So many of you know I have a love obsession with my gyno. No, not because of how he touches me or anything perverted like that, though he is, very gentle :) He's been a rock for me during my pregnancies and the onset of the psycho'ness that my ex-husband exhibited. He was there when I was scared, sick, silly, and at times slightly stupid. I've told people their needs to be a shrine for Dr. M. I wouldn't erect it, I'm not a shrine builder, but I'd regularly visit it. Don't worry folks, I don't make up problems just to go see him or drop by the office all stalker like. I absolutely do believe that people do practice this behavior.
I seriously wouldn't have another child if Dr. M wasn't practicing. How many Drs do you have that call you at home? Well Dr. M and I email funny little tidbits and when he got divorced I was definitely included in the, "know."
How did he earn his God-Like status? I guess it was because he got me through two high-risk pregnancies. The crazier Will got, the more supportive Dr. M became. I appreciate his dry sense of humor and educated mind. Picture Brian Williams, now that's my idea of hot.
Anyhoo, for 16-17 years I've been probed with the lovely dildo cam to help diagnosis the cause of my pelvic pain. I've been through it all sister. The pelvics, catscans, dildo cams, exploratory surgeries, pain meds, stirrups, small tiny little drapes that barely cover my thighs. I finally have my collection of diagnosis: Endometriosis, Ovarian Cysts, Pelvic Floor Dysfunction.
God no wonder when I tell people I have an angry vagina they freak. I sure wish my vagina could go to counseling. Since vagina's don't talk, (or at least mine doesn't,) Dr. M has decided it would be beneficial for me to shove a valium up my vag, nightly. Of course I laughed in his face when he first told me this. And then I was pretty giggly when he was saying I may need to go to physical therapy, and my personal favorite, getting the script filled at the pharmacy and watching the tech's reactions. Here's the deal. I'm willing to talk about my valium vag because I absolutely believe their are plenty of other women suffering from debilitating pain. Maybe if I had a job where I sat at a desk, maybe then I'd be fine, but my ADHD would prevent this from actually occuring. Oh, you haven't figured out that I have ADHD? I blame the pregnancies. I have definitely become less intelligent over the years. I read way too many mom blogs and spend time with beings that don't know how or can't communicate: babies, dogs, blissed out massage clients, men with emotional constipation. I'm way too social of a person so my blog is my outlet.
So much shit happens daily that I want to tell people about. Let's just say their's no way in hell I'd have a paper journal for fear of my ex somehow finding it. I trust that he's not experienced with blogger and perhaps doesn't even know the word, so this for me, here, is safety. I don't want this to be a place where I dwell, but rather laugh at the things I can't change, or just laugh at life in general because it's hysterical. Things that I may talk about: my boys, my dogs, my bipolar narcassitic ex-husband, my friends, my vagina, my pituitary gland, Gavin DeGraw, the hot coffee boy at Dutch Brothers, Neon Trees, vacuuming, migraines, my mom power squad, poop, eating disorders, long haired trolls, french black labs, playgrounds, stars, wishes and dreams. For now, please pass me the fucking valium.
