I like to have warning of when someone in my family is about to come home. Usually this warning consists of a noise. So i listen.
When we had a driveway, i knew the sound of The Mister's car, then the garage door opening. Now it's the faint whine of an elevator i am listening for. If it's a long lasting whine, then it's likely to be him, as we live near the top of the building.
I like to have warning so that i won't be caught doing ........ nothing. I feel guilty doing nothing. I feel like i will be judged for doing nothing. Although when i am doing nothing is when i am thinking. Which appears to the casual observer to be a lot like doing nothing.
To be clear, The Mister has never, ever criticized me for doing nothing, even when it would have been justified, so the difficulty lies in my own head.
Picture from our hike to Mt. Baker this weekend, photographed by The Mister.
Sometimes i fail to listen and get caught doing nothing thinking deep thoughts anyway.
I've decided to keep score in a different way, one that will be sure to get me into heaven; if i believed in heaven that is.
It must be easy for nice people to be nice. I wouldn't exactly know, but i'm imagining that less effort is required than is required for me.
Being rather a snarky person, i often have some snarky comment bubbling up inside me. I'm now going to give myself credit for every comment that i DON'T say! Believe me, there must be thousands of them every year.
Feel free to use my new accounting method!
The Mister and i were talking about orange juice the other day. For both of us, when we were children, our mothers gave us special teeny tiny glasses of orange juice in the morning, and that's all we could have.
It's as if orange juice was this special expensive treat that must be doled out sparingly.
What's up with that? It can't have been all that dear as we always had frozen. Making orange juice involved getting a can out of the freezer and plopping the contents into a pitcher and adding exactly 4 and a half cans of water and then poking at the lump of orange concentrate with a wooden spoon until it finally dissolved. (Sometimes we would even lick the lump, but don't tell mom.)
Our mothers must have gone to the same mom school. How about your mom?
Thanks y'all for the support and good wishes. And thanks for listening. It's nice to have someone to "talk" to.
Good news and bad news. It's nothing cancerous, but it is (i just always have to be special and different) a rare form of tumor that will most likely have to be excised. (it's called a Phyllodes Tumor in case you are the type of person who likes to look shit like that up, which i do.)
I was advised to make an appointment with a surgeon to get her opinion. But of course, my cynical self believes that surgeons like to recommend surgery.
So i have been and will be doing more research and getting more opinions before i agree to any such thing.
Part of me wants to throw myself on the floor and kick my feet and beat my fists on the ground because i DON'T WANT TO! I'm guessing that's not really a useful option though.
I'm going hiking tomorrow instead, Because the hiking season has finally started around here.
Sounds like something one would enjoy on a hot day.
"Hey, who wants an Ice Tit? I have blueberry and banana."
Having gathered more information, i decided to go ahead and get the biopsy done. My doctor seemed all for it, but of course, that would be her view.
I liked the (woman) radiologist who did the procedure MUCH more than the (man) radiologist who did the original ultrasound. She explained it all very carefully and told me WHY she felt it needed to be done. Actual information, what a concept.
My left tit was numbed with some Novocaine mixture, a tiny incision made, and a small bore tube shoved in, guided by the image on the ultrasound. Then a smaller needle was inserted through the tube to shoot out 5 times and get samples. Sounded kind of like a staple gun.
She showed me the samples afterward. Looked like little white bits of fat floating in a tiny jar. (Maybe next time they could biopsy my thighs and get some of the fat out there.)
Now i am sitting here with an ice pack on my tit. Good thing it's 90 degrees outside. I get the results tomorrow. Oddly i don't feel worried at all. The lady radiologist was most reassuring, saying it looked like a blah blah blah thingie.
But really, it's a lose/lose situation for the medical industry. I will be pissed if it turns out to be nothing, and i will be pissed if it turns out to be something.