The waiting is the hardest part
I had planned on writing something different today. However, I spent some quiet time reflecting this morning, and realized that whatever it is I might want to say about a certain psychotic fool would only serve to spin the beast up a bit, and I was done playing that game a couple of months ago.
Okay, I admit, it was sort of fun for a bit to write blogs that I knew would be discussed in certain quarters, discussed and parodied, and I took a certain amount of pleasure out of watching it.
And then, as is my nature, I got bored of the game. So I stopped looking to see if the beast and her imaginary friends were still babbling on about me. I don’t know, it just wasn’t that interesting anymore. Yesterday, just for S&G, I took a look (yes, that was me, looking at ~you~, I want those five minutes of my life back). And yup, it’s still going on.
One would think that I wouldn’t be the only one bored of the same old routine, but apparently not. I actually had a lot to say about this, but I just can’t seem to work up the energy to do so. In the grand scheme of things, whether or not someone out there who has never met me actually hates me with such force and venom really doesn’t matter. It doesn’t even make me giggle anymore to know that little old me has such incredible power as to spin up that much emotion in a perfect stranger. It used to, but now, meh.
And where did I come up with this brilliant insight this morning? Well, I may have said it was quiet reflection, but there really isn’t a whole lot of quiet to be found in an MRI tube.
MRIs are not fun. But, in keeping with my “it could always be worse” routine, it wasn’t a biopsy. No, that was last year, and damn did it suck.
This year, my doctor and I opted to skip through the mammogram, because it would have led to an ultrasound, which most likely would have led to a much unneeded biopsy, which would have come back “inconclusive”, leading, inevitably, to an MRI. We skipped everything and went straight for the MRI.
Mmm, fun.
Besides the lovely noise one actually finds oneself getting used to, there is that oh so wonderful moment where the tech says brightly, “Okay, I’m going to start the injection now for the contrast.”
Godfuckingdamn that shit hurts.
I’m absolutely convinced the entire medical industry takes great pleasure out of causing me pain. Rat bastards!
It will take several days before results are sent to my doctor, and probably a few more after that before she calls me. Considering that for me, this is just routine, I’m not overly worried. Okay, maybe a little. But only a little. And only because it’s a scary thing they are always looking for in me. I saw what that shit did to my mother, it was ugly and nasty. I don’t mind the thought of dying, that’s a no-brainer, we are all going to die eventually. But to go like that? No way, not me.
So every year I go through all of the little pokes, prods, tests, and procedures, and every year I stare at my phone and wonder if this is going to be the year that I don’t hear the words I wait patiently for. And while I’m pretty sure that this isn’t going to be that year, it’s still nerve wracking all the same.
Tomorrow, blood work. I was going to do it today, but you know, I’ve had just about enough of needles for one day thanks.
Now, entertain me with funny stuff and keep my mind off the waiting.