Do you want me to call your priest?

When someone asks “Do you want me to call your priest?”, as a new Catholic, it’s still sounds more like a threat to me than a helpful question. Particularly, in my instance, I did NOT want the priest called. I was having a little work done.

Yeah, when I told people in person, “I’m having elective surgery.” I explained it that way so they didn’t freak out that I had cancer or something. I’m trying to spare their emotions and what do I get in return? A glance at my saggy A’s and “Oh, you’re finally getting that done! Whew!” Uh no, I’m having surgery done, uh… elsewhere.

For explanation sake, and for the man crowd out there, I’ll explain as gently as possible. I’m breaking up with Aunt Flow. And, yes, you can do that. For obvious health reasons, once you do that, it’s a pretty good idea to have your tubes tied. And thus, “No, thank you, I’ll notify my priest myself.”

For the record “My Priest” passed away last year. I would have asked his blessing, no problem. He was a wise and spiritual soul and he was in the family. I miss him dearly because I know I would not have been judged by him on my decisions, particularly this one. I should probably give the benefit of the doubt that other priests aren’t there to judge either, but still, I didn’t have a priest called.

I’m recovering just brilliantly, in case you wondered. I’ll spare you the details. I did get a good crowd upon waking up from the surgery. “Leslie, wake up, you’re in the recovery room.” I tried to open my eyes. I asked what time it was, “10:30”. I’d been napping for 3 solid hours and so I needed to explain, “Dude…those were the best drugs EVER!” They giggled of course. And then I passed out again and took full advantage of them.

Remember when I said, I’d spare you the details? I lied. Stop here if you’re weak-stomached….Okay, we’re all clear? When I was pregnant, Ricardo tagged me with the proud title of having a “Uterus of Steel”. We were having twins, and so we’d hope they’d stay in there full-term. Doctors and books said they’d be early and preemies. Clearly, they had no idea about my ability to defy science as we know it. So, we’d hope with a little “Wonder twins activate! In the form of: A Uterus!” Yes, I laughed a lot while pregnant. The term date (36 weeks) for twins came and went. Those suckers were happy and healthy and NOT coming out. I had to bounce on a yoga ball in an effort to let gravity take effect. At 38 ½ weeks, I finally went into labor. Upon delivery, the super-uterus would not go down. I WILL spare you those details, but really, it was like the guy at the gym who won’t stop flaunting…my uterus was showing off. This time, when they went in for this procedure, doctor came out to tell Ricardo, “everything went fine, but her uterus wouldn’t stop contracting. I’ve never seen anything like this. We had to try the procedure 4 times before it would work.” Atta girl Utie! We’re both so proud.

***I was undecided on whether to out myself about this actual procedure. I mean, it IS pretty personal and all. But, if you’ve had children, or even an annual, you’ll know that more people have been to visit my uterus than this blog. Heh heh. Ultimately, this blog is based on the chronicles of ironies and funnies of motherhood. This was definitely a part of motherhood, the uterus, the nap, the work done, and the tubes tied. So I opted to divulge.
That’s how I roll.