It is an odd thing, really. I am not sure whether any of my women friends read this blog. I am, however, sure that several of my male friends do.
Feel free to blush and look away, boys.
I have to have an ultrasound tomorrow. Of the super-alpha-prime-up-close-and-personal kind, to check out whether there are any gynaecological reasons for my anaemia. (Yes, this has taken 5 months to arrange … partly my fault, partly circumstances beyond anyone’s control, partly weird policy stuff at the place I am having it done).
My GP and I are pretty near certain that this is where the problem is. Which is probably a good thing, because it’s likely to be relatively easy to clean up. We just hope it will show up on the ultrasound. If I get a contraceptive implant (ugh – I am a bit squeamish about the idea of being able to feel it in my arm, but it is probably better than getting Depo Provera shots again) it will help as a preventative, but we are also looking for anything that needs to be cured. She was making noises about a possible need for minor surgery.
All in all, I am not as squicked at the prospect of being intimate with an ultrasound machine as I possibly could be, or as stressed about what they might find. (Also, two babies, six or more ultrasounds between them … doesn’t leave a woman with much need for dignity).
Not sure when I will get results. I imagine it could be, “Oh look at this whopping great fibroid” or it could be “We will send results to your GP by Friday.”
Note to self: Make appointment with GP for Friday, just in case.
Meanwhile, I had blood tests last week and need to arrange to collect those results too. I know they have to have been better than last time because they did not make me dizzy and light-headed, although they did still tire me out.
With 25 weeks or so till I go overseas (OMG! YAY!), I feel that the pressure is on to get over this.