I went to the gynecologist. It was a new doctor. As he examined me, he whispered, “Your husband is a lucky guy!” I felt like punching him. But when I got home and undressed, I realized something was off.
There was a mark on my lower abdomen. A small, faint bruise-like spot I hadn’t noticed before. At first, I thought maybe I bumped into something, but as I touched it, there was a slight soreness. It wasn’t painful, but it didn’t feel right either.
I stood in front of the mirror, tilting my head and looking closer. I wasn’t sure if I was overthinking or if my gut was really trying to tell me something. The doctor’s creepy comment faded into the background, replaced by a quiet concern growing in my chest.
The next morning, I called a different clinic and made another appointment, this time with a female gynecologist. I didn’t tell my husband, Marco, just yet. No need to worry him until I had something concrete.
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