Thursday, October 30, 2003

Changing My Entire Life

More on the "want to have a baby" front. If you don't want to know, stop now.

Went to the specialist today to discuss having the fibroids removed from my uterus. This won't be the simple procedure that my doctor described -- no laproscopy. First, there is more than one tumor and they are deep in the walls of the uterus. Oh joy. Second, they actually pull the uterus OUT of the body to do this! While I appreciated the doctor's frankness, it was just not a mental picture I really wanted.

Third, I must lose weight, both because of my dificulties with anesthesia and because it will make the surgery easier and I'll heal faster. Well, I knew I had to lose weight one way or another. I suppose this is a sufficient kick in the ass.

I'm still game for it. I still think I want a child. I keep trying to talk myself out of it -- I mean, my life will NOT end if I do not have a child of my own and no one is pressuring me. I just keep coming back to "This is something I'd like to do." In my head, I have conversations with my imaginary child. I think of how I want to be, what I want to do and say. It doesn't go away like it used to.

There's one thing I'm really admanant about though. I do NOT want a histerectomy. I am not at all a fan of the idea that my pieces and parts are removable and interchangeable. No no no, if I was born with it, I'd like to keep it until I die, thankyouverymuch. Even if the surgery doesn't go so well, I want them to just put everything back where they got it and stitch me up.

It isn't the being pregnant part that bothers me. It's the thought of going to sleep and letting some one else cut open my body and do whatever they think is best. I don't have that much trust. I'm not casual about this. I cannot make myself believe that a doctor really sees me as more than my problem-at-the-moment. That doctor won't be around when the other problems crop up. That really bothers me. Intensely. No, bother is much too light a word. How about "horrifies me"? How about "fucking scares the shit out of me and all my ancestors"? Yeah, that almost encompasses it.


I've got a popup blocker running (Google Toolbar). It works pretty well, but some popups sneak through. What's really annoying, though, are popups with soundtracks. I'll be sitting online, looking at a site or typing in this weblog, and suddenly I'm HEARING an ad. I just HEARD a preview spot for the upcoming movie "Elf" -- a movie I so do not want to see that I think I'd pay $5 for someone to see it for me if I could be guaranteed I'd never be exposed to an ad, a preview, a soundbite, or any market item related to that movie, much less any portion of the movie including outtakes and still photos. I don't even want to think about Bob Newhart being in that movie. I used to like him.

Is no where safe?


Tonight, the Dicken's Reader's Theatre group (to which I belong) is doing a presentation of Edgar Allen Poe. Hey, it's Halloween, what do you expect? I'm reading an excerpt from "The Pit and the Pendulum", having been relieved of the more tedious "The Bells" when the person who picked "Pit" realized she didn't have the whatever to read it. Without the slightest bit of modesty I will announce that I have a damn fine reading voice. I'm not that wild about my speaking voice, but when I read, it is better. Hell, my singing voice is supposedly quite good, but I don't really TRULY think it sounds that wonderful. Of course, what I hear is not what others hear, and even when I hear myself recorded, it isn't really the same. I hear a rather thick, syrupy voice -- not sweet, no, my tone is too low for that -- but a thick, slightly rough edged speaking voice unless I'm really controlling my tone, in which case I get this deep, sort of breathy sound.

I suppose hearing your own voice is similar to seeing yourself in a mirror -- nothing ever quite matches up to the you in your head.

No comments: