The x-rays I had done back in December showed not only a kidney stone the size of a walnut, but also an ovarian cyst the size of an orange.
My urologist (I feel like a seventy-year old man when I say that) immediately said, "That's not my specialty, but you should get it looked at right away."
Oh, great, I thought. What this time? But I comforted myself with knowing that if it was a surgery-requiring issue, I was already having surgery for the kidney stone -- maybe I could kill two birds with one stone and have both issues tackled at once. (And save on the anesthesia bill!)
Well, "right away" in the medical world is about two months. That's how long it took to get an appointment with a gynecologist. So much for my dual surgery plans!
Jesus, though, had a different plan in mind.
My new gyn. is amazing. I loved her instantly. She took plenty of time to explain all possible scenarios (even the scary ones), but didn't leave me feeling terrified -- just prepared. She told me that when they find cysts like this, they usually wait six weeks just to watch for changes.
And since the requisite six weeks had passed (eight, actually), she sent me for another ultrasound to see if anything had changed.
Sure enough, the cyst has almost completely disappeared! The doctor gave me a call yesterday to let me know. I could hear the relief in her voice. "I was almost 100% sure," she told me, "that you were headed for surgery." Cysts are random; they come and go. Ones as large as mine was usually don't go, though, unless through surgical means. (And she had told me initially that if they had to operate, she would likely take out the ovary as well. If anything at all look even a little funny, she'd take the other one as well.)
So... thank you, Jesus! (Again, say that with Gospel zeal!)