I feel a little bit like Alice did when she drank from a bottle labeled "DRINK ME" and became small. And, it's not the most comfortable feeling. You see, in order to talk about it, I'd have to go into details. Are you supposed to go into details on your blog?
Okay, then. Here's how it's gone. So far.
I'm a big fan of Jazzercise. It's fun and it keeps me fit. I honestly don't know how I would live without it. So, during a class sometime in August we were doing plié (Which looks a lot like a squat, but Jazzercise founder Judi Sheppard Missett doesn't like to call them squats!) and I noticed something going on in my lower left abdomen. If you put a pair of socks in your jeans pocket and squat, that's sort of how it felt, but inside my body.
When I got home after class, I disrobed and examined my abdomen. Now, I have never had a flat stomach. Not even when I was a teenager. So, I long ago gave up any hope of looking like those skinny models in VOGUE. I accepted my body the way it is. And, that's been okay so far. But, here I am in front of the mirror, naked as a jaybird, looking at my abdomen. All the crunches I've done in Jazzercise have paid off, because my abs are looking good for an old lady like me. But, that little pouch on the lower left ... is that fat? And, why do I have it on the left and not on the right?
Over the last couple of months, I've poked and prodded my abs, wondering why it feels weird, like I have a pair of socks in my pocket. Since it didn't hurt, I figured it's just fat. Until last week.
I was leaning across a counter that just happened to be at the right height for me to press my lower abdomen against it with my full weight behind it, and I felt something. It wasn't pain, but it was something to think about. And, after I thought about it, I called my doctor.
I've had the same physician for more than 20 years, which is saying something in today's world of healthcare. And, he's a good doctor. I told him what I've just finished writing here, now, and after a thorough examination, he suggested we should do sonograms. (I like the "we." It makes it feel like "we're" doing something together, even though it's me who endures the procedure.) So, three days later, I arrived before sunrise at the local women's clinic with a full bladder. The tech was terrific, letting me go pee as soon as she was done with the first scan, the one requiring the full bladder! She did three scans and sent me off with a pink carnation in honor of October's Breast Cancer Awareness.
Later in the afternoon, my doctor called and said the results from the first scan had come in and it showed "an abnormal thickening of the uterus." I guess that's my pair of socks, huh?
I have an appointment next week with my GYN. Lucky for me, I've had the same GYN for at least ten years, so he's got all my medical history right there, which I hope is helpful. And, now, like Alice, I feel small. My imagination runs away with me on most days, and I suddenly feel as if my time is running out. I am mortal. I am human. I am oh, so small.
There are a hundred "what if's" and I've poured over most of them while waiting for that next appointment. In the meantime, I'm looking for that little cake with "EAT ME" on it so I can be big. I really need to be big.
Where IS that little cake? Where is my courage? Did I lose it when I fell down the rabbit hole?
