I Was Just Too Smug

Okay, so.  A few weeks back, I had to have a routine mammogram. It took next to no time, I texted “bewbie squish” selfies to The ECB before and after, and I was on my way. I got home and posted to my FB page “Okay, so. I don’t have any history of breast cancer in my family that I’m aware of so I don’t view a mammogram as the Sword of Damocles. It’s more like 30 minutes or so I had to take.out of my day to stand topless in a room with a very nice lady who squished my bewbies in a machine. It was over quickly and involved minimal trauma.”

And Karma laughed. Because I was just too smug about it all.

I worried I might come off as offensively glib when I posted that. I expected to get slammed for that but since FB has screwed up the posts so badly that almost NO ONE sees a blog pages stuff anymore, I got crickets.

I DID, however, get THE CALL. The call where they say “We saw a spot and we want you to come in and have some more stuff done so we can determine what it is.


I sat there for a minute processing and trying not to go to the darkest place possible because, like I said, I have no history of breast cancer so I didn’t feel like I should panic.

I did text TWH and a handful of friends to let them know what was going on because I needed the “protective bubble” then I went in the next week for my tests and waited for yet another phone call.

The call came and everything is fine. I’m as normal as I’m gonna get, I suppose, but oh my dayumm!! I DID NOT like the week of uncertainty and wonder.

And I get to do it all again in a year or two. Wheeeeeeee!!

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Welcome to Cancertown

Okay, so. We came north on Thursday because the surgeon decided to go in & biopsy the mass they found close to my Mother-in-Laws pancreas on Friday. The surgery lasted about 3 hours and we completely took over the waiting room. After the surgery, the surgeon came out to talk to the family (all 17 or so of us) and said the words we were SO hoping not to hear.
“It’s Cancer”
Silence. Then a sudden, collective intake of breath as we all realize we didn’t get the outcome we were all hoping for. As the surgeon launched into explanations about “Spiral cells” and location I  glance around at family. My Sister-in-Law, my Father-in-Law, TWH, & TB. Trying to read their faces and see how they are processing everything. Then I had to call Miss A with the news. What little news I had, anyway.

We have arrived in Cancertown. We’re not unpacking. We’re not planning on staying.

Fuck Cancer.

Just Fuck It.


And So It Begins (OR My Dowwnward Spiral Into Geezerdom)

Okay, so.  I’m going to be 41 on Sunday.  My eyesight is shit, my joints are starting to ache, and underneath all this color, my hair is mostly white.

And yesterday, I saw my first “Specialist”.  I realize I’ve seen specialists before. My Gynecologist, the doctor who reconstructed my ACL, those are specialists I sought out of necessity.  This is the first specialist I’ve sought out because of an intermittent problem.  Not something immediate, but maybe becoming a bigger problem.

Yesterday, I saw a Urologist.

Yep, it seems that some of my parts are starting to rebel.  Or, as the nice Doctor put it, “These things happen as you get older. And I hate to tell you, they’re only going to get worse.”  He was just a little ray of fucking sunshine, that one.  Also, he DIDN’T hate to tell me. He had a big ol’ shit eating grin on his face when he said that.

He basically informed me that because I was “Pre-Menopausal” (lying Bastid) I would have more & more difficulties of the UTI kind and that unless I did my exercises that the two, count ’em TWO full-bladder-sneezed-on-my-way-to-the-bathroom incidents that necessitated a wardrobe change would also happen more frequently.  Fan-Freaking-TASTIC!!

THEN he said the thing that I ALMOST could have kicked his ass over: “Yeah, you ladies have it really rough as you get older with all your parts. That’s just proof positive to me that God is a Man”.  Really Mr. Doctor Man??  No words of comfort, no magical pill, just “Yep, you’re screwed, you’re gonna get even more screwed (but not in the good, fun way), aaaaaaannnnnnnddddd I’m gonna use this so solidify in my mind that I’m genetically the more superior of the species”

Rotten Braggart Asshole.

I go back to see him in 6 months.