What separates us from men -- the ability to bear children (among other things, I suppose). And it's those parts of our body that create life, bring us our miracles, that betray us.
After a couple of months of poking and prodding and worrying and inventing, I have my answer; I have to have a hysterectomy. After the initial visit with a new gynocologist and after his adamant response to my visit, he said my pain is "not gynocological." His words. So four doctors later and every procedure done, I return to another new gynocologist who, after hearing my history, says, "You should have a hysterectomy."
But I thought it wasn't gynocological? (insert searing sarcasm here).
For what it's worth, I knew it was, but who will listen to me? It's just MY body, right?
So is that why I had a moment of wanting to break down in the office ... why my blood pressure was too high to leave?
Am I more scared of surgery or the idea of what it all means?
Still thinking about that one ... but it could be so much worse, and I know that.
To be continued ...
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