Wednesday, April 21, 2010

I left my uterus in San Francisco

Not Really. Actually I left it at the hospital. And while I can have no more children, I am more than happy with the two I have. Bette and The Blonde are more than enough for any person.

Have I ever told you that my children saved my life? No? Hmmm, lemme share a story with you.

I had been married for a few years when I became pregnant with the first-born. Now like most women I know, our own health care come last on a rather long list of things to do. I wasn't on any medications that required doctor visits. I had no medical issues at the time. Annual check-ups were things that just never happened.

With some sudden on-set nausea and a pee-stick confirmation, I made an OBGYN appointment and received confirmation that I was pregnant. Let the testing commence. Lord, the amount of tests ran on various body fluids for a pregnant woman is astounding. At any given appointment, I was apt to leave looking like a well-fed heroin addict. (I don't have great veins and seem to attract nervous phebotomists.)

To get to the point, at some point I was diagnosed with advanced cervial dysplasia. This is only one step away from cervical cancer. Now, it stands to reason that while pregnant, one's body is into growing things. Babies, hair, everything grows faster. I was a baby making machine, what with cells dividing and whatnot. Unfortunately, this also sped up the abnormal cells squatting on my cervix, like hobos moving in for the winter months. Chances are that the cells would have prgressed at a slower rate had I not been pregnant, and I would have ended up with undetected cervical cancer. Which could have spread to other places. Which could have ended me.

My child saved me before she was ever born. Post-birth, I had surgery. The hobos were removed and life went on. Three years later, the same doctor told me they were back. And yes, I was pregnant again. Post-second-birth, all offending female-ish parts were removed, and hobo-land was permantly removed from the map.

Moral of the story: Bette made me realize that I had something to lose. The Blonde made me lose it and live happier and healthier as a result. My children saved my life. I have a feeling that it was so they could make me crazy for the rest of it.


Anonymous said...

Do your children know that they saved your life? If so, it seems that most kids would hold that info over your head.

Given the post title, I was hoping for a full-on rework of the Tony Bennett classic.

Dawn said...

This one was a hard one to title, and yep, they know, but they haven't made the connection. Lord help when when they figure it out but I still win. I gave them life. One hundred points for me!

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