So as I mentioned a while back, I'd had an IUD placed and had an endometrial biopsy. The results came back -- abnormal, which is the lowest of the five levels of Shit Be Wack, y0. The phrasing on that, by the way, is interesting; there are various levels of panic, in a way that indicates that even in the face of a patient's body rebelling and trying to kill them, doctors still have a bit of a sense of humor. Sometimes that's all you've got.

After a very short time, the sort of timeframe that makes you wonder whether you're having emergency surgery or whether Kaiser's just been greasing your roller skates before sending you down Arch Street, it turns out I'm getting a hysterectomy, tubes and ovaries and all. They'll send it to Pathology while I'm out, and will take out some lymph nodes if they find anything bad enough. It was the roller skates, after all: they're not expecting anything too bad, but there's always that concern.

It's planned to be laparoscopic, with robots; the abdominal incisions should be very small.

I should be awake sometime in the evening, if not online; I should be home sometime Thursday, although scarce while I recover enough to actually sit at the computer.

Thanks to post-via-email, two of my friends have post-only access to my journal. They cannot read any of your locked entries, although with the post-via-email PIN and a T.A.R.D.I.S. they could probably gain access to an old workplace of mine. The plan is that ryan will email the small list of friends and family who need immediate updates, and then my friends with the keys will update DW at their discretion.

I expect that my own replies to stuff will be substantially delayed on account of, you know, hysterectomy.

(Purple, and other parties, have been excellent throughout all this, and tolerated my increasingly pathetic requests to them for hugs with good grace.)