I don’t know ’bout you, but using the bathroom and expunging waste from the day before was a morning ritual I looked forward to. I’d wake up, take my poo, feel good about life, and be on my merry way. At some point this year it became clear to me something had changed. My poos were no longer a relief, but a burden. They were physically different. It also took longer, and I had to strain more even though I was not constipated.

I was diagnosed with severe endometriosis that required laparoscopic surgery in 2008 which has me wondering if the two are connected. Back then, the surgeon told me to get used to the thought of having multiple surgeries. The endo was all over and he removed excess tissue from 17 different spots. One of my fallopian tubes was held shut by the offending tissue, and a large nodule was found way back in my womb. I spoke of my concerns to my (relatively new) gynecologist this year, and he suggested metamucil and seeing a PCP.

I got a PCP who was a little bit off, and riffed about how he has 2 patients a few years older than me who have ovarian cancer, and since my mom had it, he was kind of implying he thought this could be related. Then he talked about how if he was a woman he’d do a double-mastectomy, and remove his ovaries. I was like .. um??? What? And then he said, “Let’s just wait for the lab results.” He did not order a CA-125. BUT my cholesterol and blood sugar are excellent. Yeah. I won’t be going back there.

As I sit typing this marginally embarrassing blog post–at the age of 42, I reflect upon my life. I still feel young … though my body says otherwise. Tomorrow, I have a consultation to see if I can get someone to take a gander … up my butt.