This afternoon, in the middle of a new game I like to call, “put new clothes in the shopping cart but don’t actually get out the credit card and buy anything,” the phone rang. Just in the timbre of the ring, I could tell my GYN. I answered the phone hesitantly. “Hello, may I speak with Miri, please?” my GYN asked. “Speaking,” I heard myself say, even though I wanted to pretend I was anywhere but on the phone with this very person at this very minute. “Miri, it is Dr. India. How are you feeling after the biopsies?” Both she and I knew that wasn’t the reason she called, yet she continued with the guise. “Where are you now, Miri? At work? Can you talk?” My stomach begins to eat at itself so I can really FEEL my anxiety. I assure her that yes, I can talk, and yes, I am sitting down. “The biopsy was benign. However, it did show endometriois.”. Twenty-five years ago, when I first heard of the angry disease that is endometriosis, I would have cried if I with that diagnosis. Today, it was the most beautiful word I’ve heard!
Now, all things surgical can progress according to the originally planned robot assisted surgery. I really, really hope Rosie from The Jetsons is available. If she’s busy, how about Data from Star Trek: TNG. I’d even go with C3PO. But not R2D2. Why, you ask? Because R2D2 has no hands.