March kicked off with us moving into The FamBily House for two weeks while The Parentals were in the USofA on vacation. Somebody had to cat-sit, and house-sit, and Dibble-sit. We were 'somebody'. It worked out really nicely. Buzz had a blast and was quite unhappy when the day rolled around that we actually moved back into our apartment.
The third week of March basically revolved around a crazy number of doctor appointments and pelvic ultrasounds. Apparently ovaries aren't supposed to grow 9cm complex cysts in them. Clearly, my ovary didn't get the all important memo.
And that's how it came to pass that last Thursday I spent a day and a night in the women's ward of Shaare Zedek Medical Center. "Laparoscopic surgery is a breeze." they said. "You'll be up and about in a day or two." they said. "You wont even now we did anything to you, because it's a 'procedure' NOT 'surgery'..." they said.
'They' should be shot. Repeatedly. In soft fleshy areas of their anatomy that don't result in death - just pain. So so so so so much pain. That is what 'they' deserve.
I honestly don't care that I had a 9cm complex cyst with a super thin membrane growing on my ovary. It was there but it wasn't causing any problems. I went from feeling (my version) of decent to being cut open, sore, and suffering from literally being pumped full of gas so that surgeon would have room to move the tool around inside my abdominal cavity. Sound pleasant? Yeah, it's not.
72 hours ago I arrived at the hospital, nervous but feeling fine. Now I'm stuck sitting on the couch in one position because moving causes more pain than I can type about without crying.
Simply put, this sucks.
Oh right, and I didn't even make Buzz a birthday cake.
And Pesach is in 19 days.