Really quickly, before you read my pathetic account of pain and suffering, I want to promote a super fun and potentially violent family activity this Saturday. Take the short drive to Barnesville’s Rock Ranch where they’ll have their annual pumpkin smashing. Drop pumpkins from great heights, shoot them from cannons, drop them from cranes! It’s produce destruction at its best. I’ll be there with my sledge hammer.
Okay, now cue the violins……..
It’s Halloween night and my kids are off having fun at carnivals and cookouts. My husband is on the phone conducting an important business venture (I know this because he’s using his “important business venture” tone-of-voice.) I’m in bed nursing some of the worst pain I’ve ever experienced. On a scale of one to natural childbirth, I’d say it’s an 89.7.
Yesterday in my doctor’s office, I learned from grainy cheap porn quality black and white photos of my insides, that I have a leaking ovarian cyst. Dr. Kavuri reassured me that every female (including Adam Lambert and Richard Simmons) get ovarian cysts from time to time. “They’re natural! Nothing to worry about,” he explained, as if he were my dad shining a flashlight under my bed to prove there were no monsters under there.
Now that I’ve had to leave three different events today to go lie down and nurse my pain, I’m wondering just how “natural” this is. It’s pretty darn embarrassing to be giving a presentation to a group of doctors and nurses, double over in pain squeaking “ouch, my right ovary is KILLING me.” It feels somewhat akin to being stabbed with an 80’s Ginzu knife that’s been used to cut through one too many soda cans.
I’m sort of a hands-on mom who’s used to being right there in the mix with my boys. Just as my friend Shawn and I were getting our hair spray painted pink and green at the Liberty’s Carnival for Christ tonight, the pain stabbed into me with a vengeance. Shawn, who is one of those awesome friends who has amazing mind reading and empathizing super powers said “go home, Honey, I got the boys.”
So, here I am, in bed, having a pain pity party with my two companions, Katie-dog and Anakin the middle-aged angry white male cat. They don’t even have costumes on.
Happy Anti-Climactic Halloween.