By Karolina Kezdi
Welcome in my ovary
Except the WAGs and the hypochondriacs, nobody is keen on to see a doctor. Personally, if I step in an hospital or any other institute smells like a hospital, the nurses love to take care about me more than my rambling friend in a nightie with a broken leg; my middle name suddenly changes to ‘omgyoungladiyyouraresopalesitdownherepleaseidontwantyoutofaint’.
This hasn’t changed, even when I had to visit clinics quite often, thanks to my hormone problems. Once when I’ve been in a control visit the endocrinologist without any lead up between the importance of the term gluten free and said “ I’m going to be straightforward: your probably stay infertile. “ I wasn’t sure what you have to say in this case, so all my reaction was a thank you.
I was confused. In the next three days I felt more incapable than I would in a math exam. I didn’t tell anybody, but I couldn’t ignore the thought. To be honest all my thought was around there. Even If I’m typically never cared about too much having kids and stuff. Not at that stage of my life; it was written in the 10 years plan somewhere with pencil, but carrier, awards, accomplishments, money and fame first. True love or least a guy who still loves me when I’m hungry. And maybe after…. If I’m being capable to build an Ikea bedside table alone, and making my bad without any fold on the duvet cover or slicing an apple of aesthetic equal pieces – because these are kind of mom skills what I’m not owning yet. So maybe after… but suddenly this limitation made me feel:
I failed to be a woman.
How will I date? Just forget mentioning? Sure, it’s logical in the beginning, when can I find out if he has an indelicate garden gnome, or just stupid ,and then obviously nothing can happen between us. But what will happen, if he has a nice back of the hands, get my poor level of humor and bunch of others, and I want to see him again, and again, and again. Where is the point I should mention my “condition”? Should I? Does this define me at all?
And I have a better question, what can he answer? To be fair it’s almost as serious a dealbreaker than putting ketchup on scrambled egg.
A, “Yeeees, no condoms.”
B, “I’m out.”
C, “Ok, will see. It’s not relevant now.”
(Wait, you don’t planned your whole life with me?! Bastard…)
If he gets over on the “making babies project” I still can ruin it . Just simply go crazy. My biological clock start ticking and I will be uptight, unhappy and depressed. Start hating myself, blaming myself and I use this like an explanation every time he forgets my birthday or leave his socks on the floor. “ You doing this to me , cause I’m not able to give birth for you! That woman from yesterday in the supermarket, who you smiled at, I know she is your type, she can, go for it!”, then end up persecuting him.
I hated all these options, so I decided I will heal, what will be will be. I definitely made progress and I believe in the technology, humans and unicorns. I will find a solution when this will be actual.
I can change any game. I knew that already, but this was the first time, when I realised, you should never underestimate the irrational, this is collateral to being human. So every time, when I need an insight, I remind myself for that.