Anemic Humor

***boys, leave the room now***

I was supposed to go in for an ultrasound tomorrow, to figure out why my monthly express has switched tracks and become the crazy train. So of course, whoo whoo! Guess who came into the station a full five days early? Grrrrr.

I am definitely ready to find out what the fark is going on with my body. Seymour is probably readier than I to find out if there's a way to deactivate my unpredictable insta-psycho-bitch button.

Because I am a hypochondriac worrywort, I think it's ovarian cancer, PCOS, or yet another undiagnosed and statistically almost impossible tubal pregnancy. It will probably end up being the same quotidian, painful, draining thing that plagued my mom and her mom too. I will not follow their path, though--they put up with it for years and were chronically anemic and ended up having their wombs torn from their bodies (albeit surgically).

Two weeks and we'll see. I have definitely been reading too many Thomas stories.

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