Dear Friends and Relations:
A few of you have asked where I’ve been. Seven of you have expressed interest in getting emails from me again. Here’s why I have not been in your inbox lately.
- I am lazy.
- For the last three months, I have been fighting pain. It’s a long story, and the good news is I’m doing better now.
Why was I having pain? My doctors have pondered this and done tests. They googled, “What to Try for Patients Who are in Pain And You Don’t Know Why.” One of the theories blames my bladder. I had a bladder test which required anesthesia. It’s called a cystoscopy, and it makes you feel worse before it makes you feel better. But it’s an effective way to find out what’s wrong with your bladder. In my case, the answer was, “Absolutely nothing.”
Apparently, my bladder is healthy.
My uterus is also fine. No one has used my uterus in a while. It’s been empty since 1998 when my son, Rob, was born. When he was three, he noticed his friends had younger brothers and sisters. He asked, “Mama, when are you gonna lay another egg?”
“I don’t know,” I clucked. My husband was giving me shots of powerful fertility drugs because my ovaries were not doing their job.
A year later, Rob asked, “What do you do if God doesn’t put a baby in your womb?” I taught him the word womb because I thought it was easier to say than uterus. In high school, one of Rob’s friends described him as the boy with an eighteenth-century vocabulary who makes occasional velociraptor noises. The word “womb” is an eighteenth-century word, come to think of it.
We tried for years to get my ovaries to cooperate and send some eggs toward my womb, but they were having none of it. They hung out a sign: CLOSED FOR BUSINESS. Then I think they traveled to Italy because I haven’t heard from them since.
Sometimes people with empty wombs adopt children, and that’s what we did when Rob was 7 years old. He has a sister named Jenny.
Here’s an interesting tidbit about the history of reproductive medicine. In 1827, Karl Ernst von Baer, a Prussian-Estonian embryologist, discovered that female mammals produce eggs. Before that, scientists had focused on chickens. Hens produce eggs, which scientists knew in 1827 because they saw hens laying and said, “That’s an egg. And do you know what comes out of a chicken egg? Another chicken, albeit a small one.” But not a single scientist had seen a cat or an elk or a bear lay an egg. So scientists said, “Mammals do not produce eggs. Obviously.”
(Don’t try to get me off track with platypuses which supposedly are mammals who lay eggs. I don’t think they exist. Have you ever seen a real, live platypus? That’s a hoax if I’ve ever seen one.)
Mr. Von Baer was ahead of his time, but he was the butt of many jokes in Prussian-Estonian pubs where embryologists hung out.
“Hey, did you hear what Karl said today?” said Hans-the-embryologist after he ordered a dark ale. “He said mammals lay eggs! HaHa!”
“Ja, I heard that,” said Otto-the-other-embryologist. “I wonder if he’ll let us come to his house and watch his wife lay an egg. HaHa!”
The conversation deteriorated from there. Other things they said are not fit to print because they involve comments about the character of Mrs. Von Baer that are not true. This is what happens when embryologists drink too much dark ale.
Fast forward to 2025. What was the cause of my pain if it was not my ovaries or bladder or uterus? Maybe it was the — there’s another organ down there called the . . . ok, gentlemen, I don’t want you to freak out when I say this word aloud. I don’t know why y’all are so squeamish about it.
You probably already know the word.
It starts with a V.
To make the males among us more comfortable, I’ll substitute the word Velociraptor for the other V word. So remember, when I say Velociraptor, I don’t mean the dinosaur.
And yes, the Velociraptor is an organ because Google and AI say it’s an organ. The AI overview is never wrong except when it makes mistakes. To put this simply, my Velociraptor needed estrogen.
Estrogen plays a starring role in reproduction. But at my age, estrogen has a dark side. It can lead to blood clots, stroke, gall bladder issues, pulmonary embolism, and grammatical mistakes. Doctors try to get women off estrogen when they are my age. It’s a balancing act because low estrogen can also cause bad stuff like hot flashes, irritability, and arguments among the organs. Here’s a transcript of the argument that played out among my parts. This conversation took place after the cystoscopy had cleared the bladder of responsibility for my severe pain.
Bladder: It ain’t me, sister. I am not the culprit. Try Vagina. She’s always been a trouble maker.
Uterus: We’re not calling her that, Bladder. We’re calling her Velociraptor because men are present.
Velociraptor: I don’t care what you call me. It’s still not my fault! Ok, I may be the problem, but it’s a desert in here. Give me estrogen or I’ll die! I’m dried up like an old prune. I’m 57 years old, and I no longer have my youthful glow and elasticity.
Mouth: Vagi—I mean Velociraptor, I’ve thrown four forms of estrogen at you since March. You’ll never be satisfied.
Velociraptor: (Gasp!) More estrogen. . . please. . . it’s like Death Valley in here. [Velociraptor clutches her pearls.]
Uterus: You’re such a diva, Velociraptor.
At this point, I’m taking as much estrogen as possible. We will see if that works.
It’s been almost 200 years since Mr. Von Baer discovered mammals have eggs. Ladies, if it drives you crazy that scientists pay more attention to men’s health, come join me at the pub. We will commiserate about our ovaries and our Velociraptors. Gentlemen, you are welcome to join us. Especially if you’re paying. There’s always womb for one more.