Last night I felt so miserable, I cleaned my kitchen. Then-I still felt terrible, so I cleaned the bathroom. At least, I had a clean house at the end of it all...
This was all self-inflicted. About six weeks ago, I discovered a lump: every woman's nightmare. A lump. Did I do anything about it? No, I did not. Why? Because I don't like mammograms. I know, I know-that was really dumb. So I went about ten days ago, and saw Margaret, who found the same lump and referred me to the hospital breast clinic. That was Thursday. And on Monday I was having my breast squashed.
Mammograms! Talk about an eye watering experience!! Then I had to have an ultrasound, and I blithely said to the doctor that I bet it was just a cyst. You could have knocked me over when she said it wasn't a cyst. So-hours later I was on my way home, after a biopsy (now they use a machine that sounds like a staple gun. So when I was finished, I had to look down just to make sure there weren't any pleats).
I get the results back on Wednesday. And-it has been that kind of week; I kept telling myself that everything would be okay, since whatever it is was caught early. Either I am an optimistic pessimist or a pessimistic optimist-I haven't quite figured that out yet. Still working on it!
The gel used to do the ultrasound is what gets me-after the pain of having my breasts crushed, that is. The gel could be scented, at least. And why doesn't someone come up with gel that could double as a moisturizer? Then at least you would leave with nice smelling goo all over your chest, and be moisturized at the same time. Nobody thinks of that. It's like the speculum: must have been invented by a man. No woman would ever do that to another woman!
So that was my jolly week. On Wednesday I went along to a lecture about Unitarianism. That was very interesting, and very informative, and there were a few people there whom I knew from church. We were all in the same boat: questions, questions and more questions. All good; I left at about 8:45pm, and it was dark, so I was worried. But I did well, and managed to get across a very busy road without getting splattered by a bus. I couldn't have done this last year-or even six months ago-so that was a high point of the week. At least the week had a high point!
Some people reach middle age and go skydiving. Some go on a trek across Tibet. Others learn to surf. And me? I clean. There is definitely something wrong there somewhere. Maybe I should learn to belly dance. That way I could clean and exercise at the same time...
I will learn the results of the biopsy on Wednesday. So I must not allow myself to be worried, since there is nothing I can do about it at the moment. Self-exam, everyone, self-exam.
In a few weeks I go into hospital for my bionic knee surgery. Huh. I'm going to the gym, doing everything right (except self-exams, though), and I creak like a rusty hinge. My friend is a nurse and is calling me the Bionic Woman. I'm telling her I feel more like the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz!
I must need more prunes.
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