****Mom, if you're reading this, please stop now and go back to Facebook.****
****Rik, you too. I don't want you to be embarrassed (of me, not for me).****
If you're reading this post, you probably already know I had surgery last week to see if I had endometriosis and while they were down there, they also did a hysteroscopy and a tiny biopsy. I ended up with four small incisions on my abdomen, each one probably half an inch long.
Yesterday, I noticed my lower, left incision was a little inflamed and slightly angry. I had some burning sensations and it was more sore than it had been the previous few days. When I felt of it, it felt like a really hard lump had formed underneath the skin and it really
grossed freaked me out. So, I did what any smart, resourceful person would do and Google'd "lump under laparoscopic incision". This resulted in me calling my RE's office lickety-split. The four options that were bestowed upon me were: hernia, hematoma, infection, scar tissue.
I left the nurse a message about my lump, trying to remember to also leave the 64 pieces of personal information they require with each and every message. After a half an hour or so, Nurse Rachel called me back and wanted to ask a few additional questions. I got up, crossed my office and pushed the door almost closed for a little privacy. ("The Man" doesn't like us to close our office doors and cell phones are frowned upon in the establishment - but this was serious, so I broke the rules.) The conversation went like this:
Me: Hi Rachel! Thank you for calling me back so quickly!
R: You're welcome, what's going on?
Me: Well, I have this lump thing that has formed under my left incision.
R: It is painful?
Me: Yes, more than it was yesterday and Monday.
R: It is oozing any kind of fluid?
Me (a little woozily): No, I don't think so. Let me check.
So, being in a dress and all, I turned my back to the door (such a lady), stood behind my chair and pulled my dress up to check.
Me: No, it's not oozy.
R: Ok, is there a fever to it? Is it hot?
I hiked up my dress again to feel with the back of my hand, then decided I'd better compare that feeling to how the other side felt. So, I put the phone between my shoulder and my ear so I could use both hands. I couldn't tell a huge difference, so I went back and forth a few times rather quickly to compare. Naturally, I was a little bent over so I could see, hold the phone AND feel my incisions for signs of "fever".
It was exactly at this point that I realized if any of the attorneys or, God forbid, my male boss walked in, they would see me from the back, with both hands up my dress, moving one of my arms back and forth rather quickly, hunched over, whispering into the phone and it would look exactly like I was pleasuring myself.
I don't think I've ever moved so fast in my life.
I removed my hands, released my dress and turned around to face the door in about .0000000000002 seconds.
Me: Nope, no fever, all good! I think we're good!
Ugh....You just have NO idea the relief I feel that no one made an appearance in my office during those brief minutes when I was NOT pleasuring myself.