the fibroid that won't go away

I haven't had opportunity to really mention life in the post-surgical age.

If you recall in August I had surgery to help stop excessive bleeding due to a uterine fibroid. Said fibroid was rather large by the doctors' standards at about 5cm, so my first choice of oblation was vetoed and I had a procedure done to block my uterine artery and "starve" the fibroid so it would die.  Six months and a couple of really bad periods later, I am frustrated and annoyed with still having to deal with this. I had feedback from people saying that they had no periods or incredibly light periods after having the procedure. Others said it took up to a year to see a difference. I saw a difference the first couple of months but right now, we're right back to where we were last year, except that I'm prepared when I get my period, I don't leave the house without BOXES of supplies, a change of clothes and a quick path to an emergency exit.

Be prepared is my motto.

I mentioned this to my doctor at my physical earlier this month and she recommended another ultrasound, which I had done last week.

Results are that the fibroid has doubled in size  to 10.4 cm, AND I have a small cyst on one of my ovaries. Fanfuckingtastic.

So I'm reading this letter this morning while I'm on this stupid diet, and I'm thinking that my entire body is in complete and utter revolt. Which is kind of not fair, man.

 I mean, I haven't treated it all that well for the 45 years it has been my vessel, but neither have I completely abused it.

I don't fill it with heroin, I dont' cut myself, abuse myself with food and alcohol to extremes on either end. I make it go hiking, I put lotion on its skin so it won't be all dry and flaky all winter long. I wash it, I trim its toenails. And this is the thanks I get. Blood work saying "you have diabetes and high cholesterol! Rawwr!" and the bleeding! and the fibroid! And the what the hell can possibly be next!

I started thinking of the fibroid as Audrey II from "Little Shop of Horrors" and started laughing, then I got completely grossed out at the idea of a giant human chomping plant growing out of my vagina. So let's put aside those images... meh!

Feeling like I can't win for trying, I guess. My doctor's letter (I like how they don't call you and leave a voicemail with these things) said that she wants to discuss options and recommends that I go back to my OB/GYN and start at square one.

Considering last year I had two options and one of them has not worked, it looks like the other option is a hysterectomy. Or, suck it up, and just deal with bleeding to death once a month.

What I wouldn't give for a bottle of wine and some bacon and a little revenge on this body, this mortal vessel, this betrayer, this judas.