I wasn't going to write about this because it really has nothing to do with my children right now but then I realized a connection which I will enlighten you with later.
I was scheduled for surgery today to have my ovaries removed, specifically at 1:30 I would be saying good bye to those two little cyst-covered nuggets. The stress has been wearing me down, in part the surgery but also the idea of being launched into menopause and all of the implications that comes with it.
I'm pretty confident it has nothing to do with wanting more children because I know deep down in my heart that if I had another child, it would be a boy, and then I would lose my mind and the gods are cruel enough to let that happen to me.
So I get to the hospital for 11:30 as required, fill out forms, get my id bracelet, change into hospital gown, sit in a room with crazy people for nearly 2 hours, answer questions (one question I asked was is my surgery on schedule? answer: YES), have temperature, blood pressure and heart rate taken, and then 15 minutes before my scheduled time, get taken aside by two doctors to tell me they have bad news, my surgery has in fact been cancelled.
I was barely holding my shit together as it was being hungry, thirsty, having had no coffee and facing the loss of my ovaries, and I was pleasant to the two doctors as they told me the news, but then I lost it.
But then I ate, and now I am drinking.
So to tie this little story to 14, one of his favourite threats against 9 is that he is going to kick him in the ovaries.