The case of the my twat rot, solved.

As I sat down to chat with some friends online this morning, I read "does anyone know what time April's appointment is"? At which point I realized that I didn't know what time April's appointment was. Um, uh-oh.

Naturally, when I called, I was told that I had to be there in a half an hour and have a full bladder. After running around like a mad woman getting ready, drinking enough water to drown a small family of buffalo, I was out the door.

As I walked into the empty office at the hospital, and asked "can I help you"? I'm thinking, really? You don't have ANY one else in the office, you know damn well who I am. So my smart mouth had to say that I'm April and I'm here for my crotch shots. Lady, you're in the wrong office. Shit.

Of course I was late when I got to the right place, but I made it. After recounting the story to the ultrasound tech (who really didn't need to know, but was annoying as hell, and felt she had to ask) and then again to the radiologist, the ultrasound began.

The ultrasound thing looked entirely too much like one of my "toys" for me NOT to comment on it. Luckily he laughed. Annoying tech lady did not.

He immediately starts throwing out the T word, tumor. Way to put me at ease fucktard.

Turns out I have two issues. The first is some kind of glandular abnormality which causes these abscesses to occur. My mom has it, my sister has it. Not really that big of a deal, I don't think, but we'll see what my doc has to say about it. We probably won't do anything for it, as it causes some painful episodes now and again, but it's manageable.

When he couldn't find anything else structurally wrong in my labia, he moved up. Well, boy howdy, did he find the problem. I have a hernia. That's right, a fucking painful, but not crotch cancer, hernia. Come to find out that in women the pain from hernias manifest in the labia a lot, although they aren't terribly common.

I could have kissed the guy. Worst fear going into this appointment, was to discover cancer. Second worst fear was that they discovered nothing and it turned out to be a nerve issue. The last thing I want is THAT nerve destroyed, cause, you know, it's kinda a biggie.

The fact that it's a hernia, which can be addressed is better news than I could have hoped for. I'm sure I'll be referred to a general surgeon at some point and have a consult. In the mean time, I'm just very, very relieved.

My sincere thanks to my pussy prayer posse. You ladies rock.