Whew!

All is good in the hood. Thanks for the thoughts, prayers and concern.

~m.

Because I don't have the guts to say it to her face

Tomorrow is scan day. Man I hate those days. Barium milkshake for breakfast is really the least of the problem. Read on to learn more..

Flash back to two weeks ago: I realized that my scan was falling on the morning of a meeting I really wanted to attend. So I made a simple call to my Oncologists office to see about postponing the appointmen

t to a later time. I didn't want

to change the day really, at least not by more than a week, because it takes a lot of mental preparation to get ready for this day. So I called and spoke with Sherry whom I have spoken with a number of times.

She is always pleasant in person. Not always so much on the phone, but whatevs.

So Sherry answers with all the usual pleasantries and niceties that are involved and I am my usual syrupy, sweet Southern girl that tends to get me what I need in telephone conversations.

I start in with "Well Hey Sherry! Are you enjoying all this wonderful weather? I bet you already have such a great tan, you always do!" Blah and blah and so forth.

Well after I get to the meat of my reason for calling, Sherry replies with "Now you know how much we love changing around appointments over here..."

I stopped short for a second, but picked up again with the syrupy sweet, need-to-get-my-way and agreed apologetically. Long story condensed into some chicken noodle soup for ya, I didn't move the appointment, was gonna be next month and....it's still tomorrow.

Flash forward to present: it's the day before my scan and all the worries and doubts and dread and nausea and tears have set in. I do the usual thinking, while bathing Griffin and rocking him to sleep - of, will I get news tomorrow that I am full of poisonous cells again and he won't know me when he's 6? I know that is crazy dramatic, but people...that's just honest.

Ok I've pulled myself together enough now to tell you the reason I'm so pissed. I've been replaying that conversation over and over again today. Except here's how it goes in my messed up little head:

Sherry: "You know how we just love changing around appointments over here..."

Me: "Well you just know how much I love coming up there every six months to find out if I've got cancer again..." Take that stanky ho.

Well - of course that isn't how it went down. And since my time machine is broken and Griffin dropped the knobblefidgetabgeldkin tool down the toilet, it ain't getting fixed anytime soon (crying makes me silly).

So I've been laying in bed trying to get some sleep and just can't. I want to walk in there tomorrow and say to Sherry some poetic diatribe along these lines:

Sherry, when we spoke last week you really were unkind. I realize that your day to say job here is demanding and non-stop with Doctors and Patients and Families all demanding that you Do This and Know This and Fix That. I realize that it's not an easy job and if most often goes unthanked. I recall that you have made my life easier on a number of occasions by picking up that handset and calling some other Scheduler across the land and getting me all squared away for test number 267 and that helped me so much.

But consider this - everyday many of us walk through those doors having no idea what we will hear from those White Coats behind you. For me it has just about been enough time for me to forget the fear and dread and nausea and tears that go along with these visits. Yet it hasn't been quite enough time and yet here I am again. Waiting. Drinking milkshakes. Getting blood drawn. Looking at weird black and white pictures of my insides that Rorschach would truly have a ball with.

And all I asked was that we TRY and change the time.

Maybe it was my birthday the next day. Or my anniversary. Or my little boy's first trip to the zoo - and I hadn't realized when I'd scheduled this terribleawfulscan. Maybe I don't want to feel this way before I take him to the zoo. Or the night of my birthday party. Or anniversary dinner. Maybe, just maybe, I don't want to dread hearing "The News" on THIS day. And I think that is important for you to consider. WE are coming to get news that will ultimately change our lives - regardless of their kind.

Maybe I will cherish the ride home with the windows down because I have, again, escaped the claws of the Terrible-C Monster. Or maybe...well I am choosing not to think of the other maybe. I've just cleaned up the tears off the keyboard, after all.

Anyway, I know that I will never say any of those things tomorrow. Or any other day for that matter. I will walk in and be all sweet and show a strong face for Sherry and Isha and Ms. Hattie. Because that's what you do. But I will sob the whole way there, cuz that's what I do. At least I remember to ask someone to go with me this time.

Well, I guess I should try and sleep now. Maybe I will feel a little better knowing I got that off of my chest and at least said it to someone.

Maybe Sherry visits blogspot....?

I'm just going to leave you with this one last thing that I learned from this whole experience. I am going to try very hard to put myself in others shoes a little more often. I certainly don't always know why someone is asking something of me, but maybe I don't need to know the reason, maybe I just need to do. Maybe, just maybe, that's the point.

~m.

Pajamma's

I have no clue why the title of this blog is pajamma's except that maybe I really want to go put mine on? However, I'm much too lazy for that. Instead, I'll blog!! I've really got no ideas to blog about this wonderfully, breezy Saturday evening, so it'll just be randomness. Can ya dig it?

I've just finished reading the first two book is Stieg Larson's "The girl.." books. They are awesome!! I am drooling to get my hands on the third, but it's not being released here in the states 'til May 25th! Thank goodness Ju has a pal across the pond who was kind enough to send her their version and she's a swell gal and is going to let me borrow it! Now I've just got to be patient until she's done....

My kid is the cutest kid. He is now doing summersaults on the bed and then bursting into hysterical belly-giggles. That's the stuff that makes all the sleepless nights, temper-tantrums and scream-filled car rides all worth it. Little knucklehead.

My Grandpa rocks. Check out this story about him. Griff and I went to my Moms to hang out with The Bopster today. He is not feeling so hot and it makes me really sad. But he still can eat up some silver bells. That's fo sho.

I really love having friends over for dinner. Especially when I don't have to do the cooking. I am one spoiled little lady, for all those of you who didn't already know that. Larry cooked up some yumtastic (that word goes out to my homey Patrick) grub. Jerk chicken, firecracker shrimp, grilled asparagus and couscous. YUMMMMMMMM!

I think I need my gallbladder taken out. I am serious. To all of you who are shaking your head and mocking my hypochondriacal nature right now, hush up. You'll all feel bad when I'm right and then you'll have to bring me homemade chicken noodle soup.

Larry dropped-in the deep end of the pool. He's really stoked. Jeff was threatening to tell on him. That part makes me laugh. I am really stoked, too. That's pretty rad stuff.

Ever since I had Griffin, anything and everything makes me cry. I had it bad before, but good grief! This is getting ridiculous.

I am now going to get those pajammas, friends. Good night all and as always, thanks for reading!

~m.