A Whoopie Pie Can Cure Almost Anything
Okay, so I’m not gonna beat around the bush. You all want to know what happened today when I went to Hershey for my three month check up.
I bought whoopie pies. 9 whoopie pies. I’ve eaten 2. I gave 2 away…and five remain. And then I had a Memphis Thickburger at Hardee’s, and a large pumpkin white chocolate iced coffee that tasted nothing like either pumpkin or white chocolate, and then brought some chinese home.
I am stuffing my feelings and feel seriously bloated in the process.
My visit didn’t go the way I hoped. I’ve had some spotting over the last few weeks. I thought it was normal, or at least that is what all the hysterectomy sites say. Except it’s not. Even the sole member of this semester’s Dr. Kesterson’s posse thought it was no big deal when I told her about it. Not so says the Dr. It could be residual bleeding from the radiation. Granular tissue I think it’s called. I had a pap smear. And some other poking about down in the great void where reproduction used to take place. So now I wait a week. If the pap smear shows no abnormalities, and the bleeding hasn’t stopped, then there will be some spelunking done to figure out where the bleeding comes from and then some procedure or another to make it stop. If the bleeding stops (which is unlikely because it’s been pretty much daily these last few weeks – nothing like it was before I was gutted, but there is spotty bleeding nevertheless) then I just go back and do the whole scan/chest xray/blood test ritual again in January. If the pap shows abnormalities, well I am going to leave that unsaid, because it doesn’t need to be considered, because it will not have abnormalities. I am not even allowing that to be a possibility.
But I’m scared. And numb. I wasn’t planning on this. I was going to celebrate the end of this terribly trying year. I was starting to get an edge on being back on more stable financial footing. I was starting to feel as normal as I could considering my brain still doesn’t work right, and my nose smells weird things or not at all, and my legs hurt so bad some nights I have to take a percocet. I really am numb. This isn’t supposed to be happening to me. So it’s not. I’m not going to let it.
This is all part of why I stopped writing so abruptly. I wanted life to go back to normal. I wanted life to resume its regularity, its sameness, its predictability. Of course, it wasn’t going to be the same normal I had precancer, but it was starting to at least look normal on the outside.
So yeah, things are in limbo. My surgical nurse gave me her card and told me if she doesn’t call me in a week, to make sure I call her and to not wait one more day that a week. The whole pap smear thing and alien probing hurt like hell today. I am not looking forward to that again.
I was really looking forward to writing all about how it had finally been three months cancer free today. I was ready to really celebrate – something I haven’t done yet because I wanted to make sure that the celebration wasn’t premature. Life however had other plans. Fucking life.
So my kind companions of the road of life, the saga of my now-absent uterus and adjacent organs continues. I guess the whole cancer lesson wasn’t over yet. I shudder to think that this lesson will be as recurrent as life’s “you better learn to manage money” lesson I keep forgetting to learn. Grasshopper. I guess there’s more I need to do.
Anyway, I’ll be wallowing in the creamy squishiness of whoopie pies for the rest of the night. I already ate a chocolate mint one. The other was a shoofly one – delicious. I have a pumpkin one and another shoofly one. I wish they had lemon ones. They are my favorite. I bought two chocolate chip cookie ones for Andy, because I am an awesome mother. Eventually I will lapse into a whoopie coma and be found lying on the bed, whoopie cream filling gluing the plastic wrap to my cheek and crumbs caking the corner of my mouth. Tomorrow I will go back to being that irrepressibly positive person I try to be (note I didn’t say AM, because it’s fall, and for me fall mean falling levels of serotonin, long dark nights and that creeping black cloud of depression that rears its ugly head and makes me think about things that most people pretend they never think about, but really do. Like cliffs. Like drowning.) I’m gonna keep looking for the upside in all of this. So that when I am sitting on my porch in 20 years, shaking my skull-headed cane at the neighbor children because they are stepping on my deadly nightshade and feeding bunnies to my pet komodo dragons, I can say…back when I had cancer I learned…