I was fine after finding a lump in my breast (note: not “boobie”) last Saturday. Really, just fine. Until I remembered that at my last mammo, they kept calling me back for more films, where they were focusing on some seeming abnormality – right in the spot where I had just discovered this seeming lump. Hmm. Thus the rest of the weekend was as follows:
Kona and Timmy are roughhousing, as usual, and as usual Timmy winds up bonking me in the lip with his hard little Dobie head. Dammit, that hurts. As I’m feeling my lip to see if it’s bleeding, I start bawling. Bawling! Not quite in a Nancy-Kerrigan-why-me kind of way, but in an
“I don’t understand what the fuck went wrong with my life somewhere along the way – here I am, old, single, broke, alone, with cancer, can’t find work – what the fuck? How did it all end up this way? I know life’s not fair, but this is just fucking ridiculous”
Saturday, later afternoon
My friend “Stan” (aka Keith) calls me back, to give me a hard time as usual.
Stan: Blah blah blah. So what’s new?
Me: Same shit, different day. Aren’t you keeping up with All Things Tasha by reading my blog?
Stan: I’ve been on the road for work – I’m not exactly hooked up to a computer all the time. I haven’t even checked my emai….
Me, interrupting: Email, schmemail – I don’t care about that stuff. But you should be reading my blog religiously, like all those who truly love me do.
Stan: Okay, I’ll read it, and send you a dollar every time I do, how’s that?
Me: That would work, I guess. So in addition to my usual sucky life, I found another lump. I’m doomed.
Stan: Uh oh, that’s not good.
Me: Yes, so as I was putting away my Christmas ornaments, I was thinking of the one you gave me, the cute fishie with the pouty lips. So cute. (sigh) I just hope I’m around next year to put it on a tree again.
Stan: Oh, don’t say that!
Me: Yeah, I guess that’s a bit morbid. Hey, where are you? I hear rustly sounds in the background.
Stan: I’m on a Metra train.
Me: Oh, awesome! Now you can be one of those loud people having inappropriately personal conversations on your cell phone. “WHAT’S THAT YOU SAY ABOUT THE CANCER? IT MIGHT BE BACK? IS DEATH IMMINENT?”
Stan: There’s only one other person on the train.
Me: Oh, damn. That’s not quite the same. So if anything happens to me, will you make sure my awesome Christmas ornaments and my Helga picture go to good homes?
Stan: Okay, that’s it. You know what? Cancer won’t have a chance to kill you, because I will.
Whee! I discover a bottle of margarita mix with the tequila already added in the frig! This constitutes a joyful evening here, folks. I of course post something about it on Facebook, and immediately, my CancerChick girls are right there to join me in teledrinking. In fact, Kim and Melinda are there with the telebottles of wine – and then Noreen joins us. Yay, par-tay!
2 hours later
Me: Sniffle, I loooves you girls! You’re the only ones who understands me, sob. Here’s to the sisterhood! Hiccup…
To be continued…..