Hysterical

While at the doctor’s office two days ago, waiting for the procedure to begin, I kept my nose in the Carl Hiaasen I was reading. I’ve mainly given up on thrillers and mysteries, but I haven’t ditched Mr. Hiaasen yet: his books are funny, and they tend to feature scathing social criticism, often to the tune of environmental themes, which is particularly important at the moment because I’m trying to finish up five books for a week of eco-themed book reviews at the library’s book-review blog.

Then the doctor came in, saw the book, and said “Oh, he’s great.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “He’s hysterical.”

I wasn’t consciously making a pun, but I’d like to take credit for it anyway. The doctor was on OB/GYN, and the procedure involved my uterus, so I think I should get credit for “hysterical.”

The doctor was there to implant an IUD, a little gizmo that sits at the bottom of the uterus and releases copper for ten year. It is not very often that sperm get anywhere near my ova, but just in case any of the wee beasties find their way to my girl bits during the next decade, I will be in no danger of reproducing. With my insurance, the whole thing cost twenty bucks. I think I can handle two dollars per year for birth control.

The procedure was rather painful. Because I have a small, delicate little cervix (Never been used! Like new!) the doctor had to dilate it. From what I understand, this is the sort of thing that happens when women deliver children. No wonder they say childbirth is painful. My few minutes of enduring a slightly-enlarged cervix was bad enough.

The worst of the pain was finished by the time I left the doctor’s office, but the cramps have continued—and my small, delicate little cervix has been leaking blood ever since. From what I gather, this is not entirely atypical, so I am probably not going to keel over dead. I hope.

The fact remains that my reproductive organs have been on a low, steady drip for 42 hours now. I was sort of using that blood, you know? Yesterday didn’t seem to bad, but then I took a nap, which turned into, if you can believe this, fourteen hours of sleep. Even I, one of the world’s champion nappers, cannot sleep for fourteen uninterrupted hours unless something’s wrong.

Then today I definitely noticed the effects of operating with rather less blood than normal. I’ve been feeling dizzy and distracted (and crampy, don’t forget that), and also irritable, but that’s pretty much par for the course so I’m not sure that’s a symptom. Tomorrow, if my uterus is still giving away blood like it’s going out of style, I suppose I’ll break down and call the doctor.

And now, since it is getting on toward ten o’clock, I think I’ll take a nice long nap. This is several hours earlier than my typical bedtime, but considering that my typical bedtime is absurdly late, I think I’ll take advantage of the drowsiness caused by my leaky plumbing and get to bed at a reasonable hour for a change. If it transpires that I die overnight, please refrain from putting the cause of death on my tombstone, okay? That would be embarrassing.