My first oral presentation for class was last night. I think it went well, although it's all kind of a blur. But most importantly, it's over. Now I can worry about other things.
Last Wednesday I had my annual girly-doctor visit. I have noticed that there does seem to be a trend for bloggers to discuss rather personal aspects of their lives, so in an attempt to not disappoint my two and a half readers, I shall now consider a foray into such lands. Because of a family history of ovarian cancer, my doctor had my blood drawn for testing and had me set up an appointment for a sonogram the following day. I've seen those baby-having shows on TV where the mom has goo squirted on her tummy and they roll the thing around picking up a nice fuzzy picture of her innards.
My expectations were, of course, shattered when I showed up for my sono and heard the word "internal." Huh? Your putting that probe where? Granted, the images on the screen were entertaining for the first minute, but that got boring after a while.
When she was done, the technician says to me that my uterus looks good and my right ovary looks good, but that I have a cyst on my left ovary. "I don't want you to worry," she said. "Women get cysts all the time."
Fine, I had plenty of other things to worry about (like standing up in front of 37 people and making a complete fool out of myself), so worry, I did not. Then yesterday I got a letter from the doctor's office requesting that I call to set up another sono in two months (oh, goody). But heck, I'm still not going to worry because I do better worrying about the little insignificant things in life.
Like the darn upcoming poster project.