The Cats Meow

Well seein' as how this blog began as a way for me to keep everyone posted on the cancer shmancer situation, I suppose I ought' ta tell you about my most recent scan. I am still having them every six months and they are still the bane of my existence. It seems that just about the time (approximately every 5 months and 3 weeks) I start relaxing and getting on with my new cancer-free life, LOW AND BEHOLD my electronic brain (cause I lost large chunks to chemo and even larger chunks to baby so nothin' sticks) dings to remind me it's time for another scan. And then I start to freak. Just a little, but freak I do.

This last scan was probably the worst in a while. I think waking up that morning and getting myself ready while my little man sat watching me, smiling and saying "cooo" and "guh guh" and giggling at Pharis made me scared. It made me scared for the what ifs. The what ifs, well, no need to go there today. It's no secret what the what ifs are. They are pretty simple. And right now life is simple and I like that much better than all those stinky, anxiety-producing what ifs.

I love waking up to a teeny, slobbery mouth attempting to eat my nose like some warm apple pie.

I love snuggling a sleeping baby in the rocking chair while he sighs without a care in the world.

I love watching a Daddy and His Boy giggle at one another with pure delight.

I DON'T love getting my blood drawn and my veins filled with 'dye' and my stomach filled with Barium Sulphate. Those things I do not love at all.

This particular morning I awoke, as I said above, with my panties in a real wad, if you will. I was not a happy girl and could hardly get myself showered, dressed and ready. I had not planned ahead. I had not asked anyone to go with me. I was scared shitless (sorry Mom). I thought I would be fine while getting the scan and Mom would meet me there for the results (thank Pete they don't make you wait ages and ages and tell you within a decent amount of time). But as I got into the car, I just couldn't do it. But I called Mom to formulate a plan of timing her arrival so she would miss the least amount of time from work - determined to be a big girl and 'handle it'. Well handle it I did not. I fell apart. I cried and sobbed and blubbered. And my Mom said "Shug, I am coming. Now. I will meet you there". And so then I cried some more. And arrived and my Momma was there. I was a lot less scared. A lot. She sat with me and waited on me and drank some coffee with me (when I was finally allowed to drink or eat!) and chatted while we waited for the new doc (Dr. M) to give us the news. Thank Pete for my Momma. No CLUE what I would do with out her. Momma - you are the bees knees. The cats pajamas. The BEST MOM IN THE WORLD.

All that said - the next thing was waiting for the new and buddy, that is torturous! But thankfully, as all of my post scans have been, it was clean. A little question that my OB is going to look at but other than that, we are all good. So now for 5 months and 3 weeks I can get back to being me. Cancer free me. Mom me. Wife me and all the me's there are. So I am gonna get on that. First step of this evening? Get my fanny in the bed. Thanks for listening.

~m.