Thursday, March 3, 2016

Here's how low things had become: I broke one of my own rules (gasp) and took out two library books for Philip. I will do a lotta things for a lotta people but I SO depend on library books for my health and well being, I never wanna screw that up. They were books about genealogy. That's one of his thangs. And they were new. 


And they went missing. 


For a couple of weeks-we were still within the renewal period but red letters appeared on my record saying something like: RENEWAL WISE? YOU'RE DONE. So it was a sort of a back burner, teeny, tiny, minor annoyance. 


One fine morning, they magically turned up and there was this incredible amount of rejoicing. Truly. We were filled with happiness and joy and that's when I knew things were still really 'off' in the Department of Health. 

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An older woman approached me at the library. I knew her several years ago and I'd only waved at her across the street walking her dog a couple of times here and there. She said, 'How's it goin'?" and I said, "Good." and she said--in a kind of an East coast accent, "I'm glad. If anyone deserves a break-it's you."

Huh. 

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This was the week of test results and the learning of a new term: carcinophobia.  

I made an appointment with my new Primary Care guy so that he could explain all these results. It was getting to be a lot and Google is no friend of mine when it comes to looking things up. "This surgery was The Most Painful Thing I Have Ever Experienced." That's what I find. 

Oy. 


I got the emailed test results from Loyola late Sunday night, I think. I didn't get out of bed to open it because I have to sorta prepare myself for these things. (I know. I'm a weirdo.) 

Monday morning, I opened the e and got to choose from two test results. US/SOFT TISSUE NECK (USTSTN) or CEA. Soft tissue is the thyroid report and CEA will tell you if you have cancer fairies still dancing in your body. 

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The Smug


I am not sure that I am not imagining it, but I think I've identified a new species. They're called: The Smug. These are people for whom life-wise-everything is still perfect. They get to spend their co-pay dough on fabulous outfits ordered offa the internet and their lunches come from the salad bar at Whole Foods. 

It is not that they are unsympathetic to anyone else-it's just that they have no reference points on which to rely. 

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Grantley assisted in the renewal of an exercise program. She must have eaten one of the many street loaf-type delicacies that hide in the lawns of The Chicken Wing Triangle where we live (Popeyes to the west/Chicken and Waffles across the street and KFC to the east)giving her a fine case of intestinal distress. Corgis speak with their feet(cha cha cha cha chaaa) and every time she danced, somebody had to run outside with her. I've taken her out more in the past 2 days than probably in the past six months. 

A good thing. A bad thing. All rolled up in one.

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We went to the Primary Care first thing Tuesday morning. More high stakes jocularity as we sat in the exam room. I was trying to take Philip's picture and he was trying to prevent it using vulgar sign language. (Not pictured here. Gawd Fahbid.) 


I was still laughing when the Doctor entered the room.

Busted. 

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Militant Self Care

I've done something so completely cutting edge even I can't believe it. You remember when I started visiting this new primary care guy, I was so exhausted and feeling bad. Well, I did some good hard thinking and I thought, hey dumbass.(this brand of self talk is not recommended) What part of this equation do you have influence over? 

So. Two days a month. On the weeks when I perform tremendous feats of superhuman strength? I took two afternoons off. 

I waited for trees to fall on my head in retaliation but so far? Nothing. 

Please stand by.

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The morning of the doctor's appointment, I looked at the Thyroid Report. And then after a few deep breaths, I looked at the CEA. That's the scary one. 

On we went to LaGrange and the doctor actually sat down with us and we had this entire chat about everything. It was So Cool. 

It seems as if there is something thyroid-wise but it doesn't sound like SOMETHING. It sounds like something. 

And one of the phrases that kept falling out of my mouth at this particular appointment was this: So that's good news then, right? 




We were pulling out of the parking lot on our way to get our traditional post-appointment breakfast(am I crazy or is that small coffee suitable for an American Girl doll?)both marveling at the talent of the new primary care guy and the dermatologist who referred us to him and P said,"This is the future of medicine." 

Yeah. 





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