FML 2
For those of you whom are not fully up to date on your “net speak” FML means Fuck my life. When your luck is going ALL the WRONG way, you write FML.
Today, I went to the same hospital where I was born, where they did the first breast biopsy. Today I was there for the ultrasound of my ovaries and uterus.
Let me tell you, that’s the LAST time they’ll be doing THAT procedure on me.
As it turns out, the tech couldn’t see the cyst on my ovary via the trans abdominal route. When they did the endovaginal ultracound (not a pleasant procedure, thank you very much) he said he saw it well. Turns out, UCSF made a mistake and said it was my left ovary, but it was THEIR left, MY right.
When I asked the tech what size it was, ballpark, he made a fist shape, hesitated, opened his fingers and said “about the size of a good lemon?”
WHAT THE FUCK!?
I see school slipping away from me again.
As I write this, there’s a lump in my throat and I”m fearing I’ll have to take ANOTHER year off—I can’t take a few weeks/days out of the program, or pick it up next semester…what am I going to do?
If this thing can wait until the holidays, I promise to come home and have it out…but if it becomes a problem in New York—what then? Will my insurance cover me? who will take care of me while I recover? George can’t leave to come take care of me, our dog is too old an feeble to be boarded, or stay with strangers…he’d die for sure.
Fuck.
My.
LIFE!
