Here's what happened: I was just doing the final, final layout/bits of writing for this children's book that I intend to get published-so I was completely engaged in that, when the phone rang.
It was the Thyroid Guy. He said he'd tried to call the day before but did I remember the A->F scale? Did I remember the A->F scale, what are you, kidding me? Well, he said, yours came out an F.
I said: SHIT*.
When I resumed breathing-and it took me a minute-I took these extensive notes: Remove entire thyroid gland. And then there's an 'F' and then in a circle there's the word: Shit. (because I didn't want to forget it-like that's even possible.)
Ya know, with any of this-may the lawd forgive me-shit that I've experienced, I never shed a tear. Nope. Not even one. I'm not a weeper especially. But when I got to the phone call to Philip-HIS reaction made my lower lip quiver until I forceable pulled myself together for the next round. I did like: Hey. We have to conserve our energy for getting through this next thing so let us pull it together right now, right?
Next quiverment, somebody from work I've grown to really appreciate. She was looking at me about to get choked up and I was looking at her choking up and finally I did my speech and that was that. She's an awfully lovely person tho.
I've had a whole day to get used to the idea and now when I watch TeeVee, I'm trying to see if I can make out people's thyroid glands on their necks. It's a new hobby-possibly maybe.
Next appointment Monday morning. I'll know more then.
*Later, I told my Dad I said 'shit' to a doctor and my Dad said, 'Good.'