Ball Twisting.

Yep, you read that right. I considered titling this something else, but all my poor little sleep deprived mind could come up with was "Ball Twisting." So there you have it... Perhaps now is a good time to put a little reminder out there of the disclaimer I gave when I first started this blog before I continue with this particular entry. I will say that it is unlikely I will be discussing those same exact words, as I am no longer pregnant, but I will be using other just as unpleasant ones. I mean come on, I have a baby who (gasp!) poops and let me tell you, does it stink now that we've introduced solids. He also pees! Sometime in the tub! (shock and awe!) Then there's me. Yep. You guessed it. I still have a uterus. Does it have a baby in it? God I hope not! It does, however still present me with some problems. Problems that have been giving me trouble since the dawn of time, or more accurately since I was twelve. If you don't want to hear about poop and pee, or God forbid my uterus, I feel compelled to remind you, this is not the blog for you. Turn back now. Do not proceed. Scroll down at your own risk.

With that out of the way... In an effort to bring myself out of the postpartum funk I've found myself in, I've been trying to take better care of myself. As cliche as it sounds, if I'm not taking care of myself then I'm not going to be able to take care of my baby, right? Sooo, I've been forcing myself to eat breakfast every day, I've been making sure I don't spend every day in my pajamas, little G-Man and I have been going on walks almost daily and I've been trying to make other mommy friends (for the love of God why is that so hard??).

Today, after forcing a bowl of cottage cheese and fresh pineapple down, I put the little one down for a nap, waited for Husband to come home and I went off to get a filling. Apparently taking care of my teeth after having G was also low on the list of priorities and now I must pay. At least I got a little adventure away from the couch. After spending some time in the torture chair I came home, tagged Husband (you're it!) who trotted off back to work, and I resumed caring for the little stinker. Who as it turned out was quite literally a stinker. After changing a near blowout (a "poosplosion" as they're known around here) I decided to take G for our afternoon walk. Walks around here are usually pretty uneventful. I live in a small little community where the road conveniently goes in a circle so I can do "laps." As we make our way around my mind begins to wander. Today it went something like this: Who lives in that house? What outfit should I wear tomorrow? What outfit should G wear tomorrow? If G bites me with his new tooth, how bad will it hurt? What will I do if/when he bites me? Gee this stroller sucks. I should get a jogging stroller. Who am I kidding? I don't jog! Ow that hurts. Did those old ladies just lap me? Wait, what? What the hell is that pain? Shit. That pain feels familiar. Yes they did lap me!! Better pick up the pace. Damn. There's that pain again. It's baaa-aack!

And with that we returned home. For those that don't know the story, I'll try to give a brief back story. Painful (like passing out, puking, need a shot of whiskey painful) and heavy periods since forever. Countless doctors, many of whom laughed me out of their offices, and years of taking over-the-counter and prescription (don't worry not the addictive kind!) pain pills during that time of the month. Finally saw an OB who listened, Dr. M, and was willing to take action. In the summer of '09, after countless ultrasounds and endless debating I went in for an exploratory laparoscopy. Dr. M. warned me repeatedly that they might not find a source for my pain but I figured it was worth taking a look. At that point extensive walking and sometimes just getting up off of the couch caused a shooting/stabbing, take-your-breath-away pain in my pelvic area. Although they had found cysts on my ovaries through ultrasounds, she didn't think that was the cause, so she decided to take a deeper look.

That day my wonderful parents drove down to be with Husband and me as I went in for the procedure. Since I was out like a light I don't really remember much about that day except for the excruciating pain as Husband and my Dad helped carry me up the stairs to our apartment. As I understand it, the procedure took a little longer than Dr. M had originally anticipated. Lo and behold, not only did she find a source for my pain, she actually found a couple of sources. The first being what I already expected, Stage II Endometriosis. Then the unexpected news... buried somewhere under or around my intestines was a relatively large (about the size of a small egg I believe) subserosal pedunculated fibroid tumor. For those that don't care to follow the link I will rely on the words of the wonderful Dr. M. Apparently as she was telling my parents and Husband about her findings she explained that the fibroid was one that was growing on the outside of my uterus. This kind of fibroid is attached to a stalk rather than growing on/in the lining of the uterus. When the stalk twists it can cause pain. Feeling that her words weren't carrying enough weight she continued. (Paraphrasing here) It would be like if every time you sneezed or got up from the couch someone grabbed your balls and twisted them. Apparently the look on Husband's and Dad's faces was priceless. Too bad I was zonked out in the recovery room, I would I have like to have been there.

So, here I sit today, that nasty tumor was removed but I am left wondering if I have a new little friend growing. As I took my walk I felt some familiar twinges. They're not quite at the "ball-twisting" stage yet, so I'm hesitant to call the doctor. I was hoping to make it a full year without seeing her. A full year without medical problems. Of course if the ball-twisting worsens I suppose I'll be forced back to her office. Until then, anyone have any good jogging stroller recommendations? I can't be letting those old ladies lap me any more.