I DO NOT Enjoy Being a Girl

Tomorrow, I go in for a sonogram to determine if my reproductive system is freaking out again. Or freaking out still.

I don't know what I want them to find.

If I'm all cyst-eriffic, that means either another surgery and/or drugs that will make me look like Captain Kangaroo, complete with jowls and moustache.

If I appear tumor-free, that probably means I won't get a lot of help for the pain has made a return visit and seems to have settled in comfortably.

And who's to say that if I do have surgery again, I won't be right back here in another year, in pain and with a tender, round Buddha belly?

I'm not very happy about being back in this place.