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Archive for January, 2011

Posted by Gin on January 29, 2011

I begin this post perched uncomfortably on my couch, hoping that this is the last time I write to bitch about yet another surgical procedure related to my ladybits without the added benefit of having had a live, human baby removed from my abdomen. One can dream! Also, yes, I am on some drugs.

This morning I went in and had barnacles scraped from endometrial tissue excised from my ovaries, which was just about as much fun as you might imagine. Yay! I have three small incisions across my stomach – ovary, navel, ovary – and the nurse’s warning, as I was going under, that I would “wake up feeling like I’d done a bunch of crunches” was woefully inaccurate. I think “kicked repeatedly in the uterus by a drunken cowboy with pointy boots on” juuuuuuust about conveys the level of OH HOLY SHIT I feel whenever I,  oh, try to roll over in bed, or sit down to pee, or on the couch, or cough (JESUS, to cough). I walk around the house in tiny, old lady steps, clutching my abdomen gingerly as though my intestines might fall out if I don’t. I have a feeling that this will likely be 1/10th of what I should feel post C-section, which I’m told will/should be in my, um, near-distant future.

Side note: Dear Kitten George, I see you over there making sad eyes at me, wanting me to walk over there and open the window for you so your chickenshit self can watch the birds that you are too scared of to actually chase in real life, when you decide you are brave enough to go outside (under cover of night, and only for a few hours, because it’s SO COLD out there). You will be waiting for a while, dearest love, because Mama will not be “hopping up” to do anything at all for a few days, least of all to cater to you, oh who am I kidding, give me 5 minues. Kisses, G

The good news coming out of all this is that, despite the pretty intense, um, removal process, my Fallopian tube did not collapse under everything it has gone through, and have to be, basically, capped off to prevent any further weirdness happening down there. So, I have two functioning, unencumbered ovaries! And strong tubes! YOU GO, TUBES! HIGH-FIVE!

The scary, but still good, news now is that, probably next month, I get to start the process of Trying To Make A Baby The Good Old-Fashioned Way, Starting From Square One. I’m finally (mostly, probably) on a level playing field with the rest of you Fertile Myrtles. It’s only taken me since July 2007 – 42 months! – to finally meander my way here.

In the meantime, I will continue to try to hide this process thus far from nosy, dramatic family, and gossipy coworkers. Two women in my group, around my age, got married in the past few months, and another has made clear the fact that her husband is Totally Ready To Have A Kid, and now people in the department are taking bets on which of us will end up pregnant first. Hey ladies, I’ll take twenty bucks on ANYONE BUT ME!

But it feels good to (hopefully) put all of this behind me, and move forward, and ALSO to get the eff out of January – I hate you, January – you always suck so bad, BE GONE. So!

Let’s do this thing.


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Ways In Which An Elephant Would Be Handy Around The House

Posted by Gin on January 24, 2011

  1. To ward off intruders:
    a) With their loud, scary trumpeting
    b) By deterring criminals in the first place, because people with elephants? You don’t want to eff with them.
  2. Assisting in putting up/taking down of Christmas lights (Coworker: “But you could just use a ladder.” Me: “But ladders AREN’T AS CUTE.”)
  3. Is their poop compostable or something? See, that would be like, green and stuff.
  4. They could help drag the trashcans to the end of the drive. (We have a very long driveway.)
  5. They can help rinse when washing the car.
  6. It would make for a very cute holiday card to send to friends and family, right? John and I, atop a majestic elephant, its trunk in the air – you would TOTALLY put that shit on your fridge door.


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On Asking A Woman, Of Any Age, When She And Her Partner Will Start Having Children

Posted by Gin on January 14, 2011

Don’t. You may have good intentions, but it’s kind of rude. Mind your own uterus.

Since I’m here, after an extended absence, an update:

There is more anesthesia in my future! Hooray! My exclamation marks are sarcastic! In case that wasn’t readily apparent!

Probably mid-February (in order to better coincide with my work schedule and not arouse any more suspicion than necessary), I will undergo laparoscopic surgery to remove endometrial tissue around at least one ovary that is likely the result of a previous condition that I will not get into now. The good news is that, after this, with the help of Clomid, I *should* be able to get pregnant without further surgical intervention. In theory. The bad news is that I won’t really know for sure until we get through all of this, I heal, and we start Regular Old Trying Again for several months. The Triumphant Return of Smash Week!

In other news, um…I got a new roasting pan for Christmas! And I still have a job! And I have resumed Lexapro! So I’m on a much more even keel now than I have been in a while, which is pretty nice – yay for no more fewer crying jags and less anxious, sleepless nights! Hooray for the wonders of medicine! (And wine.) (I’m kidding.) (A little.)


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