What a Pain in the Belly Button

While we were on vacation, Becky stayed at home. (Or more accurately, she stayed with friends. It was her choice; we didn't ditch her.) During one of our daily calls home she reported that her belly button hurt. Weird. She reported nothing unusual that had happened to cause it, and neither was there a bump indicating a hernia. I asked if grandma should take her to the doctor or if she thought it could wait until we got back. She said she thought she could wait.

We were back several days before she complained of the pain again, and this time it was accompanied by spreading pain across her abdomen. I figured it was time to see a doctor.

At the doctor's office we saw our very favorite pediatrician ever. The one that left abruptly last year. Apparently she's back. This makes me very happy. No idea where she was, why she left, or why she chose to come back, but I'm happy.

She was also very clueless about what Becky's belly button pain could be. Not appendicitis nor a hernia, and other than that she's not afraid to tell me that she doesn't know because of the weird specifics of this particular pain. She took a urine sample (and Becky learned the fun of a clean-catch cup) and while we were waiting for the doctor to come back again, my daughter felt the need to tell me that they were doing sit-ups in school the day before.

Stop the presses.

The spreading abdominal pain that isn't exactly internal but more muscular? Yeh. I felt like a huge derf-wad because I didn't think to ask at home if she'd done anything out of the ordinary lately. (But remember that it's been over a week of belly button pain now and obviously I wasn't thinking well beyond that.) I chose not to tell the doctor this new piece of evidence when she came in because it still didn't explain the belly button pain and I figured all our prayers would be answered when the "mysterious" spreading pain disappeared. At least as far as that mysterious spreading pain went.

In order to further address the situation, the doctor requested an ultrasound to rule out bladder or other internal problems. We had that done over the weekend. While in the waiting room, Becky asked if being poked in the belly button would cause it to hurt like it does.

The presses will never get the printing done with all the stopping going on.

When was she poked in the belly button? And why? Well, you know how you poke each other in the stomach (no, not really; adults don't do that) and sometimes you miss and hit the belly button? That happened. Last week just before all the pain started. Derf-wad doesn't begin to explain how I feel at this point. Daughter of Mine, have you heard of the Need to Know Law that exists between parents and children? GRRRRRR Should we even go on with the testing, or tell the hospital staffing that we are complete and total morons and we'll just be going home now?

I chose to go on. And say nothing to anyone. Hugest Derf-Wad Ever Award right here. (How long could an internal bruise last, anyway? And if it's still that tender after more than a week it needed addressed regardless.)

While Becky was relieving her bladder at the end of the ultrasound, I asked the tech if she'd seen anything out of the ordinary. (If I was going to play Hugest Derf-Wad Ever, I may as well do a good job of it.) My daughter has a cyst on her ovary. Huh.

Do you know what the very first thought was that popped into my head? "How will this affect her decision to have children someday?" No kidding. Is that selfish of me? Let's pretend that it's not, okay?

So I learned a little something that I really should have known years ago. A woman's ovaries grow cysts every month. That's how we reproduce. Who knew? Only this one cyst didn't pop and perhaps that's what's causing her the weird pain. It may or may not go away on it's own over the next month's course of womanly life. If not, there is medication to be given that will make it go away and prevent this from happening in the future. This medication is called Birth Control.

I laughed. I really did. Someone just told me that my fourteen year old daughter may or may not have to go on birth control pills, and I laughed. Life is that kind of ironic, you know?

We'll follow up with the pediatrician and see what she recommends, of course. I may or may not reveal at that time that teens are apparently in the habit of running into each other with pointed fingers, and that schools still require kids to do sit-ups in gym class. Because I am The Hugest Derf-Wad Ever, I probably will. That's how I roll. Plus the doctor could probably use a good laugh.

I think I just figured out why she came back after being gone for nearly a year. She missed our family. It probably shouldn't come as a shock to you that this episode really isn't out of the norm for us. I may or may not tell you about the ongoing psoriasis. The ongoing part is a bit of an understatement. We're talking over ten years of " my poor son never outgrew his cradle cap."

Let me just break out the silver polish for that Hugest Derf-Wad Ever Award.



(And the beauty of that picture is the fact that you now don't remember that I'm the Hugest Derf-Wad Ever. Love it.)