A golf ball sized problem

I've always agreed with the sentiment that Golf was a good way to ruin an otherwise lovely walk. Not to mention the fact the sport has a penchant for having participants dress like 70's era pimps. Even as a child, I remember thinking the only good use of a golf ball was being able to dive for the florescent colored ones in the pool.

And at this very moment, something golf ball sized is ruining what would otherwise be a lovely day.

I've spoken of the cyst before. Today I went to the doctor to discuss when it was going to come out. The doc is a very petite, quiet spoken woman who calmly explained to me and the hub that the cyst I had was a relatively small one, "about the size of a golf ball."

I nearly choked. I'm not a large woman and the idea that something made up of left over hair, teeth and God knows what else the size of a golf ball riding around on my ovary made me a little uncomfortable. I got less comfortable when I learned that the cyst is large enough that it has either blocked any view of my ovary from the radiologist's tools or it has killed the ovary off.

You could have knocked me over with a feather when the doctor said, "We generally recommend you have this sort of thing removed."

RECOMMEND?! Lady, I want you to grab a pair of forceps and yank the freakin' thing out right now!!!

Alas, cooler heads prevailed and I'll be having laproscopy to remove the cyst at the end of November.

Anyone want to buy me some 70's era pimp pants? Especially if you can find the ultra-comfy Sansabelt brand, I understand my mid-section is going to be a little uncomfortable for a week or so.