Well gang. It's 9:30 a.m. Wednesday morning. In four hours, I will hopefully be soaring along on an opium/valium/vicodin based high while I get surgically explored to find out what is causing my intense periods. I figure there are four possible outcomes:
1. We didn't find anything, Tami, so we have no idea what your problem is. Pay the bill at the desk on your way out and good luck.
2. We found a tiny fibroid that may be causing issues. We took it out, you're good to go so pay at the desk on your way out.
3. We found a 90 lb fibroid that we will remove in the hospital next week. Make an appointment before you start clothes-shopping for smaller sizes. (Note: this is the one we are hoping for.)
4. We found . . . .well, you know what they could find with my genetic history. When Tami regains consciousness and stops crying, have her pay the bill at the desk on her way out.
I will hate #1. I've heard it too many times and it puts me right back where I started with no relief, no answers, just more bills. I will accept #2 and hope the doctor's right and my problems are over. I hope for #3 because it would explain so much and I wouldn't mind (HA) dropping a few pounds. I dread #4 because I went to too many doctor's appointments with my father when he was told he had cancer, and I know the ramifications.
So, think good thoughts for me today. I will make sure to post ASAP and let me know if it was door #1, #2, #3, #4 or something completely unexpected. Life IS just a game show, right?