I'm pretty sure my body hates me. We've been doing this fat-roll limbo for years -- where I'm not really fat, but I'm not as skinny as I used to be -- but neither of us will give an inch. It's a battle of the wills, one I'm intent on winning, but so far I'm hanging on by fingernails.
Recently, the body has pulled a one-two punch. During my recent appendecotomy, my surgeon discovered a beautiful, plum-sized tumor on my liver. I do have a photo, if you're so bold. But be warned, it's magnified and in technicolor.
Such things should never be shared, but then again, I'm not one to stand on propriety. Plus, I know my sister wants to see it. She's freaky that way. She likes that weird medical shit.
This particular lump of goodwill is a benign tumor known as a hepatocellular adenoma. They are fairly rare (which makes me special, right?) and most common in women my age who have taken large amounts of estrogen.
So because I want to have condom-free, spontaneous sex and therefore chose the appropriate birth control option, this is my punishment? Sometimes, having ovaries sucks.
Needless to say, my only real option for treatment is surgery ... again. Next Wednesday, the knife and I rekindle our one-time romance.
On the bright side, my surgeon thinks he can reuse the hole I have in my belly button from the appy.
Oh. jolly. fucking. glee.
2 comments:
How are you feeling about the whole thing?
Thanks for the pic. It's my new wallpaper.
Now you don't have to haul puddin' around in Rome. That's nice.
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