All in All, I'd Rather Have a Puppy

Back to Fancy Hospital today for an ultrasound to check on my uterine fibroids, and just in the next set of rooms, a blood test to determine my FSH level, or follicle-stimulating hormone, though, as I said earlier, the test is supposedly inaccurate. It was odd to get the ultrasound because L, his daughter R and I had just seen Knocked Up on Sunday for Father's Day. The pregnant woman and her impregnator go to a gyne and look at the ultrasound screen together and see the embryo. So when I looked at the monitor I half-expected to see a little curled animal of my own, but there was a black space capsule instead. Empty. I started thinking I would be happy to be carrying a dog. A nice little hairless pre-dog that would attain fur before it slipped its way out. But seems kind of gross, fur sticking to my intimate insides.

I dreamed once, about 20 years ago, that I was giving birth to cats. It didn't seem strange inside the dream, but it did afterwards. They kept coming out, one after the other. I don't remember whether I was licking them. I may have.

What does not kill me makes me stranger.

The Boyish Gyne is supposed to call to tell me whether my fibroids are growing or not growing and whether I am still peri- or am full-fledged meno-pausal. And then what?

It is never just one thing. It is one and then follow-up and more and more. And then it's time to do the wash again and water the plants.

2 comments:

Dan said...

love the spin on Mr. N (though some attribute it to N via Goethe)?)...if yrs, congrats -- but I plan to use it anyway (with attribution) because it is, as you know, a propos...

Elaine Soloway said...

Heard your piece on 'BEZ today. Terrific.