Camille picks up bits and pieces and knows I am going for an appointment today. A sonogram. Having been pregnant 22 times. Yes, twenty two, sixteen children, one stillborn baby Robert, and five miscarriages. So to me, a sono is synonomous ha, SONOmous with babies. With joy. Apart from the one that revealed that little Robert no longer had a heartbeat of course.
Today, it's a different story. An ovarian cyst by itself is not a biggie. Most are fluid-filled and benign. But most don't cause pain. And it's not like the cyst/tumor/growth will hold up a little sign that says, "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you!", or worse. No, it has to be removed to be biopsied. And that little "removal" is what gets me a bit panicky. Because cysts/tumors/growths aren't removed in five star resorts by the ocean.
And of course there's the "c" word. It's a club I have no desire to join. I think of Camille, and Char, and Jon, and Paul...and and and ...and I like it here, on earth. My sister-in-law is going with me to the appointment (heart icon), my brother just called me and asked me to go grocery shopping to like four stores tomorrow morning (heart again), and my sister offered to come with me today but she's not feeling 100% herself, so I told her no:) I have a comfy home here on earth, and am not ready to check out any time soon.
Okay, I am Miss Drama Queen, every single issue isn't a death sentence. But writing about it straightens it out in my mind. And you all can pray for me, and for the tests I am having, that if there is something that needs to be seen and diagnosed, they see it and I get the right help. Thank you:)