The next morning, as I waited for my results, I figured one of two scenarios was most likely:

A. They would call and say, “After all that radiation, discomfort, and expense, we didn’t find anything.” This would certainly be the most annoying turn of events, so it was the one I was preparing myself for mentally.

B. They would call and say, “You have a cyst on your right ovary.”

As luck would have it, it turned out to be B. I had a 3 centimeter ovarian cyst, which would explain the pain, nausea, and other good stuff.

Oh! And, while CT scans are best for most imaging, it turns out that ovaries really like Ultrasounds. And Ultrasounds, unlike CT scans, are free with my insurance. And have no downsides. Which made me wonder:

Why didn’t they Start with an Ultrasound?

But I can’t think that way. Only madness results in thinking that way.

I was excited for my ultrasound on Thursday, and wondered if I should hop on the facebook bandwagon usually reserved for impending birth, and post my ultrasound.

I decided to name my cyst “Timmy.”