We're adults. We know what that entails.
However, my body gets really grumpy about it and decides not only to tear down the aforementioned wallpaper with her fingernails and dismantle the bed with a hydrogen bomb, but also to light the remains of the "baby things" on fire. With a flamethrower. And explosives. And while most women have the cramps that guys think are nothing but are actually enough to keep us on the couch for days on end (I'll remember that next time you have kidney stones), I have this sensation of someone ripping my body in half that's enough to have me doubled over the back of a chair at work and frying under a heating pad at home.
Fun fun.
I mentioned it to a lady at work today and she breathed that horrible word that women worldwide cringe at: endometriosis. (For those of you who don't know, this is when the tissue that normally grows inside a woman's uterus starts growing outside of it. It's very painful and has been linked to infertility and ovarian cancer.) So immediately I started to panic and research specialists on the internet on my lunch break.
I figured I should look online first before I made any appointments. So I ventured onto that most reliable (ha) of medical websites: WebMD.
If I wanted to be comforted, I should not have started here.
On that handiest of websites, there's a section where you can "check your symptoms." You enter the discomfort you're feeling - anywhere from a runny nose to a snapped bone - and they'll diagnose you as either allergic to ragweed or dying of the plague.
To say that WebMD exaggerates is a gross understatement.
So I entered my age and gender, and when the little woman avatar popped up I clicked "pelvis." A whole list of "general symptoms" appears, and you add which particular ones you're feeling. I scrolled down to "body aches or pains." And oh happy day, another little bar popped up: "refine your symptoms."
Yes, I would call my pain severe.
No, they haven't been brought on or made worse by swimming in infested waters. I for one take great precautions when I swim in filth.
No, I haven't been near anyone with a "possible infectious illness." And I've had my malaria shot.
No, I haven't been outside the continental U.S. I went to Alaska last summer but who the hell swims in water - infested or not - in Alaska?
Done with the symptom refinement.
After I scrolled through the other list of general symptoms and decided that no, I couldn't say that binge eating, craving for dirt, excessive sweating (which I almost clicked when I thought it said "swearing"), impaired social skills, short stature, or fear were among the noted issues, I begged the Great All-Knowing Site to diagnose me!
I was comforted to see that endometriosis was not on the list of twenty-one possible conditions. The top choice was a viral syndrome, but "body aches or pains" was only one of the five characteristics. However, I am doing my research on the possibility of lupus, Lyme disease, Gaucher disease (but only the late-onset kind), cat-scratch disease (I did play with that cat a few weeks ago), dengue fever (though I don't remember the last time I saw an Aedes mosquito and apparently that's the only kind you can get it from), Coxsackie virus infection (though I'm not a child under the age of ten), and West Nile Virus.
I joke about it, but in all honesty I am going to have it checked out at some point. Which, if you know me, you'll understand how big of a deal this is. I hate going to the doctor. I mean, HATE IT. I had a chunk fall out of one of my fillings a while back and I waited for a month before I went to have it fixed because I despise the idea of going to the doctor. But while I doubt it's West Nile or Gaucher disease (late-onset or otherwise), I do want a definite "this is what it is." Because that's what doctors are there for, right?
So goodnight, dear friends. According to tonight's venture, I may be dead by morning. Keep your fingers crossed.
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