(Disclaimer: I am going to talk about “womanly” issues in this post. Reader beware.)
I recently started developing ovarian cysts. It's no big deal, really – they are actually pretty common in the general (female) public. And in my case, they also run in the family. Ovarian cysts don't affect child-bearing capabilities or anything major like that. More than anything, they are just a nuisance to deal with if one of them decides to burst because they can get pretty uncomfortable.
So, after a few months of having this intermittent discomfort (and after one particularly painful episode at work where I threw up and nearly passed out), I decided that I should probably go see my OB/GYN just to make sure that my self-diagnosis was correct.
At the appointment, I re-told my story. The doctor listened intently, nodding along with me as I listed off all my factoids. When I finished talking, she said that she agreed with the cyst diagnosis. And then she asked "Now, how old are you?"
My favorite question.
When I told her that I was 32, she replied "Ah, that explains a lot."
Eh?
She went on to explain that, as women get into their thirties, all of the symptoms that usually accompany periods begin to intensify. These symptoms include cramping, bloating, bleeding, PMS, acne – and occasionally, the development of ovarian cysts. Since I am lucky enough to have escaped experiencing most of these symptoms even in my teens and twenties, this was not exactly what I wanted to hear.
I mean, as if facial wrinkles and aching bones weren't already enough to deal with in my increasing age, now I also get to re-live my adolescence – only WORSE?
For the love....whose lame idea was THAT?!
Well, right now I am PMS-ing like you wouldn't believe. A couple days ago, I accidentally got some bleach on one of my dresses, and I wanted to murder someone. At a goodbye party later that night, I felt all awkward and so not cool; I nearly bolted out the door 10 minutes after I got there so I could go home and bawl my eyes out to some cheesy music. And yesterday at work, a needle went missing during one of my surgical cases, and I nearly had a conniption fit in the search to find it.
THIS IS NOT NORMAL BEHAVIOR FOR ME!!!!!
I have a feeling that I am not going to enjoy this new phase of life.
