Yesterday, in anticipation of my impending marriage, I went and got a copper IUD implanted, inserted, whatever. I seriously dislike both those words. Implanted makes me feel like an alien science project, and inserted is on the Bad List Of Words That Make Me Throw Up And Die A Little On The Inside. It was a singularly unpleasant and odd experience, and it made me feel very fragile. Just knowing that the IUD was there, and that one of the dangers (1 in 1,000) is perforation (the IUD pokes through the uterine wall and escapes to frolic about in the abdomen), made me imagine this was happening every time I felt a cramp. And I felt cramps often, since my body was adjusting to a new inmate, so I was walking as if I’d just dismounted from a 9 hour horseback ride. I was sliding in and out of the car as if my back was stapled to a 1×6. I was grunting and “oof”ing, every time I moved from the waist. I looked and sounded ridiculous, but I also felt that it was necessary. I felt that this tiny piece of flexible plastic wrapped in copper was actually much larger and made solely of copper, and would stab me in every vital organ if I bent at all or moved incorrectly. After a good night’s sleep, I felt much more myself, even able to safely bend! Yet today at work, I felt an odd sensation in my esophageal region, that feeling that you ate fries too fast and they’re now jammed in your throat and only a swallow of water will save you and even then it will be incredibly painful. I (very logically) thought it was the IUD that, having vacated my uterus, had migrated to just below my collarbone to stab me over and over. Then I remembered basic anatomy, and realized that my wonderful, umbrella/mushroom shaped diaphragm kept nonsense from flitting into my ribcage from my abdominal cavity yayyyyyyyyyyyyy diaphragm! So instead I decided I was having a heart attack.

I wasn’t, though.