Saturday, July 14: Just the normal bathroom cramp this morning, and it's not bad. Maybe I'm getting better. I take Geronimo for his morning walk, then jump in the shower. A veritable mother of a cramp grabs hold of me midway through the shampoo. If the ones I'd been having before were 5 or 6 on a scale of 10, this one was a 7, easy. Tears leaking from my eyes, I crawl out, dripping, and stretch out on the bed until the pain passes, then get dressed for my appointment. I admit - I'm scared.
She isn't a doctor after all. She is a certified nurse/midwife. Kindness must be her middle name. She reviews the symptoms with me, and shakes her head in sympathy. "Let me take a look." She does a pelvic exam, and her movements are smooth. "Everything seems normal," she says. "We'll do a few more test next week after your period is finished. But since you are peri-menopausal, this might just be normal for a woman your age." She advises me to keep taking the Ibuprofin as needed. We schedule a pap test and ultrasound the following week, and I'm out the door.
I go back home and pick up Geronimo, pack for the weekend on the boat, and head out. About 20 minutes into the 2 hour trip, the cramp starts inching back. And I feel bruised inside from the poking of the pelvic exam. It wasn't bad while she was doing it, but now my insides are all a jumble. We pull off the highway for a few moments, then I turn the car around and head home. Dayton is disappointed when I call him. "So you're not coming out at all?" "No," I say in a voice that is way too shakey. "I'm afraid to drive."
Off the phone, Geronimo and I curl up together in bed, and I sleep for 5 hours. Blessed sleep, cramp-free.
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