Warning - contains gynaecological details - my disturb some readers.
Once upon a time there was a very nice uterus. Unfortunately she had terrible neighbours, the ovaries, who didn't do their job properly and didn't give her the right hormones at the right time. The nice uterus tried to cope with the hormones that the ovaries threw at her but sometimes she needed help. Mostly she needed help when the hormones wouldn't bloody stop. Fortunately when she had some pills the ovaries would stop causing trouble for a while.
One day two tiny, tiny embryos came to visit the nice uterus. The nice uterus loved them. She took very good care of them and helped them grow and grow and grow into big babies. While they were staying with the nice uterus everything was all right.
When they decided to go the nice uterus knew it was the right time and she tried very hard to help them. After trying for a long time she was told that for the good of her babies something terrible would happen to her but it was okay because she'd get better. The terrible thing happened: a huge hole was ripped in the nice uterus and her babies were pulled out. It was hard but she healed.
After a while the problems with the neighbours started up again. This time they were worse. She had the pills again but they didn't work. She had more and more and more of them and eventually it was okay for a while but it didn't last. Some other things got tried too but they didn't last either.
Now she has been told that for the good of the whole neighbourhood something terrible will happen to her and that this time she'll never be the same again. She has been told that she might never bleed again. She won't be like other uteruses. She'll lose her nuturing skills forever. She'll never have any more babies.
She's been told she has until 10 October to get used to the idea.
2 comments:
Wow. How are you doing getting used to the idea?
I've been thinking about it a lot. Rationally it is a perfectly sensible thing to do and will probably improve my health and make my life easier. Irrationally it is harder to cope with. Writing this post was cathartic, it let me express some of the irrational feelings.
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