So went back to the pink building of hell and got to sit in a waiting room filled with many many pregnant women with their partners - all in varying degrees of horrible bliss, all looking at lonesome me like I was the saddest creature on the planet.
I had arrived ridiculously early for my appointment and just wanted it over with as quickly as possible. Luckily someone somewhere likes me today and I got into the Ultrasound a half hour early.
I unceremoniously dis-robed and lay back on the bed, everything titled in the right direction which the nurse asked if I was allergic to latex? No I answered as she pulled out a probe that was a good foot longer than it needed to be and then she told me to relax.
I know she warned me it was going to be cold but… holy icicles, Batman!
As she poked around and tried to prod my lungs into a corner she asked why I was there and then said the magic word
“Well, I can confirm it is Poly Cystic Ovaries. Your ovaries are very large.”
I was going to make a joke about them just going along with the rest of me but instead choked out only a ‘thank you’.
An answer. Finally.
PCOS - the thing Google told me years ago I had. The thing my wonderful GP thought I had and then my blood tests disagreed with. The thing the evil doctor from Gynae hell thought it was too.
An answer.
Now I just have to wait for an appointment for the next step - treatment.
All day though my insides have been cramping up. I suppose that’s what happens when someone tries to get a flag pole up your vajayjay.
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