The surgery is done and the offending ovary has been sent to a path lab to be cut into bits under a microscope, which is a far better fate than it deserves after all the pain it has caused me over the past ten years. Bastard. Apparently it was covered in small cysts, so the birth control pills were not controlling them like they were supposed to... as I had assumed, since the pain never went away.
Now I have four and a half days to lay around and do nothing in a narcotic haze. I plan on reading a few books, catching my journal up on my life and working on my book or the new poems. (Yes, plural-- I've got two rough drafts, recently inspired.)
At the moment I'm going to dose myself with Demerol and crawl into bed; hopefully without Fatty-Cat leaping onto my belly any time soon.
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