When I turned 33, I recall thinking, “Wow, I never thought I’d live this long. That was the age Jesus died on the cross.” (I’m not religious, but the thought had occurred to me.)
And now, I have made it to 55-1/2 years old. I am 666 Months. Yes, the irony is not lost on me.
I’m mad about aging altogether. But this is one of the key things that concerns me about being 666 months old. And it’s not Satan. It’s:
I think I might still be able to get pregnant, but probably not.
Not that I WANT to get pregnant. I just want to be ABLE to get pregnant.
On a related note, this past Spring, I had to have a uterine polyp removed.
(My son: “Mom, you don’t need a gynecologist. You need an archaeologist.”)
The archaeologist got in there and rooted around, then showed me an ultrasound of my uterus.
I had a flashback and said, “Wow. The last time I saw this kind of ultrasound photo, there was a baby in there.”
He replied, “Well, not anymore. Here is your polyp.” (Points to it, I have no idea what he is pointing to)
He also noted, “You have one egg left.”
I said, “WHAT? Don’t women start out with like a few hundred thousand eggs? I figured I would have a few hundred beat-up ones left.”
He replied, “Yes, women start out with about 400,000 eggs, on average. And now you have one. Literally, I only see one. And it’s probably just the follicle, there isn’t even an egg in there.”
I replied, “YES, THERE IS AN EGG IN THERE. And I will nurture it, and love it, and if it comes out, I will make a diorama like in 3rd grade, and it will be a shoebox with a regal throne, with my egg carefully placed on it, for all to admire.”
Doctor: _________________
So, in my March post-surgery appointment, I said to the surgeon, “So now that we’re all set with that…in a couple weeks, I turn 55 and I’m supposed to go off birth control pills. Is that still the plan?”
The young, somewhat shy surgeon replied—and I am not kidding: “By the looks of things in there, you can stop taking them now.”
So—I should only be missing 510 eggs. One for each month since I started getting periods when I was 14.
Where the heck did the other 399,490 eggs go?
My sister says, “Those other eggs were probably so decrepit, they just turned to dust.”
That observation is coming from someone who is EIGHT HUNDRED AND TWO months old.
She has uterine seniority.
So I guess I believe her.
