Now that it’s over and it looks like it’s gonna be pretty okay, I will tell you that I’ve just had the darkest three months of my life.

In October, I was finally getting over my concussion from my car accident, and things were going well. I was having fun at work, going to my trainer, getting over the screaming fear of a car slamming into the back of me. Things were good.

Then I started to feel like I had a UTI. (I know I’ve told you some of this but then I got scared and clammed up.)

For me, when I feel a urinary tract infection—and I’m assuming every woman reading this has had one and the two men who read haven’t—but for me, it feels like I have to pee so bad, I do, then I DO pee and once I’m done I think, Man, I have to pee so bad, I do. It feels like that all the time.

I had to go to the doctor anyway, for my regular checkup. My doctor is big on me coming in 47 times a month, a thing that annoys me. You never leave without her saying, “I want you to come back in [x] weeks.”

Anyway, here was me in the last sedate moment I had all year. Waiting for the doctor. I was just screwing around with my phone and happened to capture it.

“I definitely have a UTI,” I told her, and they had me pee in a cup (a thing I’ve done 4935893504043 times in the last three months). (I’ve gotten really good at it.)

I tested negative. They gave me antibiotics anyway. This made me anxious, because once I had an allergic reaction to penicillin and I always worry my tongue will blow up.

It didn’t. But the UTI didn’t clear up, either. I went back to the doctor. Tested positive for UTI this time.

Next round of antibiotics didn’t work.

I was miserable. I was running to the bathroom every 14 seconds. I was in such agony one day at work that I zipped over to the urgent care on the next block.

That time they found blood in my urine (but no UTI). “Well, if it were bladder cancer, it’d hurt, right?” I was just joking in my June’s-a-nervous-joker type of way.

“I don’t mean to scare you, but this is one of the signs of bladder cancer,” said the snip at urgent care. “You’d best go to your doctor.”

See.

You can’t say shit like that to me. You can’t. Because that was in mid November, and since then I have become a urologist specializing in bladder cancer. I know the percentage of times people with asymptomatic microscopic hematuria end up having bladder cancer (4%). I know the percentage with gross hematuria who have it (10%) if they’re asymptomatic. Which I wasn’t. I had a symptom that was driving me out of my gourd.

All I did was lie around and Google and work myself into a tizzy. By the time my regular doctor opened the door to the room I was in, I was sobbing. “I just know I have bladder cancer,” I said to her. “Oh, you do not,” she said. But she hadn’t known about the microscopic hematuria, which by the way just means you had blood in your urine that you can’t see but when they test your urine they can.

Anyway, they set me up with a urologist but I couldn’t get in till mid-December. The fever pitch of anxiety I was in was astounding. And I know if you don’t have anxiety—well. I IMAGINE if you don’t have anxiety, because I can’t picture life without it, but I imagine medical scares go like this:

“Well, I’ll see the specialist in a month. For now, I’ll hope for the best.” Then I imagine you making the bed, looking smug and calm.

Oh my god.

I had trouble functioning. I lost 10 pounds. I’d asked my doctor for Xanax, which I only took on very bad nights, but I’d wake up four hours later in a cold panic. And then I’d Google some more.

I had to work every Saturday in November, and it was work I did with dogs and cats, and that was like a blessing from God or something, because it was the only thing that would help me do okay for maybe 20 minutes at a time.

Finally I saw the urologist.

Here I am, waiting for him. Let’s compare the two doctor visits from October to December.

Hey, you cut your hair. And went through the stress machine.

Anyway, the doctor was so reassuring. “The chances of it being bladder cancer are low,” he said. I don’t have the risk factors, and as he said, “Ninety-nine percent of the time, people SEE blood in their urine first.” I didn’t correct him that it was 96%.

He gave me some estrogen cream and some papers on being an old lady with a bladder and sent me back to work, where a coworker who had no idea what a tailspin she sent me into asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you SURE?”

Oh my god that sent my anxiety through the roof. Was I sure? Was I?

I kept telling myself it was just one time they saw traces of blood in my urine, out of the 68 times my urine’s been tested. I reminded myself that the doctor said, “If you SEE blood in your urine, come back.”

That Saturday I went to a Christmas show with Marty and Kaye and Jo. I was in particular agony that day. The having-to-pee-all-the-time thing comes and goes in intensity and that day was red letter.

After the show, everyone went to dinner but I went home as I felt rotten. Of course I ran to the bathroom …

and saw blood.

I can’t even describe yet how scared I got. First, there was a helpful numb feeling that lasted maybe an hour. Then I started shaking and I believe I shook until yesterday afternoon.

That meant all of Christmas and New Year’s celebrations, I shook. Like a chihuahua. And I didn’t tell anyone because I didn’t want to ruin Christmas. I made myself go through the Christmas motions. I have this clock my mother sent me: Every hour it chimes a different Christmas carol, and it was like it was mocking me. The cheerful Christmas songs when I was in this black hell.

Finally it got so bad that I took matters in hand. I mean, I couldn’t live like that anymore.

I told myself that so far, the worst part of this whole thing had been my attitude. Yes, peeing ALL THE TIME also sucks, but it was my fear making this intolerable.

I called my friend Paula, not the funny reader Paula but the one in Seattle. She is more scared of medical things than anyone I know, and on her first mammogram ever, which she’d put off for years, they came in and said, “Don’t even get dressed. We found something.”

“How did you deal with the terror?” I asked her one dark December afternoon as I lay in my robe.

“I had to accept it,” she told me. “Those first few months I just fought with everyone, and was belligerent, and once I realized I had to accept the truth of the matter, things got better.”

So I told myself sternly that I just had to wait to get my tests, and accept whatever came after. And you know that helped? I had a few days there where I felt almost normal, other than that Damocles sword of doom hanging over me.

Last week I drove myself to a CT scan in private, then returned to work like I’d just gone out for an errand. Yesterday I drove myself to a cystoscopy, where they drive a tube into your urethra, and if you’re looking for a good time…

Anyway, it turns out I have an ovarian cyst the size of your head. I’ve had it for years–they have records of it from an old scan. And there it still is. It’s a CYST, so please don’t scare the shit out of me with stories, THANK you. I go to my regular doctor next week and we’ll talk about getting it the hell out of me because chances are it’s pressing on my bladder and causing me to feel like this.

So I’m not 100% out of the woods of dark fear yet, but I 100% do not have bladder cancer, and oh my god that got solved so fast. I mean, the CT results came back clear (“Except you DO have an ovarian cyst the size of Guam”) but I knew the real results would come from that cystoscopy. I thought he’d be in there looking around for 15 minutes and I’d have to lie there with my heart thumping, but almost as soon as he was in there with his yellow submarine, he said, “Everything’s looking very normal, June.”

I like him. Also he’s handsome AF. We’ve already gotten to 6th base, where he sees your bladder.

So that’s what’s been new with me and I have some new anxiety-reducing techniques now and thanks, world, for that lesson GOOD GRAVY.

Love,
June and her cyster.

105 thoughts on “Urethra, frankly

  1. Becky0480 says:

    I’m so glad you are ok. It’s so stressful waiting on tests – esp long waits!

    I just had my mammogram (been getting them since 35 due to family history) in Nov. and they called me back for a sonogram. They told me it’s probably nothing so I wasn’t too worried. Then it’s still probably nothing but I need a biopsy. Turns out it is stage 1 triple negative breast cancer. I’m grateful for all these stressful tests that caught it early. Now I’m recovering from a double mastectomy and headed into chemo. Although I knew this was coming someday, I never expected it at 39 years old! Your friend is right though. Just accept it and take the next step. I like to google too because it feels like I’m doing my part towards my recovery.

    Like

  2. I’m so very glad that you have useful information and a path forward to replace the fear. So sorry you had to go through that. Standing in your doorway absolutely not even *thinking* about a hug.

    Like

  3. amarabray says:

    This makes me feel just sick inside that you had to go through this alone. My mom had a breast cancer scare and did the same thing not wanting to worry anyone. By the end she said she was mentally picking out her coffin. Again so sorry for your mental anguish.

    Like

  4. maryanne says:

    I’m sorry you went through so much
    . Wishing you a healthful 2020.

    Like

  5. Nicole says:

    I’m so glad you finally have an explanation. I think the worst is when you don’t know what the heck is going on. You know how when your car’s check engine light comes on, the service techs have a computer that can read a code and tell you what it means? Bodies need that. A simple, straightforward way to diagnose the issue. I went through six months of abdominal pain while they eliminated possible causes. I was so relieved when they figured out what it was and we were able to develop a Plan. Hopefully you feel that same relief now that you know what the hell is going on!

    Like

  6. Sadie says:

    I’m so sorry you’ve had to go through all of this and been so scared. Imaging the worst possible medical outcome and then dealing with the resulting anxiety had to be horrible. Along with you, I’m so relieved it’s not bladder cancer. All the best with getting rid of the cyst so you can pee on your pre-UTI-feeling schedule.

    Like

  7. L. in CA says:

    You’re a very strong lady, June. I was told that I had multiple cysts in my thyroid and some “may” develop into cancerous cysts. The choice was to test every year or have a thyroid removal. I told the doc that I wanted every one of those things cut out. It was the happiest surgery. The dark days and panic disappeared. I almost danced out of the hospital. My experience paid off as two years ago my daughter was diagnosed with the same issue (at 31 years old). I walked through the whole experience with her and it seemed to calm her. I was her support animal haha. She also experienced a huge rush of happiness to get out of the hospital and to know that in the particular case of thyroid cysts, once the thyroid is yanked out, the icky cysts can never return. Wishing you the best. So glad that your friend from Seattle was a comfort to you. And I love your new blog image. I hope we as your readers, can be your support animals😍 well in addition to Edz and the cat family. Sending lots of good thoughts your way!

    Like

  8. debwhosbacktobeingdeb says:

    My vagina just closed up for you. I know that isn’t where the problem is, but I got nervous for you reading this and when I get nervous the whole hole clamps up. Thank God it’s almost over for you. Cannot imagine the agony.

    What is amazing is, you share every single used Kleenex you have with us from some tiny cold, but this, THIS you feel you have to deal with on your own. I get that everyone of us would have been all up in your urethra with the DM’s emails and comments, but you and stoicism during this ordeal is remarkable. I’m glad you had at least one person you could lean on.

    Like

  9. Katie from work, fmr says:

    I’m so sorry you went through this June. I had a cyst when I was 11 and had just started having periods. It was so big and twisted they had to remove the ovary and tube along with it. But I managed to get knocked up on just the one over, so there’s that. I know you’re looking to have a kid 😂

    I have polycystic ovary syndrome so I was on birth control forever to regulate my crazy hormones. But I’ve still had the odd small cyst pop up. The good news is that even if you have to have surgery to remove it, it’s laparoscopic and pretty straightforward.

    The other blood in the pee thing is kidney stones. They scratch and irritate your ureters and bladder and urethra. I’m also blessed with those. Apparently all the iced tea I used to drink was a big contributor. Who knew.

    Like

  10. Megsie says:

    June–how awful! That UTI feeling is the WORST. My daughter had an ovarian cyst and had to have surgery to get it removed as well. It’s a relief when it is over. I will stand in your doorway with bars and cookies for you. I hope you don’t have to wait long to get into surgery. Thank you for sharing with us, now I can send good healing prayers your way.

    Lovely post, lovely June!

    Like

    1. Megsie says:

      OH! I forgot to add that I love your new design for 2020! Nice touch!

      Like

  11. Another Unruly-Haired Person says:

    I’m so glad it’s a cyst! It sucks in its own right, but you will be well again after getting rid of the damn thing. I know a lot of women who’ve had ovarian cysts. Always better once it’s gone.
    Did they give you estrogen cream to help with the “need to pee all the time” menopause-goddess issue (when they thought it was “nothing”)? Asking for myself, who has to pee all the time and is in the menopause-goddess era, a few months before you. Every time I’ve told a doctor about it, they just kind of go, “Oh well.”

    Like

  12. JG says:

    WTF. They should have had you in for a scan or internal sonogram much sooner. That is some BS. I had similar symptoms and was in for a sonogram almost instantly. Had a giant cyst removed—over 25 years ago when technology wasn’t as advanced. You were right to be scared but you will be o.k.

    Like

  13. JJ says:

    I completely understand your fear. When I get my mammogram I walk into the room as if I’m being led to the gallows. Take care!

    Like

  14. Demeterrella says:

    I am so sorry you had all that worry for so long. You bore it bravely and alone, yet there you were brightening our days. Thanks for all you do.

    Like

  15. Lorraine Mazza says:

    I’m glad you’re okay, and here’s my 2019 ovarian cyst / cancer scare story if you want to read it. I felt a lump on my left side at the end of May. Went to the gynecologist and the NP said your uterus is enlarged. Had an ultrasound that showed a large ovarian cyst (no cool photos, but imagine a large avocado / Nerf football dog toy). Had an OVA1 blood test that showed a 10 – 30% risk of cancer. Was referred to a gynecologist / oncologist who wanted to remove my ovary / fallopian tubes along with the cyst, and wanted me to sign a consent form that allowed him to “clean house” if he saw fit. Cancelled the surgery one week before because 1) he refused to modify the consent form and 2) found out through a Google search that he is a big game hunter who shoots elephants for fun. Then, had scheduled appointments with four other doctors and picked the one in Boston (400 miles from me) who came highly recommended and was willing to take my case.( I also figured I might be “radioactive” because of the blood test, and wouldn’t have any other options). Spent 5 days in Boston having the cyst removed and recovering. He just removed the cyst, nothing else – no overnight hospital stay, no cancer, just a big ol’ cyst! Today is four weeks post-surgery and I feel great. But let me tell you, this was the worst six months of my life so far.

    Like

    1. June says:

      I saw cyst/cancer and stopped reading. Please no one scare me, please.

      >

      Like

      1. Lorraine Mazza says:

        No cancer. Everything was fine, and not knowing was the most scary part.

        Like

  16. boomersmommasmomma says:

    Oh my goodness, so sorry you had that looming over you. Glad it’s not cancer and they will fix you up. Stay positive.

    Like

  17. Mary Lou says:

    Thank all the gods you finally have an answer, June.
    I’ve also had to wait for anxiety causing test results.
    Your three months of pain and worry is terrible.
    I hope you’ll soon be feeling better and the new year brings you the best of everything.
    Thanks also to your friend Paula, for helping you cope.
    The brain is a wonderful horrible thing. If only we could tell it to shut the hell up at times like this and it actually listened.

    Like

  18. Lorraine says:

    I’m glad you’re okay, and here’s my 2019 ovarian cyst / cancer scare story if you want to read it. I felt a lump on my left side at the end of May. Went to the gynecologist and the NP said your uterus is enlarged. Had an ultrasound that showed a large ovarian cyst (no cool photos, but imagine a large avocado / Nerf football dog toy). Had an OVA1 blood test that showed a 10 – 30% risk of cancer. Was referred to a gynecologist / oncologist who wanted to remove my ovary / fallopian tubes along with the cyst, and wanted me to sign a consent form that allowed him to “clean house” if he saw fit. Cancelled the surgery one week before because 1) he refused to modify the consent form and 2) found out through a Google search that he is a big game hunter who shoots elephants for fun. Then, had scheduled appointments with four other doctors and picked the one in Boston (400 miles from me) who came highly recommended and was willing to take my case.( I also figured I might be “radioactive” because of the blood test, and wouldn’t have any other options). Spent 5 days in Boston having the cyst removed and recovering. He just removed the cyst, nothing else – no overnight hospital stay, no cancer, just a big ol’ cyst! Today is four weeks post-surgery and I feel great. But let me tell you, this was the worst six months of my life so far.

    Like

  19. Barbara with the traditional spelling says:

    Oh Lord june. What a horrible time. How I would like to lose weight during stress. Like so many june gardens cyber friends I have had a bad few months. I not only found your lost weight, I found some other strangers too.
    Good wishes and positive thoughts . I’ll fly in to see you in the hospital. I just need a day to get there.

    Like

  20. Sandra in Naples says:

    I’m so sorry to hear about this June, but here for you in spirit and my, how brave you were. As mentioned, I really love the idea of the Emotional Ambulance with animals included.
    I had a cyst removed years ago. Easy peasy but I do remember the fear prior. I’m so glad the wait is over and we are all here for you 24-7. And I LOVE the new blog design. Squee!! Typewriter font is my favorite. But I’m wishing I could live in the past, so.

    Like

  21. pcb says:

    What a terrifying time you’ve had. Not only were you scared but you were dealing with UTI symptoms the whole time, which face it, are AWFUL. We’re all very thankful it’s a relatively minor issue (as in, not fatal). I hope they don’t make you wait forever to have it removed.

    Like

  22. I am so sorry you have that feeling. That is a horrible thing and to feel like that for so long! I’m glad it is nothing life threatening though.

    Like

  23. Laura Gillespie says:

    Is it wrong that I immediately thought “Oh boy….she’ll probably lose 10 lbs when they remove that giant thing”?
    (That’s what I’D be thankful about anyway). Glad you’re okay.

    Like

  24. Dena Culpepper CULPEPPER says:

    Glad you are going to be fine (seriously, you’re going to fine) but hate that you had so much to walk through over the past few months. ❤

    Like

  25. PLS says:

    That. Just. Sucks.

    Like

  26. Capelover says:

    I will be so happy when you divorce your cyster!

    Here’s to great health to Jume Gardner in 2020!

    Like

  27. Mel says:

    Glad it’s better, June.

    Like

  28. bamacarol says:

    Glad you have answers now June. Hope things are much, much better in 2020 for you. Praying for you and your surgery.

    Like

  29. Beige says:

    Wow! I’d hug you if my arms were long enough but you’d hate it so ima just give you the slightest punch in the shoulder instead. I’m glad things are ok. I can’t imagine just the pain for so long. Super impressed you got something positive from it and a good reminder to tame the gremlin. Thanks for sharing.

    Like

  30. Ruth says:

    You showed great courage actually. Glad it in the past now.

    Liked by 1 person

  31. DeDe says:

    Last year I went in for my yearly mammogram and they saw “something”. I would need to have it biopsied. It was only a few days between the two appointments and I only told one other person I had to have the biopsy. It was a long 48 hours, I can’t imagine what state I would have been in if there was MONTHS before I got an answer. The point I’m trying to make is that I’m sorry you had to deal with this for so long but I’m glad there is light at the end of the tunnel. Happy 2020, June!

    Like

    1. June says:

      My mammogram is Monday, and I thought of the times they’ve called me back to look at things, and I HATED that in-between time. If they do that to me this year I will just blow the whole place up with a Wile E. Coyote bomb, the kind where you push down on the handle.

      Like

      1. Beth from the woods says:

        You might want to mention that to them when you go in for the boobie groping/smashing… Hey, guys give me a break this year…you always find “something” if you could go ahead and schedule the “I gotta look again” for later that day , like the next appt. Just book me ahead of time, because I just can’t take any more waiting.
        Wylie Coyote bomb….hee.
        Glad you know what is going on now.

        Like

  32. Mary says:

    So sorry you have been going through that. I’m glad you finally have answers and can get that thing yanked.

    Like

    1. June says:

      According to my Google-ing, I think I have to actually go to the hospital for a few days, which I will enjoy. I demand everyone visit me and sob by my bed.

      Like

  33. Jeanie Herkomer says:

    Very glad you’re okay, June. I completely understand the anxiety aspect. I’m not good at handling life’s little bumps in the road, to say nothing of a medical scare. My doc has put me on two anxiety meds, apparently for the rest of my life. Also too, a UTI isn’t a fun thing to have. You might say it’s a pisser.

    Like

    1. Florence says:

      Jeanie, I read your comment with great glee to my daughter and was ordered out of the room. Nice one!

      Like

  34. Geeky Girl w Glasses says:

    Holy smokes June!! Girl, you are a TROOPER. I’m so glad it’s not bladder cancer and this is something that can be taken care of. You should probably go buy yourself something pretty- you deserve a reward for after all that anxiety!

    Like

  35. llbrat says:

    I’m so glad you have some answers and that Paula was able to help you cope with the anxiety. I have a phrase that I started using with my mom, “It’s wayyyy too soon to panic.” I had a coworker who was due with her first child the same time I was and I shared with her my worry that my baby would be born with a disability. (I grew up with a learning disabled brother.) She said something that changed my life, “I’ll worry about it then, there’s nothing I can do now.” And it’s SOO true. Worry is interest paid on a loan you haven’t even taken out.

    Liked by 1 person

  36. Dancer says:

    Wow girl that’s a lot to go alone. I’m glad you have a huge cyst. Glad not glad. But that’s so much better than the others

    Like

  37. Carol in Mpls says:

    So glad there’s an end in sight, June. I had no idea UTI’s were so heinous until about five years ago, and had two(2)(II) in the space of three months. While I was in school, trying to focus on actual schoolwork. Thought they’d find me in the bathroom stall, clutching the handicapped railing, passed out on the floor.

    The thing that always scares me is the unknown. Not so much fear, but just the unknown. And the waiting.

    Like

  38. Jan says:

    Oh my Junie! Obviously I had no idea. I’m sorry!

    I have ovarian cysts all. of. the. time. I have had them burst, I have had them surgically removed and even had something called ovarian drilling (that’s what she said) done when I was having surgery for an issue with a Fallopian tube.
    You’ll do great. I’d rather have a cyst removed than have the cystoscopy and you did that!

    Like

  39. Barbara says:

    So sorry, June! What a Merry Christmas! I know your anxiety is better, but the Pee all the Time is still there, unfortunately. I lost my Spooky kitty to bladder cancer a few weeks back, I hadn’t thought that she was in that kind of pain. Here’s to feeling better!

    Like

  40. dbinmd says:

    Oh, June. I am so sorry you went through this, but I am also so happy you have an answer. That is some scary stuff.

    Anxiety is a bitch. Mine has been through the roof and apparently I’ve taken to screaming in my sleep (when I can sleep that is) according to my husband. I haven’t lost any weight though.

    Like

  41. Fawn Amber says:

    GIRL. Again, we are practically the same person because bladder/kidney issues, I have. Since I know you’ve already googled the hell out of this, what are the other symptoms of an ovarian cyst? I had one once, found on an ultrasound, and by the time I got to have an MRI a week later, it had just gone away, on its own, like most of the men in my life.

    I was about to tell you, before I got to the end and your diagnosis, that I had ALL of the same symptoms about 15 years ago and mine turned out to be a kidney stone that was so low in my bladder that they didn’t see it at first. They diagnosed me with interstitial cystitis and told me I had to give up things like tomatoes and chocolate. I did like 4 rounds of antibiotics. I had bloody urine. It took forever to find the damn thing, but once they did, one outpatient procedure and it was history.

    I’m really glad you don’t have bladder cancer, dude.

    Like

    1. June says:

      I think that at first they suspected IC, as they too told me to avoid carbonated beverages and tomatoes and coffee, which sums up my food groups other than Pop Tarts.

      Liked by 1 person

  42. banne4 says:

    I hope this cyst issue is gone soon! It is so awful to have that sort of thing just hanging over you!
    I think the new format is – good… I guess we will get used to it!
    I hope you are meditating!

    Like

  43. Back to PJ who would have called the emotional pain ambulance twice in the last two months because she knew she had colon cancer like her niece and just found out yesterday that she doesn't. says:

    The anxiety you have been through is awful and I am sad that you have been through it. If I have something pretty minor or common I may bitch about it, but if I think it’s serious I clam up and tell no one.
    If you are in physical terror and agony you can call an ambulance. I think there should be Emotional Pain Ambulances. They arrive in a highly decorated and hand painted vehicle. 4 kind and gentle and and highly knowledgeable people wheel a down-filled recliner into your room. They lift you onto the recliner, give you a xanax and a cup of your beverage of choice, play your favorite music, Sit quietly and listen to your every fear without commenting and then reassure and soothe you. When your fears/sadness/anxiety subside they set you up with great magazines and treats and leave a dog and two cats with you. They come back in the morning and check on you and pick up the animals. Now is that so hard?

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Mrs Gumby says:

      This is a wonderful idea!! I salute you, PJ!

      Also sending non-hugs to June for her incredible bravery over the last few months! I salute you, too, June!

      Like

    2. Sandra in Naples says:

      OMG PJ you are brilliant. Sign me up. Anxiety started just last year and I am a different person. Seeing a therapist, taking Ativan, scared to be along sometimes and HAVE to be outside whenever possible (sometimes this can be inconvenient). I love love love your idea.
      I used to be such an intrepid – go-anywhere-alone tomboy kinda gal. How I miss that. E.P.A. to the rescue! Now, with even more animals!

      Like

    3. teesmithii says:

      I’m so glad you are back to PJ, now I know who is commenting.

      Like

  44. Kim says:

    Your friend gave you great advice. I’m more the type that worries about something when it is confirmed. I’m sorry you had to deal with it privately. I was thinking about Tallulah when reading your story.

    Like

  45. Florence says:

    Oh, June, so sorry you went through all that anxiety and discomfort (not strong enough words), especially during the Everybody Smile-est of the holidays. Glad they found the cause and you are not Elliot to Talullah’s ET.

    Like

  46. Door Color Expert Andrea says:

    My first thought was “yikes.” That UTI feeling is horrible – having it three months and not killing anyone is a testament to the strength and fortitude you have.
    I had this little bump on my jaw this year, and everyone was all “oh it’s a cyst, no big deal” until it just kept taking up real estate and pretty soon it’s “We need to get that scanned” then the doctor callling “get in here this week and if you need anything at any time…” So they wanted a specialist who usually operates on faces and glands to remove it. Appointment was set a month ahead. A month. The whole time I’m thinking “yeah, this gonna kill me.” To shorten this long story I had surgery Dec. 17. They cut up the side of my neck and up my face along to to my ear and under it. They peeled back my face and dug that little tumor out from around my nerves. It was benign. It’s been 17 days and my face hurts like a sonofabitch, I still can’t feel my ear, and people with very few things in line at the grocery store insist I go ahead of them, so I’m sure everyone is lying to me when they say I don’t look scary.
    I regret not asking for a picture of the tumor. Ask you doctor to photo the lemon.

    Like

    1. June says:

      He showed me the lemon from the CT scan. It’s just a big clear ball. Not interesting at all. I was hoping it had teeth.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Door Color Expert Andrea says:

        I was afraid mine would have teeth and hair and I’d have to live with absorbing my twin in the womb 50 years ago!

        Like

      2. teesmithii says:

        Teeth!

        Like

    2. teesmithii says:

      Benign is the best word.

      Like

  47. FR Tammy in Atlanta says:

    I am so glad everything turned out to be okay…not that a lemon-sized ovarian cyst is okay, but it’s better than the alternative. I am one of those people with a Scarlett “I’ll think about this tomorrow” attitude-which usually (but not always) serves me well. Please let us know when you have the cyst removed so we can send positive vibes your way.
    Love the blog refresh for 2020!

    Like

  48. Joy says:

    Damn, June!!! I’m so so sorry! And for three months you dealt with all of this. Makes me so sad.

    Like

    1. June says:

      A few weeks ago, the guy at work who sits next to me, Murray Slaughter, finally asked, “Are you mad at me? You’re so quiet.” It’s been stressy up in here.

      Like

      1. Joy says:

        Even a man noticed! You had to have been so upset. I’m so so sorry.

        Like

        1. June says:

          Hahahahahaha! I love how he thought it had to be about him. Yes, I’m furious with you! If I have to hear about your fishing weekend ONE MORE TIME, we’re THROUGH.

          Like

      2. teesmithii says:

        This makes me sad, you suffering in silence.

        Like

  49. Georgia says:

    Why why why don’t doctors reserve an appointment or two for each day for things like this? You should be able to get that kind of information and go immediately to the appointment for that test!

    I’m glad you’re done but I’m sorry you had to wait so long. That’s miserable.

    I’m glad they found the cause—now to just handle it and be done!

    Like

  50. Kate says:

    Oh my, I know what that kind of fear and anxiety is like, and I am so sorry you have been going through it! Hope they get rid of the offending cyst ASAP.

    I like the new not-blog header and design. Also, the sentence “He gave me some estrogen cream and some papers on being an old lady with a bladder and sent me back to work” is going to tickle me all day.

    Like

  51. CarolineLonghorn says:

    Bless your heart! And I mean it in the sincere way, not the Southern snarky way. So glad you got good medical attention and that the end of your suffering is near!

    Like

  52. Ashley C. says:

    Holy shit, lady! I’m so sorry you had to go through all of that (medical and mental)! My anxiety is through the roof sometimes and you’re absolutely right, the mental side of things can be so much worse. When I’m anxious I repeat to myself over and over “they can’t eat you” which is something weird my mom always used to say that hardly makes sense but it makes me feel a little better. I guess that’s the worst scenario she could think of? Glad you’re feeling better and best wishes on the lemon removal!

    Like

  53. How freaking awful! And there you were answeing the door late at night and having people want a piece of your pizza and the neighbor using your water and the weeks waiting for your car- all the while having to pee a million times. Ugh. It makes my hands weak just thinking about the urethra insertion test. Ugh!!!!

    I had routine blood work in the fall. They said I had blood in my urine. Sent me to diff doc. Re-ran the test. Found blood in my urine. It was sort of unnerving but I did NOT have to pee all the time. My issue is not being able to sleep bc of ‘food’ moving thru the pipes. Colonoscopy found nothing. Maybe IBS. Anyway- I am not an axious person so I was able to say to myself ‘hey if I have bladder cancer then they caught it early. By accident even. I will be fine.’ Still it weighed on me. Ultimately they said all was fine. Still weird though.

    Hope they are able to yank that cyst-sucker soon! Sorry you have been secretly going thru SO MUCH toilet paper.

    Like

    1. June says:

      Dude, that is so true. Usually I get the cheap stuff but I went for Charmin this last time.

      Liked by 2 people

      1. I am curious if you count me as one of your two male readers? My blogging name stems from a childhood nickname that cropped up when my dad slipped a waitress a note with my name on it. She could not read his writing and assumed my dorothy hamel run a muck haircut meant I was a boy named Ernie. In reality I was a girl whose mom cut my hair with a straight edged razor blade with similar letters in my name. I stood on my chair and wept softly while the entire restaurant sang happy birthday to Ernie. Our family friends who were there still call me Ernie.

        Like

        1. June says:

          That is so sad. No. I know my two male readers. If there are others, please step forward.

          Like

  54. Anonymous says:

    I’m so sorry you had to go through that. It’s so sad that medical technology is so advanced and yet those without the white coats spend days/weeks/months on pins and needles because of something as simple as appointments. I firmly believe that if the health care profession had any compassion, they should have someone qualified to read test results immediately and you leave the building with the knowledge. Maybe that’s not fair to the doctor but it elevates patient care. Grr!

    Liked by 1 person

  55. Pat Birnie says:

    What a miserable thing you had to go through!! I’m so glad it’s ‘just’ a cyst – I sure hope you get it out soon. That feeling of a UTI is awful; I know, because I had chronic UTI’s many years ago (I knew the cause at least, I was having a LOT of sex at that time in my life and my bladder objected strongly;) It is miserable and painful.

    Like

    1. June says:

      That urologist also gave me antibiotics to take any time I have sex. “Well, those pills will last a long time,” said my mother, who should have saved the money she spent on comedy school.

      Like

      1. M says:

        Your mother is a gem.

        Like

        1. June says:

          And so so pretty.

          Like

  56. Anita says:

    I had a cystoscopy and my doctor was cute as well. I had blood I could see and blood I couldn’t see. But after that csytoscopy I didn’t have a uti for a very long while. Knock on wood. But now you have me wondering if I have another ovarian cyst. I had some removed many years ago. Our inside are like twins. Weird. Glad your news was good and hopefully you’ll get back to feeling normal soon. Well…

    Like

  57. Kathy F. says:

    My sister in law had a dermoid cyst on her ovary – also the size of Guam – also completely benign. Instant relief from her symptoms of having to pee all the time as soon as it was out. You will be just fine! Sending good thoughts and prayers you way.

    Like

  58. Love, Jimmie says:

    I have cysts and they do nothing but make my period hurt more! So that’s a positive story. I hate that you had to do all of that alone but look at you! Tough thing! You may have had the chihuahua shakes and carried around a heavy sword of gloom, but you made it through and found a coping mechanism, and your guts are made of steel more now that ever before. Also, that’s one hot picture. Congrats on being cancer free and this close () to the end of this saga. (I always want to know how much something weighs when they take it out of me so I know how much of a weight loss I can expect to see.)

    Like

    1. June says:

      Oh, that’s a good idea!!

      Like

      1. HelloMulligan says:

        This exactly – well thanks I have gone down a size – it was the cyst – nothing to do with the holiday eating – the cyst!

        Like

  59. Texas Kari says:

    Oh, June. The primary source of anxiety for me is health/potential worst-case-scenario cancers. I GET YOU, GIRL! I’m sorry you felt so alone, yet totally understand why you didn’t want to blab it all to the world. It’s shocking how often that pesky female reproduction system jacks up other body parts. There are a few things I tell myself over and over when in a similar situation, and it does really help. Maybe it will help you, too.
    1. I’m fine/healthy until a DOCTOR tells me I’m not. (not google/web md/wild imagination/whatever)
    2. Common things are common. A dr once said “Oh, it could be X or Y, but common things being common, it’s more likely A, and she was right.”
    3. Cancer doesn’t come and go (usually). If symptoms are intermittent, that’s a good thing (generally).
    You are going to be ok!
    On a lighter note, I really like the New Year – New You website update. I’m a fan of the vintagey typewriter font!

    Like

  60. It's Just Me says:

    As someone who suffers from major anxiety and who developed some heart problems a while back, I get it. It sucks. I’m so glad it’s not cancer though. Still, what a shitty way to have to get through the holidays, which are stressful enough without having crippling fear and a constant need to pee. Hang on to those Xanax though. That stuff rocks.

    Like

    1. Sandra in Naples says:

      Exactly my story, no anxiety until heart issues. Now I am not the same person, mentally. When it’s really bad Xanax is the only thing that helps. But zzzzz.

      Like

  61. Iowamom says:

    So sorry to hear about the stress you’ve been through. Nothing like stress induced weight loss and sleepless nights. Here’s to a new year and taking out that growth that seems too comfortable in your innards. I’m the praying type so you’re on the list.

    Like

  62. teesmithii says:

    Oh my goodness, what a nightmare you have come through. The waiting is awful, plus feeling like you have to pee all the time pure agony. I’m so glad you have some answers, but until your cyster is evicted are you going to have to continue to be in misery feeling like you have to pee all the time?

    Even going through all this misery you are still funny. Also too, I like your new heading and format.
    Tee

    Like

    1. June says:

      Thanks, Tee! The doctor gave me a shitload of supplements to take the first time I was there, and now he’s prescribed me overactive bladder stuff as well, so that is reducing my misery slightly. Because I said to him, This is great news, but why am I feeling like this, then? So, I get the cyst out, we see how I feel after, and I go back to him in April. But, I mean, it’s literally lemon-sized, so it’s probably what’s causing this.

      Like

  63. Anonymous says:

    I’m so happy you were persistent in pushing your doctors to figure this out. I did the same last year. My left foot hurt, finally a chiropractor had an MRI done on my lower back and, wallah, cancer tumor on my kidney. Got that sucker removed and all is good! Kept telling all the doctors I saw it’s not plantar fasciitis. Thank God I kept pushing my doctors. I hope they get that sucker out of you soon so you have relief.

    Like

  64. Audra Volpi says:

    Urine and blood and cysts, OH MY. now you know and can plan accordingly with your beautiful AF doctor. (6th base? I don’t follow sports, but that’s good… right?)

    Hang in there.

    Like

  65. Jan in MO says:

    Oh June! I completely understand. I once lost 10 pounds in one week waiting for a cervical biopsy to come back. Then, the doctor didn’t call me because it was negative!! Who does that to a person?? When you do get you cyster out, please don’t keep us in the dark, even if we are like having hundreds of meddling buttinsky relatives.

    Like

    1. teesmithii says:

      My doctor did that to me after an MRI on my brain! Turns out I was having neurological problems because of allergies, but it took years to figure that out. That doctor told my husband that I was overreacting because I was never sick!

      Like

  66. cherylk says:

    Sorry you had to go through that, but I am glad it is going to be OK. (And it is going to be OK)

    Like

  67. Just Paula H&B says:

    Fucking cysts, man. But thank God.

    Like

  68. Liz says:

    So glad you are ok!!! I didn’t think anyone else was as anxious as I am about medical issues.

    Like

  69. Melvie says:

    I am so sorry that you had to go through this. Anxiety and health scares are the absolute worst. I am glad to hear no bladder cancer and pray for good outcomes with the cyst. Getting old(Er) totally sucks most of the time.

    Like

  70. Kris in TN says:

    I am so glad everything has turned out ok. Not happy you have to have a surgery, of course, but now you have answers! That is 99% of the battle already won!

    Like

  71. Bettydh says:

    OMG! I am so glad you are still with us. Medical stuff is the worst. To quote Tom Petty “The way-a-ting is the hardest part. Get better…although I’m not sure how much better you can get.

    Like

  72. Mary Ellen from Napa says:

    Oh my! That stuff is scarey AF. im so sorry you went through all of this at all, let alone by yourself.

    Like

  73. Lisa. Not THAT Lisa says:

    Oh, June. This stuff is so so scary. I’m glad you’re past the worst part of it and I, too, think the cyst is the issue. I’ve had friends and both my daughters deal with cysts that caused all kinds of weird symptoms – one of my girls was told she had an ulcer. Nope. Cyst on her ovary causing terrible pain in her belly. And there’s nothing a doctor hates to hear more than “I have pain in my abdomen” – the possibilities are endless. (Our doctor friend told me that – I’m not smart enough to figure that out on my own.)

    I think your reaction was perfectly normal – all the worry and googling and more worry. If it’s not norma,l than I am right there with you in the not-normal zone.

    Much love to you June.

    Like

    1. Lisa. Not THAT Lisa says:

      Also too – I’ve suffered the occasional UTI and it’s terrible. You just KNOW as soon as it starts. Not being able to relieve that OH MY GOD I NEED TO PEE feeling would be miserable!

      Like

      1. June says:

        Tallulah had bladder cancer, and I had a whole, “We’re Elliot and ET” thing for awhile. Anyway, she had to pee all the time and nothing came out. I remember when I was debating when to put her to sleep one of the things I said was, Feeling like you have to pee all the time is one of the worst feelings on earth and she’s felt like that for three months.” Now I’ve gone just as long with that feeling.

        Like

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