Speed bump.

I did, indeed, go to bed early last night, setting the alarm for an hour after I normally take my evening meds. Woke up, medicated, and staggered off to the loo. Where I discovered a weird and tender bulge in my privates. Went back to bed, slept fitfully, and awoke to a seriously crabby perineum. Hurt to walk. Hurt to sit. Hurt like blazes to pee. And the bulge was significantly larger.

I discussed this with Middlest over breakfast. (There are very few topics off-limit chez Ravelled.) We agreed that I should call my doctor's answering service and see what could be done. I finished breakfast, showered and shampooed gingerly, dressed even more gingerly, put out the trash, and got into the Tardis. Called the answering service and left a message the good doctor. He called me back within a few minutes. I told him that I thought my pelvic floor had dropped. He told me that the surgery which had been scheduled for this morning had cancelled, and to please be in his office at 9:30.

I called in, said that I was going to see my doctor and that I'd be in afterward. I got to the clinic about 45 minutes early and spent that time reading articles on my phone. When he examined me, he discovered that the problem was a sponge that got left behind after my surgery. He carefully fished it out. Instant relief. Poor man was mortified. And furious with himself. I couldn't be angry with him. He noted my chart and made a note to himself to take it up with the doctor who assisted. "This should not have happened to you. And we need to make sure that it doesn't happen to any other woman under my care."

And then we discussed the pathology report. No cancer in the samples. However, what I have is endometrial hyperplasia without atypia, complex. What this means in layman's terms is that my obesity stores excess estrogen, which thickens the uterine wall. If I do not make significant changes in diet and exercise, I am at high risk of developing uterine cancer. In fact, he said, I had been as close to that line as it is possible to be without actually crossing it.

There are two ways to treat this. The conservative way is to begin taking progesterone and to lose a significant amount of weight in the next three to five years. The risks associated with taking progesterone are an increased chance of developing breast cancer. (And, given my experience with The Pill in the early 70's, plus all five of my children's reactions to progesterone, a high chance of developing some level of psychosis. I was hell on wheels when I was married to FirstHubby.)

The second way to treat this is to remove the uterus. I'm pretty sure that that is what I will ultimately choose, but I don't want another surgery this year, and I want to use my remaining PTO for fun things like vacations.

So tonight I will add progesterone to the other five pills that I take, and Middlest and I will monitor me for changes in my mental health, and part of next month's Social Security check will be dedicated to a gym membership.

My doctor said that some of the positive side effects of progresterone can be lessened anxiety, better sleep, and a more relaxed body. Make it so. And if I could have the fuller head of hair that I enjoyed during my pregnancies, I would be elated.

I need to do more research, but that's it for now. I am nowhere near as exhausted as I was last night, but I am tired, and I need to put my feet up, and I want to read, and I want to go to bed at a reasonable time. Later, gators.