So, had to have an ultrasound, and what a joy that was, let me tell you. First off, said procedure involves drinking fluids and NOT PEEING FOR HOURS. They say drink, oh, ELEVENTY-TWELVE OUNCES of water, and then go to the appointment, and, you know, just HOLD IT, since this is the SAME TEST USED ON PREGNANT LADIES. WITH BLADDERS THE SIZE OF THIMBLES. Anyhow, this time, I learned, and just had a cup of coffee, and proceeded as usual, figuring, hell, they wouldn't notice that I was flagrantly disregarding their rules. I was correct. So let this be a lesson: coffee fixes everything.
Anyhow, I proceeded to the appointment, whereby they where searching for our pals, the Rice Cysties, the harbringers of pain and doom. Said pals are small, and usually to be found on the right ovary. Which, as far as I know, is located in my abdominal cavity. Somewhere nearish to my uterus. Or something.
Everything was going according to plan, my belly beginning to itch dramatically from the ultrasound fluid (note to self: HOW IN HELL CAN YOU BE ALLERGIC TO AN HYPOALLEGENIC GEL?), and as I'm talking to the tech about my issues, she notes that my ovary appears to be rather small. Well yes, part of it was peeled off in a surgery, removing a prior Cystie, but hey, there should be THREE MORE THERE.
The radiologist then enters the room, and looks at the images, and announces, that NO, THAT IS NOT MAH OVARY. Okay. What is it then? A ghost? She then asks me if I know where my ovary is. Dude. Really? I mean, yes, I've had a few anatomy classes, but this is a pretty small organ, and I'm retroverted, so mine's not exactly in the normal placement, and it's a little smaller than average. So no, I can't just POINT TO IT FOR YOU. And HELLO, YOU ARE THE ONE WITH THE HOITY-TOITY DEGREE.
My confidence rapidly falling, she then states that maybe I don't have a right ovary at all. Hmmm. 6 months ago I had one. Did I somehow lose it? Did I leave it in the car last week? Or in the office? Did something EAT IT? I don't know. Then she claims to see a fallopian tube. Yeah...those were sort of burnt out, in a surgery, last I was told. So what are we seeing, exactly?
At the end of this, she tells me I have no Cysties....but riddle me this, Batman: IF YOU COULDN'T FIND MY DAMN OVARY, HOW DO WE KNOW THERE AREN'T ANY CYSTIES?
To be honest, I'm a bit perplexed. And ironies of ironies, it's acting up today, and I think I actually could point to it this morning, hahaha.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment