So, they insert a tube in your arm and a sponge in your nose, and you have exactly enough time to think, "I should be asleep in no time," before... You're waking up, all warm and snug on your operating table. They give you a nice breakfast and hand you a piece of paper with a diagram of your insides and room for commentary and say, "These are your results. The doctor wll be in shortly to discuss them with you." You look at the paper. Your face must be as blank as the paper, because the receptionist repeats, kindly, "The doctor will be in shortly..." You sit down and examine the paper, and are no closer to an end of confusion when the doctor whisks brightly around the corner and says, "Great news! There's nothing in there at all!" And although the witticism is not entirely lost on you, you are nonetheless not entirely reassured, because... Well, because the pain! Where is this pain coming from, if not your intestines?! And when your gastro-intestinal, your gynecological and your endocrinological doctors were all so certain that the answer had to be found there, to boot? (My gynecologist had murmured something while she was examining the X-rays ten days ago, and all I caught was, "...Crohn's disease...?")
So. All's well on the one hand. But on the other... Well, there is hope, in that there is a possibility that if I take "the pill" again, all will be well for real. But that's another story, and a bit complicated (and no, it doesn't, strictly speaking, have to do with PMS), so I'll just tell you if and when it works, and spare you the technical blinkety-blonk for now. Especially since it might not work, anyhow. Ve shall see...
And many, many thanks ( !! ) to all of you lovelies out there, near and far, for your words of encouragement. Kind words certainly help to put fear in its place...