I had a few niggling concerns, worries that my miscreant behaviors (doing things I shouldn't) had finally caught up with me. But no, the symptoms were 'normal' and would go on for 4-6 weeks while the staples do whatever they do when hidden out-of-sight but not out-of-mind.
And I'm so very pleased to report I've nothing damning in the way of purple or blue tidbits that would indicate parts unraveling in my inner landscape.
But, the bestest news of all: the biopsy was 'clean'.
The reason for the hysterectomy were wayward polyps that a biopsy revealed as pre-cancerous (to date I'd avoided using the C-word because it sounded alarmist and I was in that State of Denial that isn't a river in Egypt). The odds were 50-50. I'm no gambler and that didn't sound terribly promising to me.
During the polypectomy, the surgeon couldn't get a good enough look to determine if anything else was amiss. So it was out with the lady parts and holding my breath for the results of the big picture biopsy.
Thankfully, the results were positive. Cancer free.
It wasn't until I'd heard those words that I realized just how much of a pall I've been living under. The tight-lipped route is my usual path when faced with things medical (relating to myself, not others). Actually, I'm rather good at sublimation.
Yes'm, I shall do that.
I'm not coming around, knocking on your door, or distributing pamphlets, but I feel relieved enough to declare this my personal Good News Day!