Dear Last Ovary Remaining Inside (Lori):
I know the last several years have been rough, Lori.
It all started when my uterus – she who represented life, motherhood, and the possibilities of new beginnings – tried to kill me. Oh, I know it wasn’t intentional (at least I hope not)! She was getting older and perhaps the knowledge that she would never nurture another fetus just pushed her over the edge. Or perhaps she was just forgetful in her old age and no longer comprehended that she was supposed to either keep to a schedule or retire quietly. Regardless, the constant hemorrhaging and the refusal to comply, even with the help of medication, forced me to consider more drastic actions and finally take the bitch out. I would be lying if I said there wasn’t a sense of relief that I didn’t have to deal with her unpredictable behavior anymore. A sense of freedom, you know? It’s really one of the best decisions I ever made, but I understand that it left a large void for you and your twin. For more than 45 years, you had grown use to the company, the warmth, the symbiotic relationship with a vital part of your team – and suddenly she was gone.
I tend to think it was harder on your sister than it was on you, Lori. I mean, surveillance had shown that she was acting up even before mother uterus was removed from the picture! But she was rebelling quietly and not hurting me in the process. I knew – more than anyone – that rebellion and challenging the status quo is a necessary part of growing and finding one’s true self, so I let her be for several years. But her growing just didn’t stop! At first, her outbursts were sporadic and, while not pleasant, I could tolerate them. Then – perhaps it was the added stress of my marriage falling apart, or maybe she was just tired of performing when there was nowhere for the product of her hard work to go, or she might have been angry because I hadn’t been paying attention to her tantrums – but, Lori – your twin lost it! She became ugly and bloated and seemed to enjoy causing me torment. I think when she heard me tell the doctor that I wanted her removed from the premises, permanently, she decided to go out in a blaze of glory instead of just waiting for her fate. What else could explain her decision to twist and roll until she had cut off her own life support and caused me unimaginable pain? By the time the doctor reached her, she was black and rotting – a corrupt version of her former smooth and alabaster self.
I have to tell you, Lori, I admire how you carry on despite the loss of your sister. You keep trying to push those slightly withered eggs through your tough outer shell. And I know you tried valiantly to step up and pump out all of the hormones I needed once your twin was gone. It wasn’t your fault that it just wasn’t enough – I put the blame squarely on my ex, who left right after your sister self-terminated. Oh, the hot flashes were something I could have dealt with – but those uncontrollable, volatile emotions that hit just at the time I needed my wits about me? Well, something had to be done – you see that, right? That tiny pill I take nightly doesn’t make you redundant – it barely provides any hormones at all – you are still a vital part of the operation, Lori!
Which is why I don’t understand your recent actions.
Last summer when you made your unhappiness known, I could feel the ache, intensely. I just couldn’t go through a repeat of your sister’s drama. I immediately consulted the doctor and told him to stand by, just in case you needed to be evicted. It wasn’t an idle threat, Lori – I can’t abide hostility and negativity in my life anymore. I don’t need pain or chaos when I’m striving for tranquility. I’m sure you understand and you must have heard my resolve, because you settled down right away. I certainly appreciated it – because I want you around! Really!
But now – nearly a year later – to act up again? It’s inconceivable to me! And your timing couldn’t be worse!
You know that I’ve been planning this weekend away for a while. There is going to be pleasant company, interesting sights, beautiful hiking, and long soaks in hot springs. Are you worried that your neighbor, Vajayjay, might be having some fun while you are relegated to the lonely darkness? Are you jealous??? Let me set you straight, Lori – Vajayjay has been lonely longer than you have been missing your sister. If she has the chance for some interaction with a friend, I say more power to her! That’s not to say that is what is going to happen this weekend – I’m just saying that if it did, you have no right to begrudge her the opportunity! Are we clear??
I have to give you credit, Lori – you usually are so calm that I didn’t even immediately suspect you were the one causing problems. I’ve come to expect that other residents are not always going to behave. My bladder, for instance – she’s not malicious, of course, but she just doesn’t have the support she needs anymore, so she gets a little depressed and droopy. And she is so mercurial! One moment she is doing her job, holding things in well, and the next, with the slightest provocation or excitement, she gets a bit spastic and…well, there is no other way to say it…she leaks! It’s annoying, but I’ve at least started my bladder on a fitness regimen that I think will help her out. I want you to understand, Lori, that I’m willing to try other avenues before resorting to drastic measures.
When I first started having pain yesterday, I really thought the problem was Colon. I mean, he’s often been irritable in the past and he is always so full of shit! I thought I was giving him what he needed by eating more fiber – but when the cramping hit – I wondered if consuming two butternut squashes in four days had been a bit excessive.
But I quickly realized that it wasn’t Colon who was causing me grief – if he was full of air (or squash in this case), the pain would have migrated or subsided after a bit. It’s been more than twelve hours and the torment continues, only lessened to tolerable levels through the ingestion of copious amounts of ibuprofen and the application of nearly scorching heat.
No, it’s not Colon – it’s you, Lori.
I’m willing to let bygones be bygones and to forgive this lapse if it does not reoccur. But let me set you straight as clearly as I possibly can.
Cut it out, Lori – before I cut YOU out. Capiche?