Dear Uterus:
Sincerely,
Your Employer.
EVICTION NOTICE.
To: Uterus of Mine
We are terminating your tenancy and want to evict you from the following property: 101 South Abdominal Way, Apt #2.
Our reason for evicting you is because: You suck, you leave detritus all over the damn place with no warning, and you cause your landlady emotional and physical pain.
You must move from the property or remedy our reason for evicting you by the following date: Oh, honey doll, there is NO REMEDYING THE REASON. You are OUT OF HERE as of mid-January!*
If you do not agree with this eviction notice you have the right to legal advice and may contact a lawyer. NO YOU DON’T. YOU ARE THE FUCK OUTTA HERE! HA! NO RIGHTS! YOU HAVE NO RIGHTS! NONE NONE NONE!
Name of Owner or Agent: Me.
DO NOT LET THE DOOR HIT YOU IN THE LINING ON YOUR WAY OUT!
*Fred won’t let me tell you the exact date because he’s afraid you’ll come stalk me or steal my uterus. He doesn’t know I’ll be Twittering all over the place before and after, mwahahaHA.
So, yes. Last week I had an appointment with my gynecologist to follow up and see where we were to go from here, with the labs and the ultra-sound not showing anything amiss, and the three different birth control pills not helping at all.
(My period came two weeks early. I think you can imagine how thrilled I was.)
She came into the room, and she looked through my tests and we discussed how the labs and ultrasound showed nothing amiss, and it seemed pretty clear to me that she was going to pussyfoot around some more, and I finally asked if, at this point, a hysterectomy was a possibility, and she jumped on that with both feet.
A hysterectomy is, indeed, a possibility. And it’s gonna happen. AND I COULD NOT BE MORE PLEASED. My ovaries and cervix will be staying, thank you very much, unless she gets in there and sees something weird going on with an ovary, in which case she’ll remove it. (Given that she did an ultrasound a couple of weeks ago and all looked fine at that point, she doesn’t expect that to happen.)
So, in a few more weeks (see the note at the end of the last section about how Fred won’t let me tell you exactly when I’m having it done) that hysterectomy will be PERFORMED and the constant goddamn bleeding will be done and over with.
CAN I GET A HALLELUJAH?!
(I can feel my stupid uterus getting ready for one last period, though. STUPID UTERUS.)
Thanks, y’all, for your book suggestions! I spent a lot of time last night looking through them at Amazon, getting sample chapters (sample chapters on the Kindle: BEST THING EVER!) and making notes of books I want to try in the future.
In a few hours, I will leave to take Gus and Mike…. somewhere. Where they will ultimately end up in their new home. NO DETAILS.
Details tomorrow, I promise. đŸ™‚
I am going to miss these guys SO much, I’m telling you.
Mike and Crazy Jake check out the feather teaser.
Cats on a tree!
Gus is skeptical.
Hello, have I perhaps mentioned ten million times that I LOVE THIS KITTEN? Make it ten million and one!
Mike and Gus sharing a snooze with Hydrox.
“Don’t hate me because I’m beyoootiful.”
“Okay, right. Funny. HILARIOUS. Now PUT ME DOWN.”
A bit dusty, and a piece of some sort of string on his head. My guess: he’s been rolling around under the bed.
Two Wonkas + two Cookies, mix together, shake lightly = a recipe for CUTE.
It hurts me to look at him, he’s so gorgeous.
Keebler and Mike were hanging out in the cat bed, and Keebler got a little too vigorous with the kneading and slurping. See Mike’s claw? He was like “Okay, kid. Calm it down, now. Tryin’ to snooze, here.”
I think the Cookies are going to miss Mike and Gus, too!
We call this Maxi‘s “Tony Soprano look”, because she’s got those flat, dead eyes going on. You SO don’t wanna mess with her, Chris-tuh-FUH will come mess you UP on her behalf.
Previously
2009: Meet George and Gracie.
2008: No entry.
2007: Oh look! It’s been two years since the last time we adopted a dog.
2006: Home again, home again.
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: How we met.
2000: And that’s all I have to say ’bout that.