How’s that for a blog title?
Last week I had my annual OBGYN appointment. I’ve always been responsible about going to the doctor for regular check-ups — and I’m the same way with my kid, who had her annual check-up yesterday.
So, this was going to be just run-of-the-mill, blah, blah. To the women who read this blog: you know that you’re put in a rather vulnerable position during this kind of feminine exam, right?
So, there I was, laid out on the white tissue paper, with the gown falling off my shoulder, when the doc said, “Wow, you have a big cyst on your right ovary.”
I had no idea. She pointed it out, and indeed, I did feel this odd bulge below my rib cage.
I know that ovaries on cysts are common, although I’ve never had one.
But I’d kind of been hoping to hear: “Rachel, you are the healthiest, most fit 30-something mom I’ve ever seen in my practice.”
I shouldn’t be worried, she added, but she’d like me to have an ultrasound to get it checked out.
So, this morning, on St. Patrick’s Day, I’m going to be putting on my green shirt and heading to the closest ultrasound imaging center. I need to drink at least six glasses of water before I get there — and I’m not allowed to pee.
Wish me luck with that one.
Speaking of which, here’s the cake we decorated last night for my Dad, who’s 70 today:
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