Girl Trouble

(Preface: Males, beware. This particular entry is not for those of you who get all squeamish about female anatomy. Read on at your own risk.)

Remember when you defined "old" as anybody who is twenty years older than you? When you're age ten, thirty seems really old; when you're twenty, it's forty; et cetera. When I was a teenage girl, the concept of menopause was as foreign and obscure to me as ancient Indonesian folk tales. In other words, I had no clue.

Fast-forward to my mid-thirties, when God pronounced me fit to marry and have a family. I remember frowning at the note on my obstetrician's chart which identified me as being of "advanced maternal age". Advanced maternal age? I was 34, for crying out loud, not ready for AARP!

Moving ahead again to age 37, when my second baby expanded my waistline to a personal best record for diameter, my belly button popped out like a Butterball turkey. This description is much more appealing than the more clinically appropriate "umbilical hernia" nomenclature. Just the word "hernia" makes me laugh. Herrrrr--neee--yah. HAHAHAHA!

And now, eleven years later, my hahah-ha-hernia has split open some more and I'm going to have surgery next week to fix it. To add insult to injury, the miracles of modern health science have revealed some impressive new cysts in my nether regions. Why is it that these are always described in proportion to fruit sizes? I am apparently sporting a peach and a tangerine...thank God there's no watermelon.

So next week two surgeons are going to yank out my ovaries and zip up my belly button. Today the doctor explained to me that I will immediately move into surgical menopause after the procedure. MENOPAUSE? I thought that only happened to older women! (Hey, wait a minute...what was that definition of "old" again?)

Seeing that I was getting all teary and cranky over this whole idea, the doctor pointed out the good news...I get to skip all the hot flashes and mood swings and cold sweats and hairy cheeks that go along with regular menopause. So there's that to be happy about.

Under additional pressure to yield all information, the doc did admit that there was a possibility of the big C in all of this but that we won't know until after the plumbing job is complete and the busted parts have been evaluated.

Whaddaya do with THAT piece of info? Nothing. I'm not worrying, I'm not kvetching, I'm actually just kind of fine. You see, my God has got this all under control - and always has. If it's "bad", then He is with me, and if it's "good", then He is with me. Right now, it's in the "who knows" phase, so what's the point in spazzing out anyway? It's a bridge not yet crossed.

And I know beyond all doubt that He will cross the bridge with me. Me and my old lady self.