Warning: This Post Contains Far Too Much Information
Most people spend Easter getting their children (and/or themselves) high on too many shiny-wrapped bunnies, bilbies, wombats and chickens. Oh, and eggs.
They inhale hot cross buns at high speed, and hold treasure hunts for the children.
Most Easters, I am one of those people.
This Easter, I spent far too much time biding my time at a medical centre and then a hospital ER, discussing the state of my bowel movements with a Seriously Handsome Doctor.
A Seriously Handsome Doctor who asked: 'Are you decent down there?', before asking permission to lift my skirt and gently squeeze and palpate my tummy.
(I wanted to tell him I didn't know if you'd call it decent. I mean, I'd done what Mum always said to do and worn my nicest knickers In Case Of Emergency, but it had been a while since I'd had my Lady Garden professionally tended to, so ...
But the Seriously Handsome Doctor was already frowning, as he pushed and prodded and felt for, I don't know what. But clearly he didn't mean decent in that way, just decent in the 'was I wearing undies?' kind of way. Seriously? Do people not do that when they go to the doctor? He assured me they frequently did not. Or maybe that was an attempt to break the ice.)
After that, a nurse was called in to supervise, and I obediently curled up in the foetal position while the Seriously Hot Doctor then, ahem, conducted a thorough search of my insides via my butt. (Dude! You could have bought me dinner first!)
I don't embarrass easily. I've pushed out two children from my Lady Parts and half the maternity ward staff came to inspect the carnage after my first birth, (Thankfully - kind of - the damage was so extensive it made the second birth much easier. And less scary. And far more private.)
But I digress.
About the time that most people were enjoying their Easter lunch, I was being examined in the most humiliating - but necessary - way.
In the waiting room prior to that, I silently prayed that I'd get a female doctor. But female doctors came and went, and when a Seriously Tall And Handsome Young Man Wearing a Stethoscope came out, I realised, with a sinking feeling, that he was looking for me.
I know. Doctors do this all the time. And nurses. So part of me wasn't really embarassed. Especially the part that knew, if there was something seriously wrong with me, a rectal examination on Easter Sunday would be the least of my worries.
Bowel cancer runs in my family. I'm in the high-risk group.
And after a couple of very dear friends were invaded by bowel cancer at very young ages, I was so aware of the need for early diagnosis that I treated myself to a colonoscopy for my 40th birthday. (Who needs a party when you can have a camera 'shoved up your butt' as my son gleefully informed his entire class at school).
Nothing nasty was found, but less then three years later, I have the delightful news that I now get to have another one very soon.
Which will be yucky and sick-making (the preparation is by far the worst part of a colonoscopy), but will hopefully come up with a simple explanation for the fact that I've been bleeding from a part where we generally shouldn't bleed.
The good news is that the Seriously Hot Doctor didn't find anything obvious during the exam, and I was allowed to go home.
The bad news, is that in addition to the abnormal bleeding, I've been increasingly dizzy and off-balance recently, and my blood pressure and pulse rate has been alarmingly high.
My treating medicos don't know if the symptoms are connected yet, and suspect not. But it's pretty frustrating to be unable to do basic things like look down or up, without staggering around like a wino, or walking on an angle into walls and random people. (And wandering children. Dear God. Who will think of the children?)
It's like my brain and my eyes aren't quite in sync.
More tests, more possible explanations. (One, frustratingly, from an all-hours medical centre doctor who didn't know my history, was that my symptoms were all due to anxiety. Hello? I know I am an anxious person and I am going through a lot of stress. But I've been far worse than this in the past, and I've never walked into walls or bled from my bum. Thanks to Mindfulness training, I can deal with most situations - good and bad - and on the rare occasions I feel I can't, I know where to go and what to do to get it sorted. And I don't get dizzy or sick).
So how have I managed with the kids? Well, it's times like these, that I realise I'm actually doing a pretty good job of bringing up my beautiful small humans.
They've been awesome; Fussing over me and making cups of sweet tea (their usual comfort drink when they're feeling unwell, so they figure that's what Mumma needs too). They've even propped me up if I'm a bit unsteady, one on each side. And guess what? They've called a truce on bickering (most of the time), and are working together for good, and not evil.
My lovely big brother and his wife and son have been fantastic, as have our lovely friends and neighbours who have rallied around with offers of help and healthy dinners.
Getting back to the Mindfulness, it reminds me how much in life I have to be grateful for.
And it's a lot.
My family, my friends, my health.
I'm hoping that my Easter scare was just a wake-up call, which is kind of what Easter is all about, isn't it? New beginnings, new life, and giving thanks.
Readers, how did you spend Easter? And more importantly, are you decent 'down there?'