So. Yeah.
I'm nearly, surely, almost 100% positive that my
intrepid, Republican Elder god alien has returned. Bonus awesomeness that I don't have insurance or any kind of safety net for dealing with it this time around. And it's been playing hell with my life/ladyparts/emotions/fatigue/pain/monthly/trousers fitting etc.) for the past three or four months. I am absolutely miserable.
Thanks to the recommendation of Heather Corinna, I have an appointment at Chicago Women's Health Clinic (sliding scale payments) for next week Tuesday. So then I'll know for sure. Maybe I'll get lucky and it's just PID and a course of antibiotics, but... I can feel a Thing through my abdominal wall with my own two hands.
Not that the GYN appointment will make any difference, in real life, because if I am again hosting a Republican-Elder god, I, 1) can't take off work to get surgery to remove it because I can't fucking afford any kind of surgery, and; 2) won't be able to take the needed six weeks recovery time of bed rest and no standing or lifting--my job is all standing and lifting, and still be able to pay my rent.
So there you have it. Woooooo! Welcome to America! Land of the Free, Home of the Terminally Fucked if You're Poor.
Poll OMG it's another TUMOR!