A lot of thoughts

[sailorzeo]

It's the most wonderful time of the year again.  Tomorrow I get to go for my annual poke-n-prod at the gyn.  I'm actually really looking forward to it, because I can get drugs!  I'm hoping for three prescriptions: 1) birth control pills, to keep my cycles regular and prevent an uh-oh, 2) flutamide, to take down the extra androgens in my system, and 3) glucophage, or the generic equivelant, to help with the insulin-resistance part of PCOS.  Plus, I'm going to a good doctor (according to friends down here), so maybe they'll actually TALK to me.  That's one thing that annoys me.  Doctors never seem to want to tell me anything, not my test results, not how to deal with the conditions they diagnose me with, nothing.  This is why I'm bringing Cyn along (well, also since she knows where it is).  She's been going to this place for years, and she's a little older than I am, so she knows what to ask.  I know I need to ask/request the flutamide and the glucophage, but she might think of something I've missed.

I'm also prepared for an abnormal Pap.  I had a series of them in early college, which after a cryocautery of my cervix, cleared up.  After much badgering, the doctor finally told me it was due to a bacterial infection passed from a partner.  Normal penile bacteria, she went on to explain, nothing major.  Well, I'm active again, so I'm expecting an abnormal Pap again.


So, in preparation for this event, I shaved.  And I will be shaving.  While in the shower, I came up with a silly bit of rhyme:

My husband has a wife who's rather hairy
I find the sight of her appalling, even scary!
I can't avoid her to avoid the scare, you see
For that hairy, scary woman there is me!

I've been reading short novels by Effie Leland Wilder, who started writing when she was 85, and in a retirement community.  She peppers the diary-style novels with little rhymes she's written, and I think she's rubbing off on me.  Very cute novels, quick reading, and great when you just want something nice to read.  I suggested them to my mom, with a note that my grandmothers might even like them.  It's hard to tell about my grandmother Mooney anymore, what she'll like and dislike.  She may love them, or she just might look at them and say, "I'm already old, I don't need to read about other old people."  So who knows.

I'll just end with this thought: when parts other than fingers and toes turn pruny, it's time to get out of the tub!