I'd figured that talking with the sonographer while she stuck her magic wand up my nether regions would have been enough but, no, my GP wants me to go to see a specialist to make sure that my slightly thickened endometrium is really nothing to be worried about. I get why she wants me to do it but I just don't really want to. I've made the appointment and I'll go but I'm pretty sure that there's really nothing wrong and I will be paying out big bucks for no good reason - except to astound and amaze the gynaecologist with my 5 kilo uterus.
Yeah, she probably gets to see those all the time. She probably won't even applaud me.
I've worked out that I can fund this visit to the gynaecologist by selling my eggs because I've still got plenty. Woohoo! I'm never going to go through menopause. I am so not average. I'm decidedly above average in uterine size, weight and reproductive longevity. One might say I was ultra-feminine except that I'm not in the least girly. In fact I was only just saying yesterday how I'm one of the boys after running with the boys and they were kind enough not to point out the giant elephant-sized uterus in the room.
Anyone want a couple of half-century old eggs? I'm sure there's still some genetic material in them that's worth using. I couldn't have used up all the good stuff on my three off-spring.
But back to the medical stuff. I decided that I needed to get my full money's worth out of my GP visit (that is bulk-billed because she likes me) by asking her about my last lot of blood results. I had them done in July and had heard nothing so figured that all was okay. Well all is almost okay but not quite. My B12 levels were low and I needed to have a follow-up blood test. Still wondering if I would have had to have one if I hadn't bothered asking about my bloods. I thought it was the doctor's job to check results and ask for call-backs if there's something a little off. My mistake.
I got home and googled B12 deficiency so I could be fully cognizant of my newest fun condition and I decided that the blood tests were wrong. Yeah, I get tired but I'm pretty sure that's from running between 50 and 80k a week. And yes, I get breathless - when I'm running. And I think everyone, especially Iven, would vouch that I'm never moody, irritable or psychotic. But to be on the safe side I had vegemite on my toast for lunch because that's full of folate. And then I googled vegemite only to find out that folate is B9 not B12. Should have had tuna on my toast instead. Or tuna on vegemite.
I kind of feel like my body's falling apart a little bit. That age is catching up with me - except of course to my ovaries which are living in denial. I'm a little bit pissed off about it. Or I was until I remembered that this year I've run 3 half marathons and 2 marathons and I've had three new PBs. There's life in this old bird yet.
