I am still here. I have a whopping anaesthesia hangover (good phrase, Deanna!), with attendant attention span of a fruit-fly, and am too sore to sit up at the computer desk for very long, hence total radio silence as May lifts her head occasionally, mumbles ‘my friends in the Internet, I must… just… What was I saying? Ooh, look, it’s raining. Can I have tea? What do you mean I’ve just had tea? Oh, this tea here by the bed. Ah. Err, did I say I ought to check the internet and write something? Oh, and can I have some tea?’ and flops back down again.
But, briefly, no endometriosis. Isn’t that wonderful? No one has any damn idea at all why I bleed like a gun-shot victim and get all ouchie-sweary all the time, but at least it’s not endo. Must wait for biopsy results.
Aaaaand… lie down.