn't hear me, "I SAID WHERE DO I GO TO GET ADMITTED TO THE ER???!!!"
Miles Hospital serves the surrounding area and although the population is not large, they are indeed old, this increases their ER frequency. I stepped aside to let a women get in who was taking Cumiden and was feeling dizzy. Later I heard she had breast cancer and now a brain tumor, I started to think, "I have a belly ache and I'm a wuss."
In Room One, I was told to get changed into the Johnnie Gown, tied in the back (phew!). The doctor, let's call him Dr. Mc No-Personality came in and he asked in Marvin Gaye fashion, "What's going on?" I explained, he made the appropriate amount of squinty eye faces and said they'd start by taking blood, doing an exam and figure out what type of scans were needed. Got it, on it.
I got changed, and someone tapped on the door, "Michele Doele!" I looked up - "Hey Nate, thank God I don't have to deal with an armature!"I know Nate going back 10 years, he's a contractor that I've dealt with at work who does amazing houses. He also does ambulance duty and works at the hospital. Nate's sons are taking over his construction business but he still has a hand in it. I wink at the heavens for small town goodness. Cool. Nate taps me up and proceeds to take 5 viles. He asks me what's going on and I explained I feel like a gutted fish and I'm not enjoying it, but I'm not a wuss and am still not sure if I should be there. (wishy washy indeed!!). I explain my list of ailments I think I have to Nate and he's entertained, then another lab type person enters and a nurse. I announce, "Excellent, I wanted a team!!" Now we're all laughing.
Nurse Laura, who was wonderful, comes in and proceeds to introduce pain meds into my IV. I announce, "I drove myself here, I need to be able to drive home and I hate pain medication, unless it's wine and I have a feeling that isn't an option??" She cut off the pain meds halfway because I was starting to freak out - I don't take meds well, wine - by the gallon.
The doctor comes in, very seriously states we need to do an exam, candidly an internal exam. Whatever, I've had two kids, been to countless oil changes, I don't freakin' care. We get through that and he announces that everything seems okay, but an ultra sound is in order. Whatever Dr. Yawn, whatever.
Andy arrives and announces, "I'm Andy and I'm going to be doing your ultrasound." Excellent, let's roll Andy! He's fabulous. We get into the ultrasound room and he proceeds to roll the dealio across my bellyo and explains what he is seeing. "That's your uterus." Me: "Why does it look like a platypus?" Andy: "A what?" Me: "A platypus, don't you see that???" I see him type fib, then click on cyst and a little piece of me does the Tiger Woods pump, because something is there, I'm not a wuss! Andy says, "There is definitely something there. We're going to need to take some internal pictures. "
I cocked my head, sat up and said, "And how are we going to do that Andy?"
"First I'm going to need you to empty your bladder." Me: "But I don't have to pee." Andy: "Your bladder is full of urine,you may not feel it because of the pain meds."
I go into the bathroom and sure enough Andy is right, I have to pee. I come out and say, "You'd think after 41 years I'd know when I have to pee, but Andy, you were right."
I climb back up on the table and Andy says, "We need to get some internal pictures." My head turned like a yellow lab and I said, "How we gonna do that Andy?" and then my eyes grew like saucers as Andy proceeded to apply lube to a giant dildo, yup, a dildo. Then he said and this is just precious, "I'm going to need you to insert this." We held eye contact for a while and I said, "Well, I'll give it a whirl Andy."
Mission accomplished. Andy managed to hone in on a cyst the size of Saturn, Melissa, the chaperon did not see the cartoon objects I saw either, but would she know Yosemite Sam? I don't think so.
My visit was concluded with Dr. Yawn explaining that I had a follow up appointment with a gyno at the Women's Center on June 1st at which point we would discuss, in our Birkenstocks, whether the cyst had a. gone away, 2. ruptured (she'd hear about that before June 1) or iii. the pain had increased. As a bonus, I will explain to her the anguish one feels when told 15 minutes before their appointment that they time needs to be rescheduled. I will also say that I feel for every woman that wears makeup and dyes their hair.
Cecil cyst is up for adoption, takers?
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