Today I'm venturing away from my usual family friendly babble. Read no further if the subject of ovaries makes you cringe. But you might want to read anyway. Believe me, I can't make this stuff up.
I went for a pelvic ultrasound this morning. And yes, it was as much fun as it sounds. But I digress. Turns out I'm missing an ovary. It used to be there. But today it didn't show up for our appointment. No cancellation notice. No vacation request. No Dear John letter. Just AWOL.
Hello? National Hotline for Missing Ovaries? I need to report an ovary-knapping.
Where does an ovary go when it gets tired of hanging out with its friends uterus and fallopian tube? Does it hook up with the bladder hoping to score a trip to the outside? Frankly, it's like being blindsided by a high school breakup. I would have changed if only I'd known it was unhappy.
I have no idea what the implications of being down an ovary are. I hope the treatment regime includes Klondike bars and a margarita or two. Stay tuned.