Yo yo yo and a bottle of rum!

Yesterday was my sexy egg collection operartion. I am currently lying in bed 'recovering', as my ovaries are now bruised and the size of GRAPEFRUITS (No exaggerations, they're the exact words of the doctor...) which is rather a lot larger than normal. A LOT. It doesn't hurt as long as I stay perfectly still... Which, for those of you who know me, is quite a large scale challenge. Especially as I am on a matress, containing springs, hence perfectly designed for BOUNCING. Non-Ovary WIN.

So, I suppose you will want to know all the gory details of how my reproductive organs became a delicious Jamaican fruit. It all started with my anger at not being allowed any breakfast. For me, this was by far the most traumatising part of cancer. I have eaten breakfast every single day since I was born. People who don't eat it are dangerous, scary and should probably be shot. I then get to the clinic, where I have to sign forms saying I am not in fact a kiddy killer, and am given an oh so seductive gown to put on. Somehow I manage to not stab any staff with my hunger related anger. I am then confused by a nurse who claims to be 35 but doesn't look a day past 25 and has realllllllllllllllllllllllllllly open eyes that must let in a lot of light to see all the health and stuff. I wait...

Then the doctor comes in. I am impressed by his surgical headgear, instead of the usual green, it's printed with multicoloured dancing bears. This reassures me I am in safe hands. I hand him my copy of ABC's Best Of and he admits he didn't have me down as an ABC fan... (If you're wondering why I was exchanging CDs at such a seemingly inappropriate moment, then you will be pleased to hear you can choose what music is played in theatre... I though ABC because they hail from Sheffield, and I need to train my eggs to like sequins from an early age... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FcchCQuXrH8 There's a link for the uneducated!). Then, through to the theatre...

Get in. Two nurses are needed to get all my mental hair into a hairnet. One of them reveals she had cancer too. Cancer club!

*INTIMATE LADY DETAILS FOLLOW*

Sedative. Little effect. Gas. More of an effect. Not enough. Still painful. Doctor puts speculum up vagina, I nearly scream. Fairly sure this is due to the fact that every other woman who gets this op is older and has a considerabley more saggy vagina than mine... It has not been stretched and deformed nearly as much, still lovely and taught. That sounds a little too much like an advert for prostitute Constanze. Moving swiftly on, the collection from the right ovary is completely painless. The left one however is rather 'mobile', meaning a nurse has to puch down on my abdomen to try and control the bugger. That hurt more, but still not a lot lot. Compared to my legs. BUT THEY HURT NOW. My ovaries, that is, left a lot more than right. Not friends with my left ovary.

And out of theatre. 15 eggs collected in all... Unforunatley 2 were immature and have been laid to rest. I then set upon naming them all...

Our fallen comrades...

Fig
Polywhirl

And my survivours!

Piccolo
Pickle
Poached
Scrambled
Boiled
Scotch
Fried
Nicky (As a birthday present for the wonderful Nick Sillett!)
Electromag
Horatio

SHIT. I have forgotten the rests' names... These eggs are definitely better off going to medical science, if that's any sign of the kind of mother I''ll be...

I am also in the process of being annoyed at how much hospital there is this week. Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday. That is a lot of days. Today I had another eye test. It took 15 minutes. Drove one hour there and one hour back for that. Grr at living nowhere near anything. But... But. But hopefully after next week it'll just be once a week on Thor's day. Then I shall be made of win. Uberwin, in the words of Joseph Eckworth.

Marc mad me Chilli Con Carne on Sunday. It was there I met the love of my life. Sacha, his name is, with big beautiful eyes and silky grey fuzz... Bestiality is not a crime.

Now, I am off for a wash. To make me ovaries be quiet. It's that or I throw them out. And that would not be pretty.

xXXxXXx