Monday, January 13, 2014


So remember that cyst I had awhile back?

It persisted.

Through November.

It persisted.

Through December.

The pain came and went, went and came. I pretty much refused to take pain medication for it because I didn't want stories written about the suburban pastor's wife who spent her very small life's savings on her drug addiction.

Two days ago it hurt bad enough for me to contemplate taking the drugs. It was like I was 21 again and newly in love with Troy and thinking about him 20 hours a day. Except, in this story, Troy was a prescription for Trama-Dol.

Last night I went to bed in pain and this morning I woke up in pain. I got up, made the boys breakfast which consisted of pouring them bowls of cereal and giving them each two mini donuts because MOM OF THE YEAR, RIGHT HERE. Then, I flopped back in bed and made a very loud moan. The moan said, "Husband, who is still asleep, I am in pain and would very much like to go back to bed. I would very, very much like it if you got up and took the boys to school this morning because I feel like getting back out of bed NOT AT ALL." Except, well, my husband doesn't speak Moan. So then I kind of flopped around in the hopes that he would turn to me and say, "Clearly something is wrong, I love you for being a princess and a diva and why don't you sleep for a good, long while and I'll get those strapping young men of ours off to a day of education." Except my flopping was very passive aggressive and my husband also doesn't speak Passive Aggressive. At a later hour of the morning, he assured me that he would have gladly taken them to school had I simply said, "I don't feel very well. Can you take the boys to school?"

Men. Apparently they want to communicate in plain English.

So I took Garrett to first grade and then I took Matthew to preschool and then I came home and started a load of laundry and then we changed the sheets on our bed and then, sometime a half hour or so later, BAM.

Stabbing pain in the area of my right ovary. This was followed by relatively little pain that made me think, "Huh. Well that was intensely weird."

And then THAT was followed by what can only be described as having a hysterosalpingogram that takes next to forever instead of ten minutes. Thankfully I've had a hysterosalpingogram before so this feeling wasn't altogether new. I don't know for absolute certain that the cyst burst but if it didn't then I just spent my morning having a close brush with death for no good reason. So, I'm sure putting my hope in the former.

Once I was finally able to crawl out of the fetal position and into an upright one, I took the blessed Trama-Dol. It took the edge off the pain and the world was a better place.

I'm still in a little pain and I'm strangely very tired. But I did next to nothing all day--a travesty since we're leaving on Friday for San Diego, working all day Thursday, and I have to pack and clean and do a million and two other things before we go. My husband waited on me.

My favorite part of the day was when he asked me if I needed a bell. You know, so that I could summon him whenever I needed to.

I love that man.

Almost as much as Trama-Dol.

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