First, thanks to everyone who left comments on my sweater pics. It's so wonderful to know that people actually stop by. I've been trying to wrangle youngest daughter for pics of the sweater for my brother, but it's like trying to capture the wind. She's a teenager. I'm not. That means we live on totally different schedules. She's still on the phone at midnight and I'm up at the crack of dawn. (I have no idea what time I'll be done, so let's just say that my computer clock says it's 8:21AM and I just put my last load of laundry in the dryer. I was up a bit after 5AM.) My daughter? I think she's breathing, but I don't want to check. It gets ugly if you disturb her "before her time". She's like a fine wine. Too early and you get grape juice. Too late and you get vinegar. I guess that means there's never a good time to wake her...
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If her presence floats through before I'm done typing, I'll see if I can get a pic. But she's like smoke in the breeze. Here now and gone before you can even blink.
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Oh well....
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So what are the dragons? Be warned anyone of the male persuasion. I'm gonna talk about female stuff for a few minutes, so you might want to make like my daughter and disappear until the next post... /g/
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I do listen to Lime & Violet. Yes, they're a secret obsession. Definitely gets me some very strange looks from the students as they pass my security booth and hear wild cackling and lots of giggling. And, yes, I follow the Boob Rock discussion. I'm curious. What can I say? I'm female and Violet is going through every woman's fear of discovering the Boob Rock. But I'll trade her Boob Rock for the Perimenopausal Basketball...
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About two years ago, my gyn found a fibroid tumor on my ovary. No big deal. Not unusual for women who are staring down menopause. Yes, I'm a bit on the young side, but is there really a young side? I mean, c'mon, is there an age when menopause starts? I've heard everything from 45 - 60, so let's just say there are no hard and fast rules as to when this stage is supposed to start or (God forbid) how long it'll take. I hear through the grapevine that my ex-sister-in-law is deep in the throes of menopause and she's two years younger than me. So I wasn't surprised for the doc to say, "gee, honey, you're on the edge"...
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Let's be real. I've been on the edge ever since giving birth, right? /g/
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So anyway, I've been living with the tumor ever since. It actually took me a whole year to get up the nerve to ask the doc just how big this tumor was. She tells me it's the size of a grapefruit. Hmm... come to think of it, maybe THAT explains my obsession with fruit. (If you've followed, as I paint my rooms, my Hubby says I have a fruit theme going on in the house. My hallways are lemon colored. My living room is the color of a honeydew melon. And I've threatened to do my dining room in a strawberry.... LOL!)
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Okay, back to grapefruit. Fine. I can live with it since she assures me that this sucker will start shrinking once I hit the official menopause. This was last year.
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Fast forward to this year. I go for my annual and she discovers the damn thing is getting bigger. Rather than shrinking like the nice little PITA it is, it's growing. Again, maybe this explains another strange recent obsession. I've been watching Alien and Aliens (yup, parts I and II) with strange fascination lately.
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You know the scene from part II where she's dreaming in the hospital and wakes to have an alien almost burst from her bellybutton? Well, this past week, my alien baby was trying to scoop me out from the inside with a very dull spoon. Argh!!!! Very weird because it was certainly centered right below my bellybutton. Pain sharp and dull at the same time. Luckily, it was just one day. Period from hell. And, of course, that was the day that my boss at work felt it necessary to flex his non-existent muscles. He gave me a letter of suspension for reasons I won't go into. Let's just say he threw a tantrum and, like any good two-year-old, I really wanted to spank him. I could, but I won't. I'm a better person than he is. Let him have his tantrum and maybe he'll leave me alone for a while.
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Back to alien baby... I have an appointment with the doc next month. We'll "discuss our options then". Hmm. I have a feeling they'll want to remove this baby before it explodes on its own. That's okay with me. Think I can get them to remove the ovaries while she's in there? What do you think of the chance that I can get a tummy tuck tossed in for my trouble? /g/
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Course, I have to tell the joke of this whole new episode. She sent me for an ultrasound. I'm watching the screen while the technician is moving the thingie around. Yup, there's my left ovary. Tiny little peanut on the screen. Pretty little spot. Yup, that's it. Looking good and she turns on the sound to show that it has good blood movement. (Why? I don't know, but they feel this is important.) Then she moves the thingie over to the right side. This large mass fills the screen, looking like I've sprouted a new brain in the wrong place. Yup, alien baby. Big mass that even I can see with no training whatsoever.
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So I say something to the effect of, gee, it's no wonder all those ab crunches weren't flattening anything. She kind of laughs and says that they'd have to remove my intestines for my belly to be flat. Again.... Hmm.
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So Violet? I'll trade your Boob Rock for my Alien Baby.
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And now I'll apologize for such a crass and rude comment. I've gotten it off my chest.... er, well, not the correct anatomical location, but you get the drift. I just had to say it. I don't mean it and I wouldn't trade with her. I wouldn't wish this on anyone. I'm not worried. My doc is tops in her field and I trust her judgement. If she says remove it, we'll remove it. I just wanted the opportunity to kvetch for a minute and sorry you had to listen. Now that I've had my moment of panic, I'm not worried at all. I've been lucky in that I've always been healthy and never had to worry about anything. I'm not worried now. If my doc was worried and wanted me back in the office immediately, then I'd be worried. But she's waiting until next month and that means this is not a problem.
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So now I'll get back to knitting on my brother's sweater. The sleeves are done and, in about 7 rows, I'll be at the midway point on the body. If I knit my little fingers to the bone this week at work, I'm hoping to finish this thing and be able to steek and sew and wash and block and my goal is to get it in the mail to him by 2/20.
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If you want to send prayers, pray that I can get the sweater done. In the meantime, I love having the excuse for not holding in my stomach every time I stand up. I have a reason it sticks out more than I'd like. The bad thing is that I might look heavier than I'd like, but you would too if you were about to give birth. At least I don't look as pregnant as I feel...
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/g/
