Sunday, April 25, 2010

I Got A Pocket Got A Pocket Full of Sunshine

I always have the internal dilemma of whether I share too much on this silly ol blog or not. But I don't know how NOT to share. I don't know how to NOT be me. Believe me -- I've tried...but inevitably the same country girl who thinks everyone is her BFF rears her head up time and time again. My motto? I love EVERYBODY, so why doesn't everybody love me? I think it's best we leave that one unanswered.

One thing that is as consistent as the day is long -- us Southern Women are in love with avoidance. It is our saving grace. When sorrows like sea billows rolls -- we just apply an extra layer of lip gloss, pinch our cheeks and pretend life is all kittens and rainbows. Yes, avoidance is our secret lover indeed.

So are grits, sweet tea, and monogrammed towels - but that's another story for another therapy session. Hypothetically speaking and all.

Anyhoo -- if you might recall, about six months ago I had this nodule mass thingy found on my neck -- and while I was most certain it was a glitter pocket almost plump enough to shower forth upon all -- the doctors still wanted to check it out. Cause apparently, a bursting glitter pocket could put an eye out. So they biopsied it and someone in a very thick accent called me while I was in California and I could have sworn she said it was benign. Fine. Okay. All good. Amen. Let's celebrate with a glass of Cupcake wine, shall we? Okay -- TWO, but only if you insist.

Then, a couple weeks ago I fell deathly ill. Indiana Jones had left and would not be back until June (just a friendly reminder that if you are a 40 year old man reading this in your whitey tighties, I am a card carryin member of the NRA. Just sayin). And while I was in NYC I got a fever (not married in a fever, just clarifyin for Johnny Cash and all) and I was shivering and felt just lousy. I ached in my chest and my armpits. A strange combination, but my armpits have always felt neglected. So they cry out for attention occasionally. It's a cross I must bear.

Anyhoo, I called the doctor up and the doctor said, "YOU HAVE STREP THROAT and lo and behold your lymph nods are the size of fried up dumplins. We are fairly certain you have mono"

So I went home and slept for 3 days. When I awoke I was like WHAT DO YOU MEAN RONALD REAGAN IS NOT PRESIDENT -- and WHO ARE YOU? WHAT?! WHEN DID I HAVE CHILDREN?

Then I got up and applied lip gloss, curled my hair, and felt like I could conquer the world.

Until the follow up call came.

Uhm, we got your blood work back. Can you come in for more tests?

And off I went. And off they went to telling me this -- and only this, so help me God.

The mass in your neck is larger. And there are more. And you SHOULD have come back sooner since your last tests were inconclusive. Schedule another biopsy immediately.

Uhm, exsqueeze me -- a baking powder? INCONCLUSIVE? What you talkin about Willis?

Soooo -- I went back on Thursday and had another biopsy -- which is basically the equivalent to putting a straw in a Capri Sun.
And now I wait.

But here is what I do know -- cause I asked 3 main questions
  1. Will I die? No. Worse case scenario they will take out my thyroid and some lymph nodes and then follow up with a radiation pill. But I WILL NOT die. So I am now taking bak my grandmother's ring from ET. And my neighbor needs to give me back my silver.

  2. Will I lose my hair? (these are not in order of importance mind you) No. While it may thin a little (VERY LITTLE) I will not lose my hair. Thank you Lord Jesus.

  3. Will I get fat? Only if I eat Krispie Kreme every morning for breakfast. At this point and time there was awkward silence. While I would be on medication for the rest of my life and scans will always be a part of my life, I should only gain the weight from the side effects of key lime pie -- the wench it is and all.

Best case scenario -- it is just a mass of tootie fruity and we will just have to keep an eye on her. So she doesn't burst forth in jubilee.

So that is where I am. I have the neck of Uncle Vito but the optimism the size of the Texas sky.

So -- if you ain't too busy over the next few days -- say a Hail Mary, or light a candle, or rub Buddah's belly, or give a shout out to the big JC (not Penney's) and when I do burst forth, I'll make sure some of that glitter is sent your way.


Country Girl

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