1.
You’ve developed a pain in your left abdomen when you roll over in bed. First it was a pinch, but now it’s like a tiny hook snagging on your insides, resisting your tossing and turning.
Sometimes you dream that you’ve swallowed a toothpick. It sneaks down with a bite of sandwich, then it skewers itself into place somewhere in your intestines. The toothpick does not like being disturbed. So, you lay flat-backed and wide-eyed after you wake up, scared to wiggle and upset your delicate equilibrium.
What do you do?
A. Go to your family doctor. See step 2.
B. Pain happens. Wait a few weeks. Go to step 4.
C. You’ve waited three months. Go to step 5.
2.
The doctor asks your height and weight, then pushes his cold fingers into your tummy like you’re made of playdough. “You’re bloated,” he says, giving your midsection a little jab. Your stomach ripples like a waterbed. Bloop bloop bloop.
“You might need to pass some gas, or it could be hormones. Menstrual cramps can also be very difficult for some women.” He offers you anti-nausea medication to help.
Possible side effects include:
Headache
Lightheadedness
Drowsiness
Constipation
Diarrhea
Fever
What do you do?
A. Take the prescription and leave. Go back to step 1.
B. If this is your second+ visit to this doctor, you may receive an abdominal MRI. Go to step 3.
3.
The doctor sends you for an abdominal MRI. The metal tube growls around you like a mechanical dragon with an empty belly. A voice over the intercom reminds you not to shiver as you’re being digested.
The doctor calls you next week with the results. “All is well, nothing to report. If you’re still having problems, try adding some fiber to your diet. Get things moving in there.”
What do you do?
A. Buy some fiber pills. Go back to step 1.
4.
The pain gets worse. You start to feel it when you stand up and sit down. It pokes you when you reach across the stovetop to grab a spatula. At work, you excuse yourself to the bathroom to dry-swallow painkillers in the comfort of your own stall.
Other people—friends, your sister— have started to comment on your stiffness. You feel silly explaining yourself, so you don’t.
What do you do?
A. Go to the doctor. See step 2.
B. Everyone has some amount of pain. Wait longer. Go back to step 1.
5.
Now it’s time for your annual gyno exam.
Mothers-to-be cradle their baby bumps around you in the waiting room. Your toothpick nudges you, and you curl your arms around your tummy.
They bring you back, and before sliding the metal tongs up inside, the gyno asks if anything is concerning you. You don’t have a chance to answer before the chilly forceps plunge in.
What do you say?
A. “I have some pain. It’s probably a four, on a scale of one to ten. Childbirth is a ten right? I don’t think it’s nearly that bad.” Go to step 6.
B. “Yes, I have a searing pain on my left side.” Skip to step 7.
6.
“Would you like to try birth control?” she asks. “It can help control pelvic pain.”
Possible side effects include:
Nausea
Bleeding
Headaches
Weight Gain
Sore Breasts
Acne
Mood Changes
Anxiety
Depression
What do you say?
A. “Sure.” Go to step 4.
B. “No, thank you.” Head back to step 1.
7.
She sends you for an ultrasound down the hall. In the meantime, she calls your family doctor for his notes. “I have an old MRI report,” she says. “It says you had five—” (five!) “—cysts on your ovaries. He says he recommended you see your gynecologist?” It’s posed as a question, but it sounds like an accusation.
“He—no. He said I was fine.”
“Are you sure?”
Now the ultrasound has news. It’s a cyst the size of an egg—maybe an orange, it’s hard to tell for sure—hanging off your left ovary. Those pains you felt were your ovary writhing under the weight. A twisted ovary will kill you.
Make arrangements and call off work, she says, because you need a laparoscopy to remove it. “It’s unfortunate you couldn’t have made it here sooner.”
What do you do?
A. Get cut open. (End)
Melinda Scully is a fiction writer and associate corporate strategy director based in Dallas, Texas. Besides writing, her skill sets include math, competitive swing dancing, and spreadsheets. She is also working towards her MFA in creative writing at the University of British Columbia, and her work has been published by The Normal School and Cleaver Magazine. You can find her on LinkedIn or on Instagram/Twitter @melindascully.
Photo by Sandra Muralha from Pexels