If you were hoping to get some sort of doctors appointment, you can forget it. I have all of them.
On top of job one. On top of job two. On top of job three. On top of Grantley-not having received the memo regarding the rapidity of older age approaching at the speed of light-smashing her leg straight into a stair step on her way flying up the steps and glimping(grimacing and limping) for the rest of the week.
I could still get thyroid cancer.
Wait, what? says me to the physician who will monitor my markers till the end of time. But I don't even have a thyroid anymore. How could that be?
We got into a great discussion starting with my favorite topic in the universe-hair.(It's not really just hair. It's style and design and transformation but you can call it 'hair'. I don't care.) I had been to get my roots done the afternoon before our first party at Gilda's club and when they rinsed me off-I looked like somebody dropped an egg yolk on my scalp.
Naturally, I blamed myself and my lack-o-thyroid and then they dumped on a toner from the purplish-blue realm. It. Made. Me. Beige. For the love of JAYZUZ. Me=beige. And late for the party. So we had a crappy view of the hula lesson. And we had both hunted for Hawaiian shirts-P more successfully. He found ones that were a dollar. I just couldn't throw $5.99 times two into the wind. Ya see what I'm sayin' here?
No she said. Your body doesn't know you don't have a thyroid because you're taking pills. Oh, says I. So how come I'm. so. cold.
Because I've been FREEZING and I'm never freezing.I love the winter. I welcome blizzards. I'm the first neighbor out to make the snowmen. Or at least top two. But now? It's so bad that I can't write at night because my computer is by the window and there's just no way typing can happen from icicle fingers. (I've thought about wishing for an iPad? But wouldn't that permanently install my arse upon my sofa? If I didn't have to get up to write? Right?)
The doctor said, because it's cold this winter.
Really? said me. That's it? Are you sure?
When I called our condo's management company and a day or two later they decided to get back to me-it turned out there were SEVERAL people presumably with thyroids intact that were also too cold. Imagine that.
We talked about the party at Gildas Club where I am so dumb(sometimes don't you TOTALLY surprise yourself?)I didn't really grasp exactly how heroic the people who showed up for this party actually were. Took me a couple of days. It was a Hawaiian theme holiday party and it looked like some sorta senior citizen extravaganza. Mostly everybody seemed old and they were sitting in a circle and there was this slow motion hula lesson thing and some very strange hors d'oeuvres(I don't know what this means but suddenly? If I'm eating something and it grosses me out? I must find a napkin and get rid of it. This spew thing is a new thing.)and some Really Tasty (virgin) Pina Coladas. I mean, those things were nice. But the thing is, when the salsa band came and started to play, I started seeing compression garments and just tiny tiny tiny indications of cancer and a few days later I thought,ye gods, when I was at my sickest? There was no WAY I could have gotten my arse outta the house and joined in on a Cha-Cha lesson so who am I to judge. Duh and a half o rama.
I made some comment to the doctor about being old and she looked at me and said: You're not old. And I said...oh come on. And she was dead serious and I thought, ya know what? She must see people in their 80's and 90's. I think I am actually not old and I'm not wasting another second on that. (And if you're in your 20's and you beg to differ? I think you're a punk and I'll see you on the inner tube hill once I find my long underwear.)
We talked about how doctors prefer Universal Health Care and we talked about asking for assistance and she really hardcore lectured me about how-before all this cancer business-how much I had been contributing to the system and that this period of time when I'm in a sort of a regrouping period that it's just my turn and I said yeah but you're not really supposta(speaking Chicago here) and she looked at me like, hey(a-hole)listen to me, will ya? (Only she would never say a-hole. I can't stop saying it myself. ha ha ha.)
Thyroid cancer is predicted to be one of the top three cancers by 2025. Or some year like that. Far away but not THAT far. And that is because of new and more powerful detection systems and I thought wow-bad-wow. And on the tiniest good side, yay for me because they're never going to let me stop following up on mine.
Next appointment 6 months. If that's successful-I can go for a whole year.
Then there'll be room for someone else.