Intrauterine Terrorism

My uterus is a terrorist.

It is because of my uterus that I spent all night in the hospital AGAIN instead of at home, where I could be asleep by now. But NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. My uterus had other plans entirely.

WARNING: CONTINUING READING THIS BLOG POST MAY POSSIBLY MAKE YOU FEEL SCARED AND OR DISTURBED.

Last October, my uterus decided that it was going to with hold my period from me for four months. Unfortunately, it decided to release ALL of the hormones that cause PMS so instead of a period I had PMS. Every single day. For almost four months.

I took pregnancy tests, thinking that might be the problem. Nope.

I went to the doctor, thinking it was that stupid cyst on my ovary, or that maybe the pregnancy tests were wrong? Nope. But they put me on pills for a UTI that I didn't know I had. One day after I took the pills, I started my period. Thank God. For once, I was happy to see the little bitch rear it's ugly head. Life was back to normal.

Until two weeks ago.

I got my period again. Yay! I'm still un-impregnanted! But this time, it's accompanied with some of the worst pain in my life, dizziness, headaches and nausea. So, after two weeks of bleeding like a stuck pig, Fiance dragged me to the hospital. Mostly because I sat down in the middle of Kroger and said I was going to sleep. (Blood loss apparently got to me, though I just thought I was tired).

What I've learned from the doctor:

1. That I have another cyst on my ovary. I "complex" cyst. If it gets worse, it shall need to be surgically removed. This cyst is on my right, and is a bigger terrorist group than the cyst that is on my left, which while annoying, isn't as kick-ass as the thing on my right. 
2. My uterus is indeed the terrorist backing both terrorist movements.
3. Starting tomorrow, an anti-terrorist group (birth control) will force its way into my system, attacking not only the two smaller terrorist groups, and putting the uterus' cocky ass back in it's fucking place.
4. It's really uncomfortable to get a pelvic exam when the doctor looks like Joel Osteen. 

The funny thing is, that the uterus is doing this simply so I will reproduce and pop spawn out into this world. However, because I have yet to comply with this "oh-so-simple" request, my uterus is throwing a temper tantrum. It is currently thrashing about and stomping its metaphorical feet because it wants a baby and I am refusing it. My other organs do not like it. I do not like it. I would like to be able to move out of a fetal position, or to watch Disney movies, or any other movies/tv shows/commercials for that matter, without either getting angry or bursting into tears. And I would like sleep.

 And guess what, uterus? These two terrorist factions that you've put on each of my ovaries are doing more harm that good. You hear that? There's a chance that if they don't go away, and get to where they have minds of their own and do not listen to you at all, that I may have to remove my ovaries. You know what that means, right? NO BABIES. EVER. And you would only have yourself to blame for it.

Personally, I would like to keep my ovaries, seeing as AFTER I FUCKING GRADUATE I plan on putting them to their purpose and if you don't stop throwing your little bitch-fits, that will never happen.

We will do things on MY TERMS, Uterus, not yours. I do not negotiate with terrorists. You think I'm scared of you? Well, if I was, then I wouldn't start birth control just to regulate your moody ass, since you either decide to show up randomly, on my doorstep, in say, the middle of a Final OR you show up late for your shift and I worry that you did what you wanted without giving me a heads up, in which case I would seriously consider removing you.

That's right. Removing you. I do not need you to survive. I can live without you just fine. You are just really stretchy muscle or skin or whatever you are, and if I really didn't want to have children, I can just get them to suck you out. But, since I do want to have children eventually, I will keep you Uterus. But you will stop your bitching. Or I will cut you.