You should see my phone bill....

Well, some times it just sucks to be right.


Today was one of those days. Remember how I said yesterday that the cyst would still be there, hanging out, eating my food, calling Nepal? Just got the phone bill and man, is it a doozie.


Yep, the cyst is still there. Loud and proud and not ready to make nice. So needless to say, it wasn't much of a surprise to me to hear the doc report it to her sidekick. I just sighed, as best I could with the ole legs up in the stirrups, and told myself that sometimes it does indeed suck to be right.


I knew great things weren't in store this morning as soon as I arrived at the clinic. They had my name on the list - but someone crossed it off. Never a good thing in the medical world. If you're crossed off, someone did it for a reason. If you're crossed off, there's no requisition for your blood work, and no one's waiting for you over at ultrasound. If you're crossed off, worst of all - you're always someone else's problem.


They finally figured out what had happened (since the clinic is in my building, I just came in on Monday morning to book today's appointment, the one they'd told me to make if aunt flo didn't show up within four weeks. I was supposed to call, not come in. Apparently I totally botched their entire system. Grrrrrr...) and allowed me my morning poke. Goodie.


To make what could easily be a very long story short, there is light at the end of this lumpy tunnel. When I heard back about my blood work, I was told that it's okay to go ahead and start taking the Provera to bring on a new cycle because my cyst is no longer producing estrogen. Lazy, no good cyst. Not even working for a living. Maybe I should name it Sludge....hehehe.


Oh how funny I am. What a clever segue that was!! But in fact, I can't even make that joke anymore. She actually has a job. That's right my dear readers - Sludge herself is once again attempting to pass for a productive member of society. Sorry, I should have warned you before I typed that. I hope it didn't hurt too much as you fell off your chair just then.


Crazy, isn't it? Watch out PharmaPlus customers....double count your change.


Ooooo, that was mean, no? Meh, I'm over it.


In other news, I officially created my Tuesday Night Distraction Club on Facebook. I will do anything and everything I can to ensure that I never spend another minute confronted with grown men pretending to be elves...unless of course it's Christmas and we elect to engage in some weird dress up sex fantasy where I get to play a very bossy Mrs. Claus.


I suspect that's more than you wanted to know. Sorry about that.


Anywhoo, I'm rather excited to have my very own group, and look forward to a plethora of exciting Tuesday night activities in the city, especially now that summer's here and the patios are singing their siren song. Who am I to resist? Thank goodness I'll have company...a good diva should never drink alone.


One last note before I leave you this evening (I'm at my sister's place watching the hockey game - and her son, yeah, watching her son too - while she and her husband go to a movie). Hard to believe, but this is my 100th post. Amazing how time flies! So much we have shared, my lovely readers. Thanks for sticking by me through thick (endometrial linings) and thin (or trying to get there, at least).


It really does make a difference knowing that you're out there and reading the in's and out's of my rather mundane life. Makes it feel just that wee bit less mundane, ya know?


Looking forward to exploring a second century's worth of life and laughs with you. And if you see that cyst, kick its ass for me, will ya? I'd really rather keep on truckin' without it.


And that's your 100th daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Back on the horse

Well, the time has come. It's time to step out of the shadows and blink dazedly into the light that is this whole baby making business.

That's right - it's been four weeks since that vile cyst invaded my ovary and threw me into a tizzy, and it's time to go back and see what's become of the little bastard.

With any luck it's long gone, cast out by hormones or destroyed by forces I can't even begin to want to understand. With MY luck, it's probably still there - hanging out, eating all my food and making long distance calls to Nepal on my phone line. 'Cause I sure haven't had much luck along the way.

It's funny - last time I went in I was so hopeful, so excited at the prospect of having a real shot. The idea of a cyst never even crossed into the realm of possibility in my mind - ah, how ignorance can truly be bliss - so I was, as you may recall, ill prepared for the news I was to receive that day.

This time, well, fuck it.

The great cosmic joke player in the sky has proven to me that it is indeed possible for things to get worse, so I've decided to subscribe to the Lowered Expectations (cue music here) school of thought for this and future medical appointments.

I figure hell, if I don't expect anything, I can't be disappointed when I get absolutely nothing. You see, that was my problem before...I was so hopeful (and since you all know my stance on hope I won't bore you by repeating it) that the news, when it came, was devastating.

This time I will expect the unexpected. I am in the process of brainwashing myself (a surprisingly difficult task) that the cyst will still be there and will therefore push us even further off course. That I might not even get my sacred Provera prescription to bring on another cycle - that nature needs more time to take its course and we'll be pushed back into August before we have another shot at conception.

This way, anything else hedging towards positive news is cause for all out celebration. What would have been normal in the past will (if it actually happens - gotta keep working on that brainwashing) now become such incredible progress!!! Look how happy we are! Forward momentum!

Ah, attitude really is everything, eh? Nobody said it had to be a positive one.

So as with many things, only time will tell what the immediate future has in store for us. Cross your fingers that it's a future free from cysts and that there are drugs there too, will ya?

Ah, the things we wish for as we get older. From puppies to Barbies to dates with boys to left hand bling to disease-free reproductive organs. God, what's next - my nipples to stay above my belly button? Oh wait...too bloody late.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

To cheer or not to cheer?

So all my fellow Canuks out there know tonight is Ottawa's first game in the Stanley Cup playoffs. It's fantastic to see a Canadian team actually in serious contention for the hardware in what many acknowledge to be Canada's game.

Too bad they're not the Leafs.

I'm a diehard Leafs fan. Yes, despite the gross grammatical error that is their name, I bleed Leafs blue. Despite the many, many, many disappointments over the years - I still beleaf.

Which is why I'm so torn at this very moment.

If you know hockey, if you give a damn at all, then you bloody well know Ottawa and Toronto are rivals. Bitter. We kinda hate them. But that's okay - they hate us right back.

And this works for us. We like, nay love, the Battles of Ontario and it is just so sad to know that you'll never see Ottawa versus Toronto in any Stanley Cup finals since we're in the same danged conference. Ugh.

Traditionally the Leafs have bounced the Sens right out of the playoffs but this year...uh, kinda hard to do when *gulp* Toronto didn't even make it.

Again. Sigh...

So what's a Leafs fan to do? Respect the rivalry and cheer for whoever the hell has the ability to take down our archenemies? Or suck it up and cheer for the Canadian team 'cause hey - national pride is thicker than blue water?

Dunno, folks. Dunno.

Further complicating matters for me is the fact that CJ, my BFF, is a HUGE Sens fan. I've forgiven her this 15 year error in judgment and we've simply agreed to disagree but man oh man. Her team hits the finals and mine hits the golf course. I can (sadly) only imagine how excited she must be to have her team slugging it out in the final round.

But never has there been such a disparity in results, and I'm kinda at a loss for how to handle the whole thing.

You see, it USED to be me taking the moral high road after my Leafs had throughly trounced her Sens in round one, maybe two. I'd cheer for my team, gently rib her and her team, but would gracefully enjoy the Leafs victory. That I could do. I was good at it.

This? This is completely foreign territory to me, and like a hillbilly having high tea with the queen, I just might not know how to behave properly in this, an unfamiliar state. Not that I'm equating myself with a hillbilly or, heaven forbid, the Sens with flippin royalty, but I thought it illustrated my point well.

So I sit here, watching the game, loving that the Sens are actually winning but hating myself for cheering for them. I feel like I'm betraying myself - my, what fascinating internal conflict I create for myself! Sheesh.

I guess it's okay for me to cheer for these bastards. I mean it IS the closest any Canadian team has come in years, so that in and of itself should suffice for this patriotic diva.

But why then do I feel so dirty? Must be the thought of that slimebucket Alfredsson in his stinky playoff socks. Shudder...

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?