It’s not cancer. And the contractors are still here. And it’s started to rain, and the front end of our house is exposed to the elements and how are they supposed to paint the rest of the house, when it’s raining? WTF??? And…This post is not for the weak of heart.

So, I bleed. Only women bleed, to quote Alice Cooper. But we already knew that. Well, I bleed a lot, and cramp, and cry, and sit around feeling like a saddo. (You know, someone who’s sad all the time is a big ol’ saddo.) It’s just, like, half the time I’m bleeding or spotting. And the doctors say, eh, you just have bad cramps, is all. Or, eh, it’s a fibroid tumor. Then I have a baby and eh, the fibroid is gone. Then they say, eh, it’s a polyp, and they snip it off. Then I have another baby and eh, no more polyps! It’s a miracle! It’s freaking weird is what it is.

And no one bothers to explain to me what the difference is between a polyp, a fibroid tumor, a cyst, cancer? So I read this crap online, with millions of scary, gory pictures, completely freak myself out and then drink two beers and watch “Jeopardy!” with Hockey God, go to sleep and have nightmares.

So they do my pap smears, they come back as “funky” or “not as funky as the last one” (actual technical terms used by my last ob-gyn) and then we just kick it for awhile, my Alien Growths and I. Now this week I went in, cuz of Too Much Bleeding and Too Many Cramps, and the doctor takes a look and says (these are not words you want to hear, especially not on a Monday morning when you’re alone at the doctor’s), “It’s a polyp, and it’s huge.”

Next thing I know she’s doing a little minor surgery, removing this horrid looking thing that’s… well, not huge. But it is big, and it’s on my cervix, coming from my uterus. Neat! Then she decides, what the hell? Why not do a biopsy on my uterus, as long as she’s in there. “OK, you’ll feel a little cramping…” and I’m completely losing my mind and then it’s over. For now, anyway. And yes, this thing, this Alien Growth, eh, who knows how big it is?

Then she starts talking about filling me up with saline, and doing an ultrasound, and “We’ll wait for pathology, and if it’s cancer, we won’t do the saline, we’ll proceed differently, of course, but…”

At that point I said, “Can you please just stop talking for a minute?”

She says, “No, because I know what I’m going to say.”

Which was not why I wanted her to stop talking. I just needed to think. So she says yadda-yadda, surgery, yadda yadda, birth control pills might help, yadda yadda, IUD might help (and I’m thinking sure — put something else in there, that should solve the problem. Maybe we should try a diaphragm, too, or another 10-pound baby). Jesus God.

Then they send me on my way, chock-full o’ Advil. And don’t call all week long, not even after pathology calls to say, No, it’s not cancer, it’s benign. So it’s apparently a friendly Alien Growth, not a malicious, malignant one. We’ll go from here. And I talked with my acupuncturist, who says it’s all about my liver. As you may have guessed, that’s right — This is my fault. Because I am a wicked, evil person, filled with bile. Jesus God, again. No, he’s not saying that, he’s saying, the deal is — my liver is too hot, and it may be firing up these growths in (and out of) my uterus.

Also I need to reduce stress in my life. Ha! Ha! Fuck.

Also, it is somehow related to the goiters, cysts, nodules and tumors that my thyroid used to make, before the surgeon removed it. (What is the difference between all these classifications? I have no idea. I do know that goiters are the actual thyroid swelling; the other things are growths on it? Who knows.)

Suggestion One: Go off caffeine. This has been cake for me, as you can imagine. Ha! Ha! Fuck. Again.

Speaking of cake… Suggestion Two: No white sugar or flour.

Reaction to Suggestion Two: Cry again. In the grocery store. (This was on Thursday.) Then call the doctor’s office repeatedly, from the store, and leave messages saying, “Has the lab called? Cuz I’m kind of freaking out. I mean, I’m sure you haven’t heard yet, but I’m kind of freaking out…” (My husband, meanwhile, was worried, too, and hugging me all the time, which made me more worried, that he was worried. Also, all the hugging? I’m always convinced that someone has died, or is about to, if there’s too much hugging going on.)

Then they finally called back and said, “You’re OK. See you for the ultrasound in three weeks!”

Maybe the Pill will help? I’m hoping. Cuz the hormones are not doing what they should and need to be smacked around a little. And the acupuncturist? Says Motrin and Tylenol are not helping the liver, see? So the nice supplements guy at Wild Oats (yes, I cried when I started talking to him, cuz that’s just how lame I was being this week) sold me some stuff called Oona PMS 2 for cramping — wild cramp extract and ginger? Uh, something like that. It works, though, and that’s all I care about, for now. Also he told me that his dad had some horrible growth on his shoulder, and they had to remove it, plus a ton of tissue, and they were just wrecked, waiting for the call, but his dad is fine now, see? And I will be, too.

And I am. But these growths — not good. The doctor, when I was wanting her to not talk, also mentioned “precancerous” this and that. So they need to stop growing, dammit. Damn you, Alien Growths.

WM