Pardon me, what?
Today I met with my new girlie doctor Dr. H, he's a man, but he deals in the girly stuff. His name is Dr. Howard and I still anxiously await him to ask me how I'm doing so I can reply, "Fine, Dr. Howard, Dr. Fine." If you're not a Stooge fan you don't get it and knuk, knuk, knuk.
From what I can discern, and I'm not a doctor, yet, my left ovary, obviously consumed with grief over losing it's lifelong partner Cletis, has swollen to the size of a softball. I quote Dr. H, "My GOD! I wasn't expecting that, your the size of a woman 16 weeks pregnant!" He's a subtle son of a bitch.
Long story short, surgery for a complete hysterectomy, the old fashion way, is scheduled for Wednesday May 9th. I met with Dr. H. today to go over the game rules. I wasn't really concerned and frankly my only question was, "Do they still have the milkshake machine on the 3rd floor, yes? Then I'm ready!"
Dr. H closes his eyes when he talks, that distracts me. Seems like a bad time to be distracted. He was wearing a DNA pattern tie, har har har, show up in a tie with a uterus on it and I'll stand up and applaud.
Dr. H had previously discussed hormones with me, explaining that I will need estrogen, but not two kinds just the one that deals with hot flashes, sweat, goatees and the urge to murder someone, no one in particular, really. This estrogen is natural, made from the urine of a pregnant mare - makes sense right? Will horses follow me? Will I make that noise like when you blow air out of your mouth and relax your lips involuntarily? On the positive side, perhaps my hair will be manely?
We also discussed the recent surge in breast cancer discussion as it relates to estrogen and Dr. H pointed out that breast cancer awareness clouds all other awareness. The Donald once asked for prostrate cancer stamps at the post office - Joan was confused as they had none. I chirped up to Dr. H that women rally better than men at which point he corrected me and said, "It's all marketing, boobs sell." He's right and yet so am I. Win/win, yet we're not ready to fist pump.
Back to the pre-op talk, do this, don't do that, show up, starting Monday, scrambled eggs for breakfast and then all liquids, on Wednesday nothing and by that evening after surgery you can have some crackers. WHAT THE F@CK?? I'll be dead by then! If I wanted to starve, I'd have signed up for Survivor!! Not eat for that long? What is he thinking, did I mention he doesn't look like he's missed a meal in years??!!!
I'll do it, but God help the earth that Sunday. Stay tuned, I'm woofing down Reuben Egg Rolls and Brownies, stockpile baby stockpile!!
From what I can discern, and I'm not a doctor, yet, my left ovary, obviously consumed with grief over losing it's lifelong partner Cletis, has swollen to the size of a softball. I quote Dr. H, "My GOD! I wasn't expecting that, your the size of a woman 16 weeks pregnant!" He's a subtle son of a bitch.
Long story short, surgery for a complete hysterectomy, the old fashion way, is scheduled for Wednesday May 9th. I met with Dr. H. today to go over the game rules. I wasn't really concerned and frankly my only question was, "Do they still have the milkshake machine on the 3rd floor, yes? Then I'm ready!"
Dr. H closes his eyes when he talks, that distracts me. Seems like a bad time to be distracted. He was wearing a DNA pattern tie, har har har, show up in a tie with a uterus on it and I'll stand up and applaud.
Dr. H had previously discussed hormones with me, explaining that I will need estrogen, but not two kinds just the one that deals with hot flashes, sweat, goatees and the urge to murder someone, no one in particular, really. This estrogen is natural, made from the urine of a pregnant mare - makes sense right? Will horses follow me? Will I make that noise like when you blow air out of your mouth and relax your lips involuntarily? On the positive side, perhaps my hair will be manely?
We also discussed the recent surge in breast cancer discussion as it relates to estrogen and Dr. H pointed out that breast cancer awareness clouds all other awareness. The Donald once asked for prostrate cancer stamps at the post office - Joan was confused as they had none. I chirped up to Dr. H that women rally better than men at which point he corrected me and said, "It's all marketing, boobs sell." He's right and yet so am I. Win/win, yet we're not ready to fist pump.
Back to the pre-op talk, do this, don't do that, show up, starting Monday, scrambled eggs for breakfast and then all liquids, on Wednesday nothing and by that evening after surgery you can have some crackers. WHAT THE F@CK?? I'll be dead by then! If I wanted to starve, I'd have signed up for Survivor!! Not eat for that long? What is he thinking, did I mention he doesn't look like he's missed a meal in years??!!!
I'll do it, but God help the earth that Sunday. Stay tuned, I'm woofing down Reuben Egg Rolls and Brownies, stockpile baby stockpile!!
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